Chapter 10

It didn’t take much work to convince her mother that she should be left behind the following day. And after looking in the mirror, Imogen knew why. Her color was high, her eyes bright. Her mother must have suspected a sickness much worse than a mere headache. A giggle escaped her and she clamped her hands over her mouth. Heavens, what was she doing?

She stood in the middle of the room, at a sudden loss. She had never in her life lied to her mother, had never even considered doing so. But, strangely enough, she had not been the least concerned about her mother believing her. No, it had been Mariah that had caused her apprehension. Mariah, who had always been able to read her like an open book. But, wonder of wonders, she had even managed to convince her sister that she was unwell.

Imogen felt a brief moment’s guilt before the excitement that had been building in her all night and into the morning burned it away with a fire that would not be contained. Full of nervous energy, she moved about in agitation, donning her stoutest walking shoes, a bonnet, and a shawl. Taking up the small bundle she had readied the night before that contained a towel and spare chemise, she hurried out of the room.

Caleb was waiting for her at the end of the hall, leaning against the wall. He grinned when he saw her approach. “I thought you wouldn’t come.”

She held her bundle to her chest like a talisman. “Of course I will not back out,” she said indignantly. Her voice warbled a bit and she clenched her teeth.

He straightened and held out his arm to her. “Well then, are we ready, fellow adventurer?”

She took his arm, gripping it tightly as he led the way down the servants’ stairs and through a back entrance of the house into the gardens.

“You certainly know your way around,” she said in surprise.

“I was here many times as a boy. The pond I’m taking you to used to be a favorite haunt of mine and my cousin’s.”

She was oddly touched that he would bring her to a place he held special. “And what is that you have there?” she asked, motioning to the wicker basket he held.

“All good adventurers need nourishment. And it is just our luck that Cook is quite fond of me. This lovely basket will prove a godsend after a morning of swimming.”

Just then they reached the cover of the trees. There was a path here, though it was old and overgrown with disuse. She picked her way carefully through the brush at his side.

“As far as adventures go,” she said, her voice sounding unnaturally loud in the confines of the dense foliage, “this must be tame compared to what you’re used to.”

Caleb chuckled. “Tame can be a good thing,” he said, helping her over a fallen tree branch.

But Imogen stopped. Caleb stopped as well, looking at her in curiosity.

“What is it?” he asked, and then his smile turned sly. “Are you backing out?”

“Hardly, my lord.”

“Caleb,” he gently reminded her.

“Caleb,” she repeated, flushing slightly. “I want to know why you’re doing this for me.”

“Why?” He tugged her on, and they resumed their walk through the trees.

“Yes, why? Why are you helping me? What are you getting out of this?”

He was silent for so long she thought he would not answer. And then, just as she was about to ask again, he finally spoke up.

“You ground me,” he said, his voice so low she had to strain to hear him.

“I’m sorry?”

“You ground me,” he repeated. “For so many years I’ve been living an existence of excitement and stimulation and excess. Then I met you.”

“Why does this sound more like an insult?” she grumbled.

“No!” He stopped and turned her to face him. “You don’t understand, Imogen. I was not living that life because I wanted to. I did it because I felt I had to.”

“Had to? But why?”

His features immediately shuttered. A muscle worked in his jaw for a moment before he replied. “The ‘whys’ are not important. What is important is I found you. Or rather, you found me in that garden at the Morledges’.”

Imogen blushed, fighting to make sense of his speech. “Me? What is so important about me?”

He gripped her hands tightly. Imogen nearly gasped at the contact, at the heat of him through her kid-skin gloves.

“There is everything important about you,” he said, his voice so intense, so certain that she was struck mute. “You have brought a peace to me that I have not felt in ten long years.”

She looked deeply into his pale gray eyes and was shocked at the very real pain there. What had this man been through? What had hurt him to such a degree that he suffered because of it even now?

She was about to question him further when he was suddenly off again, pulling her through the brush.

“But this is getting us nowhere if we wish to start your adventuring,” he said briskly over his shoulder.

Imogen stumbled after him, just barely avoiding a low tree branch. “What is your hurry?” she gasped. “The pond is certainly not going anywhere.”

“No, but there is no telling when someone will go looking for one of us. And I’ll not have you say I have failed you on the first try.”

Within minutes they broke through the cover of trees into a small clearing. Sunlight shone golden through the branches above them and sparkled on the still face of a small round pond. A large flat rock jutted out over the water, and it was here they stopped.

“Caleb,” Imogen breathed, turning in a slow circle to take it all in, “however did you find such a place?”

Caleb placed the picnic basket down and shrugged out of his coat. “My cousin Ignatius and I spent many an idyllic afternoon here when we were children.” He paused to waggle his eyebrows at her. “Sans clothing.”

As he sat and pulled off his boots, Imogen sputtered a laugh. But it quickly died as Caleb rose and removed his waistcoat. Her eyes fastened on his long, tanned fingers as they went to his cravat. He pulled apart the intricate knot, and then the long, snowy white piece of fabric joined the growing pile of clothing on the ground.

