Chapter Four
With very little to go on, Jasper walked down to the lake. The intrigue of their messages this morning had turned into an anticipation that was almost electric across his skin. He couldn’t deny the appeal of her request for his adventure expertise any more than he could allow himself to give it to her. He might never be the heir his grandfather deserved, but he would be a good friend to Nicholas and Amelia. He would not cross that line.
Last night, Juniper showed him that there were limits to her boldness. He could use that to help keep them within the bounds of propriety, if only just. Barely would be good enough. It was all he had any hope of achieving.
The building Jasper arrived at was small and charmingly weathered. Inside, two simple rowboats sat overturned on the dock. He nudged a tarp with the toe of his boot. A puff of dust rose and something scurried into a dark corner. If her adventure involved staying here, he was woefully overdressed.
Juniper cleared her throat. He turned to find her standing in the doorway, clutching a satchel to her chest. The hood of a buttercream bonnet framed her face, highlighting little flecks of gold in her eyes.
“Now do I get to know what you’re planning?” He hoped this was just a convenient meeting place.
“I’m going to sketch you.”
“In here?” Jasper looked around again, suppressing a shudder.
Juniper laughed. “No. On the water.”
The water. Presumably, in one of these boats. Even worse. Under normal circumstances Jasper would refuse—he did not associate with boats or bodies of water—but Juniper’s expression stopped him. Her eyes sparkled and her face was flushed. She was impossibly excited.
That made one of them.
After last night, he refused to ruin something that clearly brought her joy. It was just a lake. A small one. Practically a pond. And the boats were enormous, he told himself as he looked them over. Easily room for both of them. Maybe a third person.
As he tried to talk himself into the magnificence of the rowboats, a problem presented itself. They were on the dock. On dry land.
“I don’t suppose you’ve put one of these boats in the water before.”
“I—” She looked around, frowning. “Oh. I didn’t realize they’d all be put away. They’ve always just been ready before.”
“Not to worry. I’m sure I can manage it.”
As it turned out, he could not manage it. The boats were heavy and cumbersome, and they disapproved of Jasper as much as he disapproved of them. After half an hour struggling with the infernal things, Jasper’s jacket was ruined, his sleeves were rolled up, and he was sweating profusely. The first boat had slipped his grip and fallen sideways off the dock. It was now resting peacefully on the bottom of the lake. If getting in the water weren’t one of Jasper’s worst nightmares, he would be tempted to join it.
Jasper had learned a great deal from that first boat. For one thing, they were as heavy as the devil, and he supremely doubted anything with that kind of weight would float. He had also learned that there was a trick to maneuvering the angled bottom without losing control of the vessel, which he was now applying to his liberation of the second boat. If he ever went home, Jasper resolved to give whoever handled these matters on his estates a raise.
“This was a terrible idea. We don’t need to do this.” Juniper had alternated between fretting and offering suggestions. It was her observations that had revealed the easiest method of circumventing the boat’s tendency to roll sideways out of Jasper’s grip. She’d also offered to help, but Jasper’s pride had not allowed him to accept.
“Oh, no. You wanted a romantic boat ride on the lake, and you’re getting one.” His grip slipped, and the infernal vessel crushed his toes with a force that compelled some of his more creative curses. Thirty minutes ago, Jasper would have given up. Now, it was a personal vendetta. He was a peer of the realm, heir to a duke, and twelfth in line for the throne. He could launch a goddamn boat.
The boat landed in the water with a splash—upright—and he scrambled to catch it before it floated away. Against all odds, it did not immediately sink to the bottom. Seeing it in the water was one of the single most satisfying moments of his life.
Securing the vessel with a rope, Jasper stood up and stretched out his arms. “Isolde, your armada awaits.”
Her smile outshone the sun. “Does that make you Tristan? Are we about to fall madly in love during our voyage?”
“We’d better. That jacket I borrowed was one of Nicholas’s favorites.”
Jasper grabbed two oars and tossed them into the bottom of the boat. He carefully handed Juniper down, cringing at the way she casually risked her life. While she settled herself on the bench, he took a deep breath. It was a small lake. He could see the bottom.
Nothing bad was going to happen. Even if the boat somehow capsized, he wouldn’t be trapped inside it. He wouldn’t drown. He was not his parents, and he wasn’t six years old anymore.
With his eyes closed for courage, Jasper stepped in. The wobbling of the boat almost undid him, but he made his way onto the bench by feel. When he opened his eyes…it wasn’t so bad. The bench felt solid beneath him—and it ought to, it weighed a bloody ton. Juniper’s beaming face was across from him. He could do this.
