A couple of feet away from him was the neatly folded mound that was her clothing. Most of her clothing, thank goodness, not all.

"How long have you been there?" she called, treading water.

He stepped forward. "Good afternoon, Greystoke. Perfect day for a swim, I quite agree." He pulled his cravat free.

Grace glanced around but there was no place she could climb out of the lake. The bank was too steep on this side. "Have you been there long?"

"Long enough." Without taking his eyes off her he shrugged himself out of his coat and laid it beside him. On top of her pile of clothes.

Long enough for what? she wondered. She was decently enough covered by the water at the moment-only her head was visible-but what about when she'd been floating? She'd worn only her chemise and drawers and she knew from experience that they were almost transparent when wet.

He sat down on the grass and began to pull off his boots.

"What are you doing?"

'Taking off my boots."

"I can see that, but why?"

He gave her a look, as if to point out the banality of the question. "Because I don't want to ruin them "

He couldn't possibly be going to do what she thought he was going to! She watched as he pulled off first one boot, then the other. He drew his stockings off, tossed them down beside the boots then stood up. He unbuttoned the top buttons of his shirt and pulled it over his head. Again, he was not wearing an undershirt.

"Stop that right now!" she ordered.

"Stop what?" he asked politely, and began to unfasten his breeches.

"Don't you dare!" she yelled from her watery position, helpless with frustration.

"Don't I dare what, Greystoke?" She couldn't see the glint in those wicked eyes of his, but she knew perfectly well it was there.

"Don't I dare swim, is that what you mean? You needn't worry on my behalf, I am accounted an excellent swimmer." He finished unfastening his breeches and pushed them down his legs. Grace covered her eyes with her hands. "What about you, Greystoke? Are you also an excellent swimmer, or have you only mastered floating?"

She kept her hands firmly over her eyes. He couldn't possibly see from there that she was peeping through the cracks. The devil. He was still wearing his drawers. "If you wish to swim, then turn your back and I will come out."

"Oh, there's plenty of room."

"That's not the point." Mixed bathing was scandalous- unless it was husband and wife, and even then, it was very daring.

He shook out his breeches and tossed them over her clothes. They sprawled in lewd parody. "Now don't fuss, Greystoke. Nobody can see."

That was a lie for a start. She could see! Hands clamped across her eyes, fingers parted every so slightly, she couldn't take her eyes off him.

He stretched as if to loosen tight muscles. Her mouth dried as she watched, even though she was surrounded by water. He was magnificent; spare and hard muscled, broad shouldered, deep chested and narrow hipped. His legs were long and powerful, and the contrast of his white drawers against his tanned skin only served to draw her eyes to where the fabric bunched.

He was tanned all over. He probably swam naked most of the time. Even as the thought crossed her mind he hooked his thumbs in the waistband of his drawers.

"Don't you dare!" she screeched.

He grinned, a white flash of teeth. "Greystoke, you naughty girl, you were watching after all. Tsk, tsk, tsk."

She felt her face flame and bobbed under the water to cool her heated cheeks. When she surfaced he was still standing on the bank, watching her. His legs were braced apart and the fabric of his drawers seemed to be bunched even more. She promptly turned her back.

"Don't turn around on my account. I don't mind you staring. I'm flattered that you want to watch me undress."

"I don't!" she gasped, scandalized by his words, even though a tiny part of her knew it was true. "And I wasn't staring! I just peeked for a second, and the only reason I did is because I don't trust you!"

"Not trust me?"

"No! Now please turn your back and let me out."

He instantly stepped back and made a courtly gesture of invitation. "If you want to get out, then don't mind me. In fact I'll help you out. The mud of the bank looks quite slippery." He moved right to the edge and held out his hand to her, as a footman held out his hand to help a lady climb out of a carriage. Only no footman was ever so naked. Nor a lady so inadequately dressed.

"You know very well I won't get out with you standing there half naked. Go and swim in that section of the lake and when you're there, I shall get out." She pointed to the far corner of the lake.

"But why do you want to get out? It's my lake. I don't mind sharing."

"I won't bandy words with you a moment longer," she said snippily. "Now, I want to get out, so just go!"

"But you bandy them so delightfully." He frowned. "Are you cold?"

She seized on the excuse thankfully. "Yes. I'm cold and I want to get out. Now please move!"

"Yes, certainly. If you're cold, you need to be warmed, instantly," he said and dived in.

