Seven Minutes in Heaven(79)

She was unable to stop the smile that burst from her heart. “I shall learn to swim, Ward. I’ve made up my mind.”

“But you fainted before even touching the water!”

“I’ll try again tomorrow. It was just nerves. I haven’t been near water since the accident. I should probably rest.” Eugenia flashed him a look under her lashes. “An escort to my chamber would most welcome.”

The grim lines around his mouth eased. “I see.”

“And a bath, because someone dripped lake water on me,” she added. The entry was empty because the footman had run off to find rags to dry the floor. “Someone ought to wash my back. Someone who is already wet, perhaps.”

Ward held out his arm. “I am, as always, your most obedient servant, Mrs. Snowe.”





Chapter Thirty-two





Saturday, May 30, 1801



Eugenia woke the next morning with conflicting emotions: a lazy, sensual happiness that came from the presence of the man lying asleep beside her, and an icy trepidation arising from the imminent swimming lesson.

She slid quietly out of bed. She was going in that lake, because she was determined never again to put anyone at risk to save her life. Since the accident, she’d chosen to avoid water—but that felt uncomfortably similar to the way she had been avoiding society.

She was no coward.

It was a glorious morning. Standing at the window, she heard a faint clatter and a fragment of distant song; the new kitchen maids were at their duties. The neat lawn behind the house sloped down to the lake, which looked deceptively benign in the morning light.

If she slipped out the side door, no one would see her. The kitchen and its gardens lay on the other side of the house. She could steal down to the water, wade in as far as her knees, and return to the house with no one the wiser.

Yesterday’s breeches were nowhere to be seen, but she could wear her chemise into the lake since she would be alone. Making up her mind, she gathered her robe and slipped quietly from the chamber.

When she reached the pebbly shore, she kicked off her slippers, bent over, and examined the tiny fish swimming among the weedy plants at the water’s edge. Her reflection in the water shook with wavelets, but her fingers were trembling in reality.

This was ridiculous! She was twenty-nine years old. She had established a successful registry company. She was no coward.

She had no fear of encountering dead things, fishy or otherwise, below the lake’s limpid surface. No, it was the sensation of water closing over her face, the terror of finding herself in a liquid coffin.

Enough!

She folded her dressing gown, placed it on top of her slippers, and inched forward. First her toes met dry sun-warmed stones and then those just under the water. She nearly forgot to breathe as she willed herself not to retreat back to dry land.

Thank goodness she was alone, because she was beginning to think she might vomit.

Ward and Lizzie and Otis were at home in water. Otis, in particular, had announced that he wanted to be in the lake every day. If she wished . . .

She gulped.

Did she want to be Otis’s mother? And Lizzie’s?

Knobby knees, earnest face, all chin and eyes. A pet rat named Jarvis, thrust at her like a furry, whiskery version of his boy. Lizzie’s fierce spirit and dramatic soul. Her black veil, trailing behind her now rather than sheltering her from the world.

Eugenia knew that answer. She wanted to be the children’s mother.

With all her heart.

Emboldened, she took another step so that water trickled over her toes before she froze again. The water was horridly cold and there was a faint smell of dead fish.

She stood as if rooted for what seemed like an age, cursing herself for being a coward, and incapable of going in any deeper.

Just when she was about to admit defeat, she was startled by strong arms wrapping around from behind.

She squealed. “Ward!”

“Good morning, angel,” he growled, his voice muffled by her hair.

“Stop teasing,” Eugenia said. “I detest that name.” He must think her a total ninny for standing in a half inch of water.

Ward moved around in front of her, water lapping over his ankles. He wore breeches and a loose shirt, but his feet were bare.

“What if someone sees us?” she asked.

He leaned forward and kissed her, as hot and needy as if he hadn’t woken her up twice during the night.

Eugenia’s mind slid away from the lake and into some special space where she and Ward breathed together, his muscled arms locked around her.

“Bloody hell,” he groaned a few moments later. “I feel unhinged around you, mad with lust.”

“We could return to my bedchamber,” she said. “It’s nice and dry there.”