Read Online Duchess by Susan May Warren - Free Book Online Page A

deep. Yes, this felt nice.
    Water sprayed across her legs. She let out a shriek and opened her eyes.
    Rafe stood over her, dripping. “C’mon. You’re getting wet.” Then he leaned down and scooped her up into his arms.
    â€œRafe!” But she laughed and tried to hate the idea of being in his arms. But why? He had strong arms, a toned body, an infectious smile. She looped her arms around his neck and clung to him as he lowered her into the water. “It’s cold!”
    â€œIt’s perfect. Stop being a pansy.”
    He let her go, but she held on to his arm. “I can’t swim.”
    â€œOkay,” he said and looped his arm around her waist, swimming with her through the pool. The buoyancy of the water seemed like flying, and she laughed then gulped in a mouthful of water and came up sputtering.
    He caught her up, held her by the arms as she coughed. “You okay?”
    She nodded, still coughing.
    Then she covered her mouth with her hands, giggling. “Imagine if the press saw me now. Nearly drowning.” And in the arms of another man.
    Not that, to anyone else, it might be anything torrid. After all, no one knew she was married.
    She didn’t feel married. Hadn’t Dash made it clear he didn’t consider their vows, well, vows?
    She hooked her arm around his neck. “Take me to the deep end.”
    â€œAre you sure?” He put his arm around her. Tucked her into the curve of his body.
    She nodded.
    â€œDon’t pull me down,” he said. “Just let me hold you up.”
    Yes.
    He took her into the deep end, and she tried not to let her heart climb into her throat. “Just let yourself float. You can kick to keep your balance. Don’t panic, though. I’ve got you. I’m not going to let you sink.”
    The sun was in his eyes, and he watched her with a smile as she kicked, held herself afloat. “Where did you learn to swim?”
    â€œMy father taught me. We have a lake on our estate.”
    â€œEstate?”
    â€œMore like a farm,” he said. A diver jumped in not far from them, and he winced as the spray hit his face. “Ready to get out?”
    No. “Sure.”
    He swam with her to the edge of the pool, helped her climb out, then grabbed a towel from the attendant and wrapped it around her shoulders as they reclaimed their lounge chairs. He took a towel and ran it over his head, turning his hair wild.
    He looked like some Roman hero standing over her, blocking the sun. Fletcher should be here to frame the shot.
    And maybe the studio doctor to restart her heart.
    If it weren’t for his accent, she’d peg him as an Old West cowboy, maybe from Montana.
    Their drinks had arrived, and she drank hers through a straw.
    â€œHow did you meet Rooney?” she asked.
    â€œHe was in Europe, buying old RAF Sopwith Camels and trying to hunt down a German Gotha. He finally ended up creating a replica. That was the plane I flew in today. We met at a party in Austria, through a mutual friend who knew I was interested in movies.”
    â€œYou are?”
    He glanced at her. “Isn’t everyone? Half of America goes to a movie on the weekends. They want the fantasy. The world we create of drama and glitter and glamour.”
    â€œIs that what you want? To create the fantasy?”
    â€œI want the reality.” He smiled. Met her eyes.
    She looked away, the sun hot on her skin despite the late hour.
    â€œI’ll never forget the first time I saw a movie. It was in France, after the war. The Three Musketeers with Douglas Fairbanks. I was mesmerized. He made it looks so…easy, so real. And for an hour I forgot what I’d seen, forgot the men I’d buried.” He took a breath. “Forgot the day the Germans marched onto our property and murdered my mother.”
    She glanced at him, watched him run a thumb across his glass.
    â€œMovies can make us forget,” he said. “But they can