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Whether the words were warning or amusement, they terrified her. She backed up quickly. But the water was, after all, wet, and the river bottom quite slippery, and she fell again and went under, her hands flailing.
Before she could find her footing, Máel was there, lifting her up, his hands wrapped around her arms, holding her steady.
Their wet bodies were so very close. The world was vivid with sharp-cut things: a black sky lit by a rising moon; the silhouette of rock in the distance; his body, like a moving marble statue; his blue eyes, catching the moonlight. Everything glistened: the river, his body, her skin. She panted softly from exertion, but otherwise, it was silent.
She could not look away from his eyes, could not stop being aware of his body, so close to hers, so…naked.
“Are you done?” he asked, peering down at her.
“Done what?”
“Looking.”
Her jaw dropped on a stuttered, outraged gasp. Then she sneezed.
Abruptly, he bent and lifted her entirely out of the river. Only her bottom dragged through it as he walked them to the edge.
“I was not looking,” she announced.
He grabbed the gown off the rock and covered her with it. “I thought you said you did not lie.”
His body was so warm against hers.
She tilted her face away. “I suppose I shouldn’t have splashed you,” she admitted in a small voice. “But I was angry.”
“Is that what it was? Anger?”
In truth, she wasn’t sure anymore what had propelled her to do such a thing.
He trudged back to the river’s edge, his powerful legs slicing through the river, his body throwing heat onto hers, and she realized what had urged her to splash him. It hadn’t been fury or indignation.
It had been…fun. She’d been having fun.
And it hadn’t been proper at all.
Chapter 21
Máel carried her to the camp. Her body was wet and curving and cold, except where their bodies pressed together.
He’d had every intention of taking her right there in the river. Push her back against the boulder and drag up her chemise. Then she’d sneezed.
Vulnerable.
Innocent.
Do not destroy.
The thought cut like a blade through every urge and inclination.
Defying his desire, he’d picked her up and, instead of ravishing her, carried her to their campsite.
He set her on her feet and she dripped on the dirt. He looked her over, standing barefoot, her chemise soaking wet, her gown clutched to her chest. Long hair hung down in a thick knotted mesh to her lower back.
He wanted to run his fingers through her hair. Comb out the knots, spread it around her face, then lay her back on the ground. Lift her knees and sink inside her. Take her, hard, make her scream his name.
She wanted it, too.
But if she was smart, which she was, she would not take it any further. For he would take it much, much further.
