“Papa and I used to race to prove who was the better sailor,” Gillian told him.
“I suppose that’s reason enough,” Colin agreed. “But not nearly as much fun as the wager I had in mind.”
“What did you have in mind?” Gillian’s palms were damp inside her gloves as she smoothed nonexistent wrinkles from her muslin skirts.
Colin untied the ribbons of her bonnet, moved it aside, then whispered in her ear. “Deal?”
His words sent shivers of anticipation up and down her spine, and Gillian was tempted to lose, just to see how creative Colin could be, but she was made of sterner, more competitive stuff. And if she won, she got to choose.
She stuck out her hand. “Deal.”
Colin ignored her hand. “I prefer to kiss on it.”
Gillian reached up and locked her arms around his neck. “So do I.”
* * *
“Ready. Set. Go!” Colin called out as he and Gillian launched their boats from the side of the pond, then raced downstream following their course as they headed toward the finish line. Gillian raced ahead of him, and Colin watched as a gust of wind lifted her skirts and blew them back around her legs, displaying the outline of her long, slim thighs.
“I won!” she shouted, plopping down on the bank, stripping off her gloves and bonnet and hiking up her skirts so she could roll down her silk stockings and wade into the pool to retrieve her boat.
“I’ll get it,” Colin offered. He was wearing tall boots, and although they weren’t completely weatherproofed, his boots would keep him from getting wet.
But Gillian was already splashing across the pond to get her boat.
Colin’s breath caught in his throat at the sight of her.
She waded to the edge of the pond, handed her boat to Colin, then waded back for his blue one. Her dark, curly hair was loose and hanging down her back. Her arms and feet were bare and exposed to the afternoon sun, and her skirts soaked from hem to hip. She looked a mess, and yet Colin thought he’d never seen her look so beautiful in bed or out of it.
As he reached out a hand to help her out of the pond, Colin realized that somewhere between London and Shepherdston Hall, sometime between his wedding and the third day of his honeymoon, he’d fallen in love with his wife.
They raced the boats three more times, and Gillian beat him twice more. Colin laughed as she proclaimed victory once again. He had given serious consideration to losing on purpose, but that hadn’t been necessary; Gillian had beaten him fair and square. The only race he’d won had been the one where the sails on
Gillian’s boat had come loose, causing the boat to capsize.
Normally, he hated losing, but he was honored to lose to his wife and happy to find that her winning had made her so happy. Colin swept her up into his arms.
“I won,” she crowed once again. “I beat you three out of four times.”
“Yes, you did,” he answered agreeably.
“So,” she looked up at him. “I get to claim the prize.”
“Your wish is my command.”
“I choose the labyrinth.” Gillian reached up and framed Colin’s face between her hands. “Now.”
Colin shrugged. “Let’s hope it’s the gardeners’ day off.”
* * *
Colin and Gillian were enjoying the second course of dinner when Pomfrey quietly entered the carpeted dining room, leaned over Colin’s shoulder, and spoke in a low voice.
“I apologize for interrupting your dinner, Lord Grantham, but the military dispatches have arrived from London. Several are marked urgent, including a note from the master.”
“Thank you, Pomfrey. I’ll attend to them right away.” Pomfrey bowed. “Very good, sir.”
“Did the dispatch rider return?”