Jasper untied the line. They were officially free-floating.
“Should we put the oars in the locks?” Juniper suggested after a moment.
It sounded sensible enough. Jasper fit the handles against the curved metal arcs set into the sides of the boat. “Like this?”
“Have you never been rowing before?”
“Of course I have. Every Englishman rows.” Except Jasper didn’t. He didn’t row, and he didn’t swim, but telling her that would lead to too many questions from his exceedingly observant Isolde, and he’d already ruined their picnic last night.
It was just rowing. Jasper was a DeVere. How hard could it be?
He thought back to every lawn party he’d ever been to, mimicking the motions of the men who did row as he dipped the oars into the water and pulled. The boat leapt away from the dock out into the sunshine. Juniper clapped her hands and looked at him like he’d just put the stars in the heavens.
For that, he would row until his arms gave out.
With relatively few further mishaps, they managed to end up in the middle of the lake. It would have been as satisfying as successfully launching the boat, if it weren’t so bloody terrifying.
“All right,” Juniper announced. “Now relax and let me sketch you.”
Relax. As if that was possible with the water surrounding them. Jasper sat back and pretended, doing his best impression of a lounging demi-god. Preferably one who was immune to drowning.
“I should have brought some fruit. Something to eat, at least.” Juniper situated herself, taking off the bonnet and shaking out her hair. She lifted her face to the sun for a moment, and suddenly his only thoughts where of how beautiful she was—until a small swell rocked the boat.
“When did you start drawing?” He gripped the edge of the boat until his knuckles went white, forcing his tone to be as casual as he could manage.
“I hardly remember. It was one of the few things I could do without—” Juniper’s eyes flew wide. They were fascinating eyes. Focus on her eyes, not the water. “Without being a complete tyrant to my tutor, so I’ve always favored it.”
“Tell me more about this tyranny.” Tell me anything, just keep talking.
Juniper laughed. “I’m afraid I’ve always been a bit headstrong. I never played what my music teachers wanted me to play. I always skipped ahead and picked my own lessons.”
“What did they want you to play?”
“Boring, slow tempo songs.”
“But you like a faster pace.”
She looked at him, and the glint from last night was back. “Yes, I do.”
It was a mistake. She responded to his flirting so readily. Jasper ought not to do it, but something in her called to something in him, and when she looked at him like that, he couldn’t think about any of the things that were haunting him. Not his grandfather, not the depths of the lake around him. He couldn’t think about anything but saying something to make her blush, or smile, or bring that impish twinkle into her eye.
Another swell slapped the side of the boat, sending a few drops of water over the edge and onto Jasper’s arm.
Right and wrong be damned—he was not going to make it through this outing with his sanity if he didn’t distract himself, and Juniper Fairchild was a delicious distraction. “Does that mean you intend to sketch me quickly? I rather hoped you’d take your time admiring me.”
He had lied about the rowing, and he was not relaxed. That much was obvious as Julia pulled out her sketchpad and charcoal stick. The tension he was trying to hide compelled her with the way it sat just beneath the surface of his face. He looked frightened, and yet defiant at the same time. Like he was under siege, but refused to surrender. The defiance called to her even more than the corded muscles of his forearms as he leaned back against the bow of the boat.
She shouldn’t have enjoyed watching him on the dock as much as she did, but there was something about seeing him so completely out of his element that brought a flush to her entire body. Jasper was a creature of decadence and ballrooms. Seeing him roll up his sleeves and strain, seeing the way his muscles shifted underneath his shirt as it became transparent with sweat, took her breath away.
He took her breath away still, soaking up the sun and trying to pretend he wasn’t wholly uncomfortable. Every time it seemed like he might forget his surroundings, the water lapped at the boat and he turned to stone from the tension of it. Julia sketched the impossible beauty of him, but she also sketched the struggle. There was more to Jasper DeVere than a famous name and a perfect face. She wondered how many people knew that. She wondered how many people he allowed to see it.
“You know, you could have drawn me in the house when I wasn’t covered in filth.”
“I could have, but it wouldn’t have been nearly as entertaining.”
He let out an inelegant snort. “You enjoy watching me make a fool of myself?”
“I enjoy seeing you without your armor.” Julia immediately wanted to take it back. It was too honest.
Jasper didn’t seem to notice. “If by armor, you mean Nicholas’s coat, I’m flattered.”
Julia pressed her lips together and took another risk. “Flattered enough to remove a bit more?”
His eyes slid open like a jungle cat—slow, with disturbing intensity. She felt like a trembling mouse that had accidentally caught his attention.
“For…for the drawing,” she stuttered.