Grace took advantage of the moment and swam as fast as she could toward the lake's edge-not the section where her clothes were, but a closer shore. She did not want to risk bumping into him as he surfaced from his dive. She would climb out and then use branches to screen her modesty while she skirted the lake back to her clothes.

He did not surface immediately, and she made good progress in closing the gap to the shore, but the closer she got, the more she started to worry. He had been under a long time. Had he hit his head? Was he caught in some underwater snag, some drowned tree roots, or perhaps a thick clump of water weeds?

She slowed and stood up. The water was only waist deep. She scanned the surface, but all she could see were ripples. He had dived in a good distance from her and the glittering surface of the water made it impossible to see beneath it.

How long had it been? One minute? Two? It was hard to tell. She was seriously worried by now. Nobody could possibly hold their breath for such a long time. He was in trouble! She started to flounder her way across to where he'd dived in.

"Missed me?" With a whoosh of water, he surfaced directly in front of her.

"Wha-" She had no time to say another word, for he wrapped his arms around her, holding her hard against him, and hugged her tight. She was so relieved that she actually hugged him back for a moment. He held her hard against him, one arm locked around her waist and the other rubbing gently up and down her back. Floating in the cool water, his skin cold, his body hot, she could feel every breath he took, and every beat of his heart.

And then his hand closed over one buttock and squeezed and she came to her senses.

She was almost naked, dressed in her underwear and he was as close to naked and she could feel every hard muscle of him pressed against her. She tried to push him away.

"No, no," he said, pulling her tighter. "You said you were cold, so I'm warming you. I can feel you shivering."

She shoved at him again. "Warming me, my foot! You're being perfectly shameless!"

He loosened his hold on her, but kept his arms linked around her waist. His eyes danced like sun on the water. White teeth glinted. "You are trembling, you know." His smile was pure male satisfaction.

She thumped him on the arm and then crossed her arms defensively against his prying eyes. "If I'm trembling, it's because I thought you might be drowning! Where did you disappear to? You couldn't possibly have stayed under the water so long."

"I could. I did."

"But it was minutes." Her heart was still thudding from the fright he'd given her.

"I told you, I'm an excellent swimmer." His fingers crept between the space between chemise and drawers and caressed the tender skin in the small of her back. It sent tingles up and down her spine.

"But my brother-in-law Nicholas is also an excellent swimmer and even he couldn't stay under that long." She held on to his shoulder with one hand; she was a little out of her depth. Her body bumped gently against his.

He shrugged. "Nicholas probably didn't spend his childhood diving for pennies thrown from rich people's boats. You develop an ability to stay down longer." His voice was deep and quiet, creating a small intimate space of the stretch of the lake.

"What? Why were you diving for pennies?"

"Pennies add up. Sometimes I got enough to buy a meal."

"A meal? You mean you needed the money to eat?"

"Everyone needs money." He smoothed back a damp lock of hair from her eyes.

Not like that, she thought. It meant he was in danger of starving! "Where was this?"

"Naples, mostly. And a couple of times in Alexandria for fun." He looked down into her eyes and said softly, "Don't look so horrified, Greystoke. I quite enjoyed it at the time. I was very competitive and I outdived and outswam the other boys, so my efforts were quite well rewarded."

She put a hand to his cheek, knowing it was futile to wish to comfort a boy who no longer existed. "Poor little boy," she whispered.

"Nonsense," he said gruffly. "I was a tough little urchin." He turned his face and kissed her inner palm. She felt it clear to her toes. They curled in the depths.

"I ruled the street urchins." His hands kept sliding up and down over her waist and hips, but she was so distracted by his story that she forgot to push them away. Besides, it felt so good.

"In Naples? And Alexandria?" She stared at him, trying to see in his face some sign of a young boy who needed to dive for pennies to make ends meet "But how could that be? You were-you are-the heir to Wolfestone. The lords of D'Acre have never been poor. Did your father not-"

"I was born in Italy and grew up abroad." He'd cut her off. She'd noticed before that he didn't like talking about his father. Dimly she realized his hands were under her chemise and against her naked skin but she couldn't seem to care.

"Yes, and that's why you didn't know where anything was that first day."

"You remembered." His teeth glinted. "It's also why I am so good in the water," he murmured and slid his hands around to cup her breasts. His thumbs rubbed across the tips of her breasts. Her lower body curled up as if to meet him, and something deep within her clenched. He rubbed them again and her whole body convulsed in a shudder. She was so surprised she nearly sank. She clutched his shoulders tightly.

"Wrap your legs around my waist," he told her. "That will make you more secure."

