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“Not scones…” I hint.
Realization dawns.
“Oh my goodness, Victoria. Really? Are you sure?”
I nod.
“You, Victoria Canmore, are remarkable.”
“Eh, Victoria Canmore-Beattie…”
“Sorry, Mrs. Canmore-Beattie.”
He pulls me into his arms. The water splashes between us, catching us both in the face. He wipes the water from my eyes.
“I’m sorry. Are you okay?”
“Never better. Now, husband,” I say as I wrap my legs round his waist and twine my arms round his neck, “What say we continue with this water rehabilitation?”
“Are you sure?” he asks, grasping my bum cheeks in his hands. “I don’t want to push you.”
“I can take it,” I say with a smile. I plant a kiss on his forehead. “I know I’m in safe hands.”