Imogen stared in fascination at the small triangle of taut strong throat that had been revealed, her mouth suddenly dry as dust. She moistened her lips, adjusting her spectacles as he undid the buttons and the shirt went up and over his head, ruffling his copper hair so it fell in adorable disarray over his forehead. Her breath hitched as her eyes travelled over the smooth, tanned skin of his chest and arms and abdomen, at the well-defined muscles, cording every bit of flesh into firm perfection, at the faint smattering of hair that dusted his chest and trailed down, over his stomach, past his navel, into the waistband of his breeches. And then his hands were there, at the fastenings, and he was pushing the fabric down over his slim hips…

Imogen gasped, covering her face with her bag. “What are you doing?” she squeaked.

“Swimming,” he replied patiently. She heard the faint whisper of more cloth hitting the pile, and then a splash as he entered the water.

“Damnation!” he swore, gasping. “I don’t remember it being so cold. Oh, pardon me.”

“Don’t curb your tongue on my account,” she muttered. “Though I’m not sure that’s any way to actually get me in that frigid water.” She peeked over at the pile of clothes he had left, his boots nearby. Please, she thought madly, let him still have his smalls on. She shifted her gaze to where he treaded water, chewing on her lower lip.

He stared at her, water streaming down his face and neck. “Imogen?”

“I cannot do it!” she burst out.

“Yes, you can,” he replied with infinite patience.

“No, no I cannot.” She began to back away. “Thank you for trying. Truly, thank you. But I cannot do this.”

“Imogen,” he said, swimming back toward her with strong, smooth strokes, “come here.”

Imogen’s eyes widened at the silken purr of his voice. “No,” she answered. “I think I had best return to the house.”

“Imogen,” he repeated, placing his hands on the rock, “you will come into this water if I have to physically drag you into it.” He saw her gaze dart to his pile of clothes and his eyes narrowed thoughtfully. “If you force me to leave this water, you will find out for certain.”

Her gaze, wide-eyed in horror, flew to his face. “Find out what?” she managed on a croak.

He grinned wolfishly. “Whether I’ve taken my smalls off or not.”

She gasped, then colored. “You are horrid!”

“If being horrid is what it takes to keep my promise to you, then so be it.”

She stared at him for a long moment, at the determination that glinted like steel from his gray eyes, and she knew with certainty he would come after her if she turned and ran. An image of him, streaking after her through the trees, wearing nothing but what he was born with, came unbidden to her mind.

“Fine!” she exploded. “Turn around so I can get this gown off.”

She blinked as his grin widened and he turned away. Seriously, he could make double his fortune if he were able to bottle whatever it was that made his smiles so potent.

After a long moment he spoke up. “I am waiting, Imogen. And I am not a patient man.”

She started and dropped her bag. Her fingers flew to the buttons of her gown.

In no time she was down to just her chemise. She removed her spectacles and laid them down gingerly on her neatly folded pile of clothing. Only then did she approach the water, keeping a wary eye on him all the while. He was still facing the opposite bank, treading water. She sat down on the flat rock and gingerly dipped her bare toes in the water. The chill stunned her.

“It is freezing!”

He snorted. “You are not getting out of it that easy. Come along, Imogen. Once you start moving, you will adapt in no time.”

She shook her head in disbelief. Well, she thought as she contemplated the smooth surface of the pond, she really might as well get it over with. If he could do it, so could she. Taking a deep breath, she plunged into the cool depths.

The water enveloped her, shocking her. She came up sputtering. The first thing she saw when she cleared the water from her eyes was his laughing face, mere inches from her own.

“Well done, Imogen,” he said.

And that was it. She lost her breath entirely. It was not due to the cold water or even her daring. It was him. And she knew, with every fiber of her being, despite all her protestations, she had fallen in love with him.

She could see every detail of this moment, as if it had been stilled for the purpose of her memorizing it, bit by bit, when she had realized herself in love. She saw with unbearable clarity the beautiful curve of his lips, the water droplets caught in his impossibly long lashes, the hard arc of his neck and shoulders above the water line, the sleekness of his wet hair and how it made his cheekbones stand out more prominently.

But mostly she saw his eyes. Their pale gray depths were soft with affection. And then his smile faded and a heat filled them that warmed her body. She no longer felt the chill water, only a strange aching warmth that coursed from the core of her and through her limbs. She longed to reach out and place her hands on the hard muscles of his shoulders and let her body float against his. Even as she thought it, she saw his eyes travel to her lips. Subconsciously she licked them. His eyes widened, and the cords of his neck moved as he swallowed.

In a swift sweep of his arms he submerged, and the moment was lost. Shaken, she watched as his head broke the surface half the length of the pond away. He grinned at her, and even without her spectacles she saw it was the same easy grin he always wore. Had she imagined the entire thing?

“Come on, Imogen,” he called.

Oh, this was not good, she thought as she watched him paddle easily through the water. She was not supposed to fall in love with him. This would make things so much more complicated, so much harder on her when it ended and she returned to that future of hers. She was a fool, an absolute fool.

But even as she thought it, as she treaded water and watched him swim about, she knew she would not give up her time with him, no matter the pain she would feel later. These moments were a gift, and she would not allow her feelings to ruin it.

Determined to enjoy herself though her heart was in turmoil, Imogen swam toward him.