At length a long sigh escaped her lips. “It’s the done thing. I was a good daughter. I offered no argument.” She shrugged. “I spent my childhood working my hands to the bone in their home. I thought marriage would be easier.”
“But it wasn’t.”
“Not with Will. All I wanted was a family of my own, a family I could do better with, children I could cherish. But…”
“What?” He leaned to touch her clasped hands. “Tell me.”
“Will couldn’t give me that.” Her voice broke, and she paused for a breath. “He betrayed our vows with other women, and he never gave them children, either.”
A beat of silence stretched between them. And then, “Marriage doesn’t have to be like that, Clarice. Painful and empty and childless.” Rushing on, he took her hands in his and squeezed. “It wouldn’t be like that with me.”
“Marriage! You’re jesting again.” But he looked uncertain, surprised by his own words, and Clarice was afraid he mightn’t be jesting, after all. “Even were I to take you seriously, and your youth aside, sir, the fact remains that Mary and I are better off alone. In all my life, I’ve never been happier than I am now…and I don’t mean to risk our happiness.”
Without a word, he brushed a stray blond strand behind her ear, and her cheeks heated even as she tightened her jaw.
And her resolve. “No matter what my body tells me, my head knows what’s best.”
He held her hands between his. “You speak of your body and your head. But what does your heart tell you, Clarice?”
Birds twittered in the background while she searched his face, a face smooth and unlined, unmarred by the scowls and spite that had characterized the only man she had lived with since leaving her parents’ home.
He’d asked what her heart told her, but she didn’t trust it now. “My heart is not at issue here. I—I cannot marry you. You’re…you’re a baronet, for heaven’s sake!” She struggled until he let loose her hands. “I cannot marry a baronet.”
A new protest. Cam wondered if it was progress or a step back. “Whyever not? You sound like the little sister.”
“Who?”
“The little sister, from the story of Nippit Fit and Clippit Fit. She knew her feet were small enough they might fit the shoe, but she couldn’t imagine herself as the wife of a prince. Do you remember? She thought people would make fun of her and say she wasn’t fit to be a princess.”
Clarice remained mute.
“Don’t sell yourself short, love. You’re fit to be a queen. It’s sorry I am that I can only make you a mere Lady.”
The boat rocked violently when she stood. “This is not a fairytale, and I’m not the little sister. These big feet won’t fit into any glass shoes. I’m tall, not dainty. Too tall—”
“You’re not too tall for me.” He stood as well, to demonstrate, and the boat swung even more. She swayed wildly. Alarmed, he grabbed for her, but she leapt away.
And flailed backward, headfirst into the river.
SEVEN
CAMERON DOVE in after Clarice, snatching her to him when she came up sputtering.
“Lud!” She laughed, a sound of pure delight that shocked him to his core. He’d expected outrage. “You’re turning my life upside down, Cameron Leslie,” she said, swiping water from her eyes.
The river was frigid, and her teeth were already chattering, her lips tinged blue in a stark-white face. There was only one thing to do.
Kiss the warmth right back into them.
Deftly treading water, he managed to swing her into his arms and find her lips. She shocked him a second time by responding in kind. Deepening the kiss, she curled herself around him like a wet, willowy stole, and he was certain he’d never felt anything so glorious. His very heart seemed to swell within his chest.
And they might have gone on kissing until his heart burst, except Cameron gradually became aware they were drifting downstream—and the boat was drifting far ahead.
“Crivvens,” he whispered against Clarice’s lips. They would soon be down the river without a boat. He wouldn’t mind walking back, but he would mind having to pay the rowboat’s owner for its loss. Leslie Castle was bonnie, but the estate itself was cash poor.
“Wh-what?” Her voice sounded distant and dreamy. “What is it, Cam?”
Cam. He had to reward her for that with another kiss.
“Crivvens,” he said again a couple of minutes later.
“What on earth does that mean?”
“It means our boat is floating away.”
“Lud!” She looked around wildly. And then, “I cannot swim!”
She clung to him as he struck out for the boat. Not too long afterward, he hauled himself aboard and pulled her in after him. She sprawled on the bench, laughing. Until she looked down at her pale, wet gown plastered against her front.
With a gasp, she crossed her arms over herself. “Tell me you didn’t see that.”
“I didn’t see that.” But he had. She was beautiful. Everything about her was beautiful. Not only the way she looked, but her soul. And the way she felt in his arms.
She shivered. “I…I don’t know what came over me.”
“It was the cold,” he said, offering her an out. “And the wet.”
But they both knew that something had changed in the water.
“Yes, it must have been,” she said. Her hair had come undone and hung in long, wet tendrils down her back. He wanted to wrap his hands in it. Her arms were still crossed over her chest. “I’m sorry,” she added.
“For what?”
“For making you get wet. Ruining your clothes and boots. I hope…” She froze, and her face went white—whiter even than when she’d been submerged in the icy river. “Please don’t be vexed with me.”
“Why would I be vexed with you, Clarice?”
She looked like she expected him to be furious, and the truth was, that expectation in itself rekindled his anger. His