Dazed, she obeyed without question and it wasn't until she felt his warm, hard body pressed against her inner thighs that she realized how exposed this position made her. She started to shift, but his hands dropped to her thighs and stopped her.

"Stay where you are," he growled softly, cupping her thighs and then her buttocks. "You're quite safe here with me."

Safe was hardly the word. She felt open, exposed, vulnerable. But before she could say a word, his mouth captured hers, taking possession with a gentle, searching tenderness that completely undid her, as if he was learning her, worshiping her.

Her eyes were shut and she could see the sun glowing redly through the closed lids, then a shadow fell over her face and he kissed her eyelids with a tenderness that made her want to weep.

She opened her eyes and looked at him, drinking in the features of his face anew, as if she'd never seen him before.

Golden eyes burning into her, he bent and kissed her again, as softly as before. She did not want to be worshiped, was not yet ready to be possessed quite so completely. She clutched his head with both hands and kissed him back, softly, carefully. She had some vague notion that she could exercise some command-of herself at least, if not of him or the situation.

It was a foolish notion. The moment she returned his kiss he gave a fierce growl, deep in his throat-exultation, triumph, satisfaction perhaps, and deepened the kiss and she was swept away by the unleashed power of his wanting her. It vibrated through his body; the very air around them thrummed with it.

He kissed her as if she meant all the world to him.

She had no resistance to him. She was his creature, his being. And she gloried in his every caress.

Her body clung to him, molding her curves to his hard-muscled strength. She kissed, licked, nipped, oblivious to anything but the taste and feel and smell of him.

His hands held, caressed, squeezed and suddenly she realized her chemise had come undone and her breasts were bare and bobbing in the water. She opened her eyes, in time to see the flare in his as he beheld them.

"Such a beauty you are, my love," he murmured and cupped them, smoothing his big thumbs back and forth over her engorged nipples. She shuddered and clenched around him, flinging her head back, her eyes closed to the sky. Her world had shrunk to this moment, these feelings, and this man. He stroked and caressed her until she felt she could bear no more and then he lowered his head and his hot mouth closed around a cold and tender nipple.

She made a soft, high sound deep in her throat and convulsed, gripping his waist hard with her thighs, as if trying to take him into her. She shuddered and thrust against him in need, silently demanding he take her, blind to everything.

The blood roared in him and for a moment Dominic forgot-forgot his resolution to make love to her the first time in a bed, forgot that they were out in the open, standing in a lake.

Her legs straddled him, and he could feel the warm nakedness of her against his belly. He slipped his hand down between them and cupped her there, where the slit in her drawers exposed her to him. Not for the first time he applauded the practical design of women's drawers.

He cupped and stroked her soft, warm folds and she trembled against him, urging him with her thighs and making breathy little squeaks of abandon. He circled the hard little nubbin with his thumb and watched the sensations take her as it built and she arched and climaxed against him.

He was hard and aching and his cock was hot and nudging at her entrance when the sound of frenzied barking and splashing nearby distracted her. His own blasted dog!

Her eyes flew open. She looked around dazedly, clutching his shoulders and as he watched, her eyes widened with awareness of the position they were in. She stared blindly at where Sheba had startled some creature and was barking excitedly and splashing through the shallows and reeds at the far end of the lake.

She turned back and stared at him, panting. He was breathing nearly as hard as she was. He saw confusion and then panic dawn in her eyes as she worked out exactly what was pressing against her so intimately.

One quick thrust and she would be his. It took all of Dominic's self-control not to do it.

She must have seen it in his eyes, because she said, "No!" It came out in a gasp. She loosened her grip on him and pushed herself away, almost going under as she'd forgotten she couldn't stand. He caught her by the arm. "Steady, you're all right now."

She blinked and looked away. She was embarrassed, he saw. A surge of tenderness washed over him.

"We did nothing wrong," he assured her quietly.

She made a small sound of disbelief.

"We are free agents, you and I," he reminded her.

She froze, her back still to him, then whirled, "No, you are a betrothed man!" she said and began to swim to shore.

Grace was mortified. Admittedly their lower regions had been hidden by the water, but what she'd been about to do shocked her.

She swam as fast as she could, seeking to put as much distance between them as possible.

What had come over her? His hand had been inside her drawers, touching her in the most intimate way a man could touch a woman. Almost.

As the thought occurred to her, she felt her body clench deep inside, and an echo of pleasure rippled through her. She swam harder.

Granny Wigmore had warned her she'd lose her morals if she bathed in Gwydion's Pool.