One Week As Lovers (Somerhart 3)

She felt a lighter thump of weight on her back. And then another and another. A few moments passed, and then the sound of churning water filled the tiny woolen cave she’d made. She thought there might have been a horrified curse mixed in with the splashes as well.

Spring day or not, the water was undoubtedly cold.

Though she held as still as possible, her heart thudded so hard that she was sure her whole body must be jumping in time with her pulse. Her neck began to ache almost immediately, but she kept her forehead pressed tight to her knees. The sound of his splashing grew more distant. All she could hear now was her own breath blasting against the sand.

Time ticked by. Sweat trickled down her temple. She thought she heard that clink of metal again, closer this time, but it could have been her imagination, weaving danger from threads of fear.

Her thighs began to shake. Sand dug into her fists, scraping her skin until she thought she might risk everything just to shift an inch.

It seemed half the day had passed before she heard the swish of Nick returning. “He’s gone,” he called in a hushed tone.

She popped her head up and gasped for breath. But the divinely fresh air froze in her throat.

Nick was still two feet deep in water. And he was totally naked. The skin of his chest was paler than his arms. And his scar stood out a dull pink against his neck. Her eyes skipped over the damaged flesh and followed the dusting of golden hair over his wide chest. His body narrowed at his waist and hips, and his muscled thighs were rough with hair.

As was the area around his sex.

She stared, taking him in.

“I couldn’t see him clearly,” Nick muttered, gaze still locked on the cliffs above. When his eyes fell to her, he cursed and his hands flew to cover his private bits.

“Christ, Cyn. Don’t look at me.”

“I’ve already seen you naked,” she said, easing up to a sitting position as her back screamed its outrage.

“But not like this! I’m not…I’m not at my best. The cold water…You don’t understand.”

No, he certainly wasn’t at his best. He was even smaller than he’d been that first night. She just shrugged.

“Close your eyes, damn it, and let me get dressed. It’s damned cold in there.”

His lips did look a bit blue. Cynthia turned and faced the rocks.

“Thank you,” he snapped. She heard the sound of fabric being shaken and his grumbling as well. “Remind me to bring along a fishing pole next time.”

“That was a good idea,” Cynthia offered. “Going for a swim.”

“I figured if it was Bram, he’d be suspicious of me just wandering the beach on foot.”

Her eyes flickered up. “Do you think it was Bram?”

“Maybe.” He sat on the rock behind her. His back brushed her shoulder. “All I could make out was a man on horseback. He was neither slim nor portly. Didn’t seem old. But he did stand in his stirrups and watch me for a long time.”

“Perhaps he only liked the view.”

Nick shot her a dark look. “We need to get home. Now.” His tee

th chattered over the words.

“Why don’t we wait for you to warm first?”

He tugged his boots on with shaking hands. “I’ll warm faster if I’m moving. And we’ll need the day to come up with a new plan. Your days of wandering the beach are over.”

“I won’t be brushed aside like a child,” she complained for the fourth time. Nick just kept walking, head down. He’d stopped shaking anyway, though it had taken a while. They were only yards from the front door of Cantry Manor.

“Hurry,” he urged, and she did, but her legs were starting to ache from the fast pace he set.

“You can’t dictate to me.”