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What thehellhad he been thinking? He knew better than to touch Pea. Hadn’t he spent over a decade avoiding any contact with her? Pushing her away as much as he could bear? Because he knew, the minute he gave an inch, his body would demand a mile. And he was right. He had touched her bare skin yesterday and he had hardly been able to stop.
And she—
Christ. That little noise she had made, that exhaled breath,that damp patch, it would destroy him anew every day of his life.
He would have to leave Thornley. He had property in London. He could stay there, as much as he hated the city. Peony could have the run of the castle, she could keep his aunt company, paint all day long in her underwear if she wanted, and he would never have to see it.
Yes. A solid plan. He would leave after his aunt’s dinner.
Decision made, Leo’s pace slowed. He came to a stop as he left the woods and rested for a moment, chest heaving, as he looked down at the darkly sparkling lake below and the magnificent old castle up the slope from its shore. Purple-brown hills formed the backdrop, beyond the tawny late-summer grass, the sky above crystal blue with the thinnest of hazy clouds drifting like smoke across the sun. It was beautiful. And it was all his. There were some rare occasions when the weight of it all didn’t choke him and he could simply enjoy the beauty of his land. Today was not one of those days.
Wait. There—near the edge of the lake, on the little wooden jetty—something moved.
A lithe figure… Bare skin and flashes of blue…
Peony, in a blue bikini, about to dive into the lake.
Leo’s breath caught as she jumped. A splash. And then…nothing.
She didn’t come up.
Pea
Pea dived deep into the dark water, kicking her legs as she swam down far enough to reach out and touch the brown algae-furred pebbles on the lake floor. There was hardly enough light to see by down here, and she felt the strain in her lungs that told her it was time to ascend.
She angled her body toward the light, kicking with slow, sure beats of her legs. André had said she was a natural. André had said a lot of things.
She could see the bright light on the rippled surface above. This was always her favourite part, like breaking through a portal into another world. The sudden explosion of light and air and sound, and with it the euphoria of having pushed her body and survived. Not that she was in any danger. She knew her limits, and despite beingsilly old Pea, she would never push herself beyond what was sensible.
She was inches from the surface when a huge explosion rocked the water next to her. Something dark grabbed for her, and in her instinctive fear, she took a gasp that was nothing but cold water.
The thing grabbing her dragged her up, and she broke from the water coughing and choking. She was being carried, the world a confusion of bright sky and dark water, and then she was dropped roughly on the grass where she wheezed and spluttered as a dark shape loomed over her saying “Pea! Pea! God, Pea, breathe. Pea—”
Pea coughed up the last of the water and lay gasping, looking up into the frantic face of the Count, who was staring wide-eyed down at her, his hands on her cheek, her shoulders, her throat, her leg, as though feeling she was really there, in one piece.
“You idiot!” she said, throat hoarse from coughing. She pushed his hand away and tried to sit up. “You could have killed me. You frightened me half to death!”
“I frightenedyou?!” He sat back on his heels, his eyes still wide and panicked. His black hair was dripping wet, the curls plastered to his forehead and neck. “You went in, you didn’t come up!”
“I was diving! Free diving! André taught me in Zanzibar. I can stay down for ages.”
The Count just stared at her, dripping. He was in black running gear, the already tight fabric clinging to his skin, revealing every muscle with indecent precision. They were both breathing heavily from the fear and the exertion, and Pea was vaguely aware that she was in nothing but her bikini and that she was cold and her nipples were quite obviously hard. But the Count was lost in some dark fear, his eyes pained and raw.
“Phillip...” he swallowed. “My brother Phillip. He drowned in the lake. He jumped in and didn’t come up. He was seven. I was nine. I couldn’t... I saw him go in... I wasn’t fast enough. And I thought you—”
He couldn’t go on. Pea’s heart tore with pity. “Oh, God!” She got to her knees and flung her arms around his stiff shoulders. “I’m so sorry,” she said into the wet skin of his neck. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know.”
She had never known how his brother died. She hadn’t known the Count had carried this separate grief, this guilt, for so long.
“I’m sorry I went in the lake. I’m sorry...”
The Count put his arms around her, and she felt his chest heave, just once, the one broken sob he allowed himself, before he pulled back, taking her arms from his neck and holding her wrists, blinking the glittering pain from his eyes. “It’s OK. You didn’t know. I shouldn’t...” He took a deep breath. “I shouldn’t let my issues spoil your enjoyment. You can swim if you want to. Just...not alone, Pea. Make sure there’s someone with you. Promise me, please?”
He looked at her, one of those deep, earnest looks she almost couldn’t bear. The weight of his attention was always so intense. And this was worse than usual, with the emotion still so raw in his eyes, and his hands on her wrists, and their knees interlocked, one of hers between his where they knelt before each other. His face, still wet, was inches from hers. Water dripped from his hair and made a line down his cheek, to his jaw. She watched it. She looked at his lips. She shivered.
The Count stood up, pulling her with him. “You’re cold. We should get you dry.”
But that wasn’t why she had shivered, and she didn’t want him to let go of her wrist. She didn’t want him to be calling out to the staff now running down the lawn toward them. She didn’t want to go from his side, not when pain still burnt in his eyes, not when his hand lingered for a second on hers before he turned and walked back to the big house, alone, while his staff fussed around her.