“Liar.” But he pushed himself forward and started pulling his shirt from his waistband.
Julia’s mouth went dry.
He didn’t take his eyes off her as he lifted it. Slowly, the muscles in his torso and chest were revealed, each chiseled line flexed into stark relief. Julia was certain he was doing it on purpose, and she hoped he never stopped. When his shirt finally rose high enough to block out his stare, she took a shuddering breath. Good lord. Whoever had thought up Jasper DeVere, deity or devil, they had an excellent imagination. He was a masterpiece.
Then he was balling up the shirt between his hands and piling it behind his head as he laid back against the rail of the boat. His crooked smile taunted her. “How disarmed would you like me, Isolde?”
Her brain stopped working. It just quit on her, completely. All she could process was the sensuality of his pose. It was the posture of a man stretched out for a lover to admire him. The lines of his legs extended across the boat toward her. Tan skin and the shadow of dark hairs. Crisp white linen against the dark strands of his hair and his long fingers disappearing into the folds—
His hands couldn’t be behind his head. They shouldn’t be. She looked at the bottom of the boat, but it was empty except for her satchel and bonnet. “Jasper?”
“Yes?”
“Where are the oars?”
“The—” He lurched into a sitting position and whipped around.
They spotted the first one at the same time, drifting away sluggishly. They found the second a moment later—headed in the other direction. He must have let them go immediately for them to be that far away. Neither of them had noticed.
“Well, that complicates things.” Julia couldn’t muster any irritation, though. There were worse things than being trapped alone with a handsome man.
Jasper was not quite as calm. His knuckles blanched as he gripped the sides of the boat. “If we don’t do anything, will we eventually drift to shore?”
Julia looked down at the barely moving water. “Maybe? It would take a very long time.”
Beneath his tan, Jasper went pale.
She reached out, covering his hand with hers. “Don’t worry. We can just swim it. It’s not very far.”
“I…uh…” He was shaking his head, looking at the water. “I don’t swim.”
“You don’t?” Good Lord. No wonder he was terrified.
“No.” There was so much tension in the word. The tendons in his neck were beginning to stand out from the strain.
He couldn’t swim—and he’d let her drag him out into the middle of a lake. Jasper DeVere was a saint. Or an idiot. Maybe both. “All right. Don’t worry. I can swim just fine, and I’ll—”
“Do not leave me in this boat alone.” He gripped her fingers. His eyes met hers in a plea. “Please.”
“I won’t leave you.” She promised. “I’ll get in and tow the boat to shore.”
He shook his head. “You can’t.”
Julia looked around them. They were a few hundred yards from land. Without something to propel them in the right direction, they could be out here until Nora set to looking for them. Since that wouldn’t be until after Julia failed to show up for the four o’clock regimen on the schedule, it could be hours until someone located them. Ignoring the schedule was not an option, and they’d sunk the other boat that would have come to rescue them. If someone had to swim it, it might as well be her.
“I’m afraid we don’t have much choice.”
Jasper was still shaking his head. “You’ll get tired. And you’re injured! You’ll drown and I won’t be able to…I won’t…”
She’d lost him again. “I’ll be holding on to the boat the whole time. If I get tired, you can pull me back in.”
He took a couple deep breaths that made his chest rise and fall beautifully. Julia tried not to get distracted—one of them needed to focus. When he spoke, he sounded like himself again.
“This is highly embarrassing.”
“It could be worse.”
“Oh?”
“You could still be wearing your shirt.” Julia looked down to disguise as much of her blush as she could.
Jasper’s laughter bounced off the floor of the boat, and drained some of the tension out of Julia’s muscles. He was back.
He nodded, looking at her and very pointedly not looking at the lake. “So, you’re going to get in the water.”
“Yes. I just…need you to undo the buttons on my dress. And my corset laces.”
The predatory look flirted with the edges of his expression. “Really.”
“Dresses and petticoats get very heavy when they’re waterlogged,” she rushed to explain.
Jasper held up his hands. “You’ll receive no argument from me.”
“And I need you close your eyes while you do it.”
“Now, that’s not very fair.”
It wasn’t fair at all. He’d been more than generous by allowing her to ogle his form under the weak guise of art, but Julia couldn’t let him see her in just her shift no matter how much she wanted to. The scar on her back might not be visible, but her foot would raise immediate questions.
“Please?” she asked.
“Of course.” Jasper immediately ceased protesting and closed his eyes, but not before sending her one last predatory glance. “I am a gentleman, after all.”
Julia was all too aware. If he were less of a gentleman, as she had hoped, she would be stripping down in front of her paramour, instead of the charming enigma who refused to kiss her.