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“What did you think you were doing?” Portia retorted, irritably rubbing at her stinging eyes—the salt, she told herself. “I was afraid you’d drowned.”
“I told you, I swim like a fish.”
“You told me, yes, but I didn’t know if you meant it.”
He kissed her cold lips. “So you came to save me?”
He was patronizing her. He didn’t believe she could save him. He probably thought she’d panicked and run into the sea without giving a thought as to how she was going to accomplish his rescue.
Well, she’d show him…
Portia pushed away from him, taking him by surprise, and he let her go. With a single twisting dive, she plunged down into the water, down, down, into the silent green depths. Not so silent, though, that she did not hear him calling her name.
She ignored him, swimming on strongly for several more yards before she surfaced. When her head popped up, she spent a moment tidying her hair and catching her breath before she turned to look back at him.
Marcus was glaring at her as if he’d like to strangle her. He began to swim toward her, but he stopped before he reached her, keeping himself afloat.
“You can swim,” he said accusingly, his eyes sparkling with anger.
Was he angry because she hadn’t needed him to rescue her after all? How typical of a man!
“I learned to swim when Lord Ellerslie took us holidaying in Brighton. He preferred Brighton; he had happy memories of his days with the Prince Regent at the pavilion. He found that the seawater helped his rheumatism. While he was swimming in the men’s area, I would go to the women’s bathing sheds and ask the dippers to show me how to swim.” Dippers, women able to swim, were employed to assist ladies into the water and to keep them afloat.
“You are full of surprises.”
“Why didn’t you answer me when I called? You heard me, didn’t you? I know you did.”
He gave a half smile. “I wanted to see what you’d do. The way you came to my rescue was very…” He shook his head and gave a shaky laugh. “Was ver
y pleasing to my ego.”
Portia considered him a moment with a searching gaze. “Then you weren’t laughing at me?”
He appeared genuinely surprised. “No, Portia, I wasn’t laughing at you. I felt humbled.”
Then she was in his arms.
He was kissing her, and she was kissing him. He caught her around the waist, floating her to shallower waters, while their mouths clung and explored. Her chemise was no help to her modesty after all, clinging to her flesh as he cupped her breasts, rubbing her cold hardened nipples.
She gasped, turning into his arms, feeling his naked body against hers. She wanted him again. More than ever.
“My lady!” It was Hettie shouting from the shore.
Marcus groaned. “Ignore her,” he said, nuzzling her throat, nipping her skin.
“My lady, your clothes…”
Something in her voice forced Portia’s attention. With her hands resting on his shoulders, she raised her head and looked toward the beach.
Hettie was standing, her arms full of dripping, sodden clothing. Portia recognized the gray and white striped skirt. She tried to speak but instead gave a sort of wild shriek of horror.
“The tide is coming in,” Marcus said, looking as if he might burst into laughter. “Portia…I’m so sorry.”
It was his fault. If he hadn’t pretended to be drowned, she would never have panicked and left her clothing where it could get wet. She would have put it somewhere safe, or never have taken it off at all!
“What am I going to do?” she wailed. “Marcus, what am I going to do?”
Chapter 12
