Never Courted, Suddenly Wed (Scandalous Seasons #2)(71)

He dropped his hands from the back of the swing, as though he feared she intended to do just that.

“Oh, don’t be silly. I’d no longer jump from a swing.” She glanced over her shoulder at him and waggled her brows. “Well, not intentionally.”

“This is the lake your brother tossed you in as a girl.”

She started. “You remember that?” Until he’d raised that memory, she’d forgotten Christopher had been there. Now, her mind traveled back to that day long ago.

“You were so small.”

“Five,” she supplied. Which meant Christopher had been nearly fourteen years of age. Sophie had been traipsing around after her brother and Christopher, making a nuisance of herself as she’d been wont to do.

“He tossed you into the lake.”

All the familiar fear she’d thought long buried, surfaced, forcing Sophie to relive the terror of that day. The water had closed over her head and even as a small child, she’d felt the fingers of death threatening to pull her within their hold. Her eyes widened. “It was you.”

He didn’t say anything.

“You saved me.”

That long ago time had been lost to a girl’s distant memories and gripping fears. Only now did she remember. Again, she looked back at him. “You plucked me from the water.” And he’d ceased to come around to visit Geoffrey. “You used to be friends.”

“Not after that.” His square jaw tightened. “Your brother was a pompous ass.”

Sophie slipped from the swing, and soared through the air, floating, falling, and landing with a solid thump into the ice cold water.

“Phi!” he shouted.

Sophie broke the surface. Her straw bonnet with its pink bow hung over her eyes. She shoved it back and waded toward Christopher. Her legs kicked at her skirts. “I’m f-fine,” she called. All the while, those words of his reminded her of another, a man she’d not thought of in the weeks she’d come to really know Christopher. Her mystery Odysseus had said the very same thing about Geoffrey. “I learned to swim, you know.” In spite of her mother’s protestations, her father had insisted Sophie learn to swim after her near drowning.

“No. I did not know,” Christopher called out. He scissored through the water with long, sure strokes until he reached her. She suspected she should miss the enigmatic pull she’d known in the stranger’s presence. Yet, as Christopher caught her to him, she realized Christopher was the only man she would ever want.

“I-I r-really am fine,” she said, even as her teeth chattered from the frigid temperatures. Somehow, the hard-muscled wall of his chest warmed her near-frozen body. “I-I i-imagined i-it would b-be a g-good deal warmer.”

“Oh,” he said when they reached the shore. “Why is that?” He continued to hold her close.

“The s-sun.”

A jagged bolt of lightning zigzagged across the dark sky. “That sun?” A faint note of teasing laced those two words.

“N-not today. The p-previous days of s-sun.”

Christopher tugged her bonnet free and tossed it to the ground. The wind caught the article and whipped it upon the lake, where it landed atop the water’s surface. He framed her face between his hands. His gaze studied her with a singular intensity. “Are you all right?”

“I s-slipped.”

His lips pulled at the corners. “I gathered as much.”

A little squeak escaped her lips when he swept her into his arms and started on the path home. His stoic strength gave not even a hint that he was affected by the chill from their swim in the lake or her plump form.

“P-put me d-down. I r-really can w-walk.” She shoved his chest when he still didn’t release her.

“I’m not putting you down, Phi, so you may as well rest against me.”

“I-I’m too large,” she said, and felt a wave of heat cascade over her cheeks.

He snorted. “Don’t be silly. You’re perfect.” His effortless strides, and unwavering hold leant truth to his words.

Her heart sped up and she fell in love with him all over again. She rested the side of her head along his chest. The rapid beat of his heart pounded a sure, steady rhythm under her ear. “I love you,” she whispered. An ominous rumble of thunder sounded again and Sophie tried to tamp down disappointment that Christopher still hadn’t returned those words.

She tugged at his damp sleeve, and gave it a hard tug when he didn’t respond. He slowed his steps and looked down at her. “Put me down,” she said.

He hesitated, and then with deliberate care, set her upon her feet.

Sophie settled her arms akimbo. “I said I love you.”

His gaze skittered to a point beyond her shoulder but he still didn’t speak.

“Did you hear me? I said it several times.”

He sighed. “I…thank you.”

Her eyes narrowed. Had he thanked her? Oh, the lout! Sophie knew she was being childish and desperate and all things petty, but she stomped away from him. He’d wed her, not because he’d been moved by overwhelming emotion for her, but out of a gentlemanly sense of obligation. After being discovered in Lord Brackenridge’s library, Sophie’s reputation had been in tatters. He’d merely been trying to put back the shattered pieces of her social status.