flesh burned, the water couldn’t cool her.
“Wait!” he demanded.
Wait! Never! She tried to shake off his touch, the steelgrip of his fingers. She stared at him furiously, near tears, but determined she wouldn’t cry, no matter what. She was naked in the water with him. With Ian McKenzie. Like the wildest hussy in all the world.
Indecent
. It had been easy to tell herself she didn’t give a fig about her reputation when she knew in her heart she was innocent of wrongdoing, that she’d done nothing to sully her name, but now…
“No, I will not wait! How dare you, how dare you, how dare you?” Her words came in a tumble, fast and furious. “How dare you touch me—”
“The dramatics are completely unnecessary,” he said irritably. “Hold still. I don’t know who you are, but I thought you were someone else,” he informed her. His eyes swept over her in a way that bluntly reminded her of her state of undress. “And apparently you were expecting someone else as well.”
She swore, violently, thrashing the water, trying to strike him. He caught her wrist. She was mortified to realize anew just how clear the water was. She could see every inch of his naked body within it.
He could see every inch of hers.
“I was not expecting anyone! I—”
“You weren’t waiting for Peter O’Neill?”
She would have to kill him—or implode and die herself. “Damn you, I am not Peter O’Neill’s mistress, I—”
“Indeed? Just whose mistress are you?” His voice had grown very grave; the deep, dark blue of his eyes was touched by the sun’s reflection on the water in a disturbing way. She realized both his strength and sensuality at the same time, and damned herself more viciously as hysteria grew within her. Her frantic twisting and struggling wasn’t doing her the least bit of good. Oh, dear God, her father lived in the clouds, but this kind of scandal involving his precious one and only daughter would surely kill him!
“Let me go, let me go, this instant!” she shrieked, her nails tearing against his wrist as he held her.
But his fingers tightened angrily around her wrist.
“Who are you?” he demanded heatedly.
“Let me go!”
“Who are you?”
“You’re supposed to be such a great, damned gentleman! Let me go!”
“My pool, my property. You’re a trespasser.”
“I’m a
guest!
”
“Spare us both; tell me who you are.”
He wasn’t going to let her go. His grip remained as sure as iron. They would stay here together, naked in the water, treading water forever.
“I’m Alaina, Alaina McMann, and I used to see you rather frequently when you visited your aunt and uncle—
and my father
—down near the remnants of Fort Dallas.
Now let me go!”
He did release her, not because she had demanded he do so, she was certain, but because he was just so completely surprised. And she would have moved then, except that it seemed that his eyes, so piercing a cobalt against the bronze of his strong features, had pinioned her there, in the water. “Alaina!” he gasped in a voice rich with both fury and contempt. “Alaina? Alaina!” One kick brought him skimming through the water once again. His hands were on her shoulders as he easily tread the water with legs only. He didn’t even seem to realize that he had touched her again, he seemed so outraged. His eyes appeared black; his hold upon her was brutal. His voice thundered. “Alaina McMann, swimming naked in a pool, waiting to meet
Peter O’Neill?
Sweet Jesu, young woman, someone should have taken a switch to you years ago. What in God’s name would your father say?”
“How dare you! I wasn’t here to meet Peter—”
“Peter O’Neill! That absurd dandy?” he lashed out, not hearing her protest.
“He’s behaved no worse than you!” she informed him, astounded that she was defending Peter; but in such a shattered state, by then it didn’t matter to her.
Yet he continued to stare at her as if she were the most disobedient
“Wait!” he demanded.
Wait! Never! She tried to shake off his touch, the steelgrip of his fingers. She stared at him furiously, near tears, but determined she wouldn’t cry, no matter what. She was naked in the water with him. With Ian McKenzie. Like the wildest hussy in all the world.
Indecent
. It had been easy to tell herself she didn’t give a fig about her reputation when she knew in her heart she was innocent of wrongdoing, that she’d done nothing to sully her name, but now…
“No, I will not wait! How dare you, how dare you, how dare you?” Her words came in a tumble, fast and furious. “How dare you touch me—”
“The dramatics are completely unnecessary,” he said irritably. “Hold still. I don’t know who you are, but I thought you were someone else,” he informed her. His eyes swept over her in a way that bluntly reminded her of her state of undress. “And apparently you were expecting someone else as well.”
She swore, violently, thrashing the water, trying to strike him. He caught her wrist. She was mortified to realize anew just how clear the water was. She could see every inch of his naked body within it.
He could see every inch of hers.
“I was not expecting anyone! I—”
“You weren’t waiting for Peter O’Neill?”
She would have to kill him—or implode and die herself. “Damn you, I am not Peter O’Neill’s mistress, I—”
“Indeed? Just whose mistress are you?” His voice had grown very grave; the deep, dark blue of his eyes was touched by the sun’s reflection on the water in a disturbing way. She realized both his strength and sensuality at the same time, and damned herself more viciously as hysteria grew within her. Her frantic twisting and struggling wasn’t doing her the least bit of good. Oh, dear God, her father lived in the clouds, but this kind of scandal involving his precious one and only daughter would surely kill him!
“Let me go, let me go, this instant!” she shrieked, her nails tearing against his wrist as he held her.
But his fingers tightened angrily around her wrist.
“Who are you?” he demanded heatedly.
“Let me go!”
“Who are you?”
“You’re supposed to be such a great, damned gentleman! Let me go!”
“My pool, my property. You’re a trespasser.”
“I’m a
guest!
”
“Spare us both; tell me who you are.”
He wasn’t going to let her go. His grip remained as sure as iron. They would stay here together, naked in the water, treading water forever.
“I’m Alaina, Alaina McMann, and I used to see you rather frequently when you visited your aunt and uncle—
and my father
—down near the remnants of Fort Dallas.
Now let me go!”
He did release her, not because she had demanded he do so, she was certain, but because he was just so completely surprised. And she would have moved then, except that it seemed that his eyes, so piercing a cobalt against the bronze of his strong features, had pinioned her there, in the water. “Alaina!” he gasped in a voice rich with both fury and contempt. “Alaina? Alaina!” One kick brought him skimming through the water once again. His hands were on her shoulders as he easily tread the water with legs only. He didn’t even seem to realize that he had touched her again, he seemed so outraged. His eyes appeared black; his hold upon her was brutal. His voice thundered. “Alaina McMann, swimming naked in a pool, waiting to meet
Peter O’Neill?
Sweet Jesu, young woman, someone should have taken a switch to you years ago. What in God’s name would your father say?”
“How dare you! I wasn’t here to meet Peter—”
“Peter O’Neill! That absurd dandy?” he lashed out, not hearing her protest.
“He’s behaved no worse than you!” she informed him, astounded that she was defending Peter; but in such a shattered state, by then it didn’t matter to her.
Yet he continued to stare at her as if she were the most disobedient
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