“Does it hurt that much?”

“Massage helps.” He sounded as if he were speaking through clenched teeth. “You smell good.”

“Honeysuckle,” she said, pleased at the compliment. She was starting to wake up. “You know, you really shouldn’t be in my bedroom.”

“Why not? If we’re discovered, the worst that could happen is that we’ll have to get married, and we’re already supposed to get married. Under the circumstances . . .” He shrugged.

She thought the “circumstances” were probably his lack of manhood. And he was right in that no one could presume her ruined if the man in question was unable to do the ruining. She turned on her back and stretched luxuriously. “Actually, this is sort of fun.”

“What? Having a man in your bedchamber? With your reputation, I thought that would be second nature.”

“Your reputation led me to think you’d be witty, so we’re both surprised.” She sat up and swung her feet over the bed so they were sitting side by side.

“Have you had many men in your room?” he said, sounding curious.

“None. Not even the putative father of my alleged child. To be honest, I don’t care to find myself alone with a man. Just when you relax enough to feel the least bit friendly, he’s sure to leap on you.”

“I’ve never had the experience,” he said dryly. “Would you please get yourself dressed? I promise not to leap on you.”

“What’s the rush?”

“The tide is in. The pool is full and the sun’s just up. Trust me, this is the best time to swim.”

“I’m not taking all my clothes off.”

He shrugged again. “As you like. Though if you wear full skirts, I’m not diving down to rescue you from the bottom of the pool.”

“I’ll wear my chemise,” Linnet said, suddenly feeling excited. “And you wear—well, you have to wear something too.”

“I can wear smalls if you want,” he said, sounding completely uninterested in the question.

Linnet darted behind the little screen in the corner of her bedroom, entranced to find out how easy it was to be with Piers. Knowing that he wasn’t about to try to kiss her, or throw himself on his knees, or worst of all, lose control and launch into a kind of wrestling match, made it a pleasure to be with him.

“You know,” she called over the screen, as she was pulling a morning gown over her head, “I don’t want to frighten you, but you’re just the sort of man I would like to marry.”

He grunted.

“I don’t feel as if you’re salivating all over me,” she said, wanting to explain. “I know that you won’t start licking your chops and doing a Little Red Riding Hood imitation.”

“Wouldn’t I be the wolf, not the little girl?”

“You know what I mean.” She popped out from behind the screen. “Could you do up the rest of my gown? It’s harder to dress without my maid than I would have thought.”

She turned her back and he buttoned her up. Again she reveled in an unfamiliar sense of freedom. “No one ever said that being ruined was so much fun,” she said happily. “I don’t have the slightest fear that you’re going to rip off my buttons.”

“I have the impression that being ruined is generally a good deal more fun than this. Do you always talk this much?” he growled. “For God’s sake, let’s go.”

They turned the last bend of the path; Piers flipped the red sign to vertical, and there it was.

The sea was a deeper blue today. And the pool looked as placid as a manicured lawn, except that rather than being green, the sea reflected back turquoise blue to the sky. The sun slanted across the water, gilding the tiny waves that sloshed the barrier between the pool and the sea.

“It’s so beautiful,” Linnet exclaimed.

“Cold as a witch’s teat at this hour,” Piers said. He was pulling off his coat. Linnet made her eyes slide back to the pool. It wouldn’t be right of her to—to ogle him, when he, of course, wouldn’t be ogling her. But a moment later she couldn’t help looking over again.

He had his shirt off. Shirt. Off. She was in the presence of a nearly naked man. All right, so it wasn’t exactly the way that sounded but . . . he was beautiful. For the first time in her entire life, on this issue at least, she had to admit that perhaps her mother was right. Those muscles—

He had his back to her, and the way his shoulders moved, and then the way his upper body slimmed down to his waist and—

He was taking off his boots!

Linnet couldn’t wrench her eyes away. Stupidly, a high little voice in her mind had started narrating the whole scene. He’s bending down . . . Yes! He is going to pull off his breeches. He’s pulling them over his hips. Hmmmmm . . . His—his buttocks are—the voice seemed to be somewhat strangled. Different. Different from mine. Muscled, too. It . . . the voice choked again. Is he going to turn around?

“Bollocks, I told you I’d keep my smalls on, didn’t I?”

At Piers’s growl, Linnet startled as if a gun had gone off. She had to pull herself together. He was incapable, for goodness’ sake. And she was ogling him in the most outrageous way . . . as if she were at that brothel her aunt had talked about.

She was a horrible person. Perverted, really.

She kicked off her slippers without untying the bows, wrenching down her stockings. She had to think of it as if she were bathing with—with a sibling. That’s all he was. Besides, she was keeping on her chemise and he had put his smalls back on. She stole a glance. They were white and seemed to cover the pertinent area.

“Could you help me with my buttons again?” she called.

He came up behind her and it felt as if her skin went aflame at his touch. If he guessed, she would expire from pure embarrassment.

“So, how does one swim?” she managed. “Do I just jump in and I’ll know what to do?”

“I’ll show you,” he said. “It’s going to be cold. You’ll have one toe in and then you’ll be dashing back up that path.”

No, she wouldn’t. At this point, anything cold was a good idea. Something had happened to her internal temperature, and she felt as if she were as red as a beet. But she was shivering. “I’ll just jump right in, shall I?”

He started to say something, but she hopped right up onto the flat rock that he had indicated the day before and leaped off. For a second there was a dizzying rush of air. Her chemise flew up and then—oh my God—she’d never felt such cold in her life. It rushed past her as she sank, as if ice were stroking her all over, as if her very bones had frozen.

A moment later a strong arm curved around her waist and the water rushed past her the other way. She broke the surface of the water, stunned, and took a huge gulp of air, hardly believing she was still alive.

“You bloody fool!” Piers was shouting. She was alive. No . . . she was only partly alive, because she’d never been colder in her life. The only thing warm in the whole world was the body next to her.

“I’m fr-freezing,” she stammered, winding her arms around his neck and plastering her body against his. It felt good. He was shouting again, but there was water in her ears and she couldn’t hear very well. It felt better like this, her arms and legs wrapped around him. And he still had an arm around her as well.