by Becca Andre
“This is awkward,” Grayson whispered.
Briar nudged him with her elbow. It would be even more awkward if Molly and Eli heard them.
“You know my feelings on this,” Eli said to Molly.
“I do,” Molly agreed. She hesitated a moment before continuing, “But that’s really all I know about you.”
Eli stopped frowning at the barn to look at her. “What do you mean?”
“You don’t speak of yourself much. Sometimes you share a story from your past, but I’ve never heard you speak of your aspirations for the future.”
“I’m not much for thinking too far ahead.”
“That’s fair, but certainly there must be something. I think everyone has a dream of some sort. A place they would like to see themselves. I did, or rather, I still do, though the context has changed.”
“You were dealt a cruel blow,” Eli told her, a hint of anger in his tone. “It wasn’t right.”
“It wasn’t,” she agreed. “But in the end, I’m much better for it. I just didn’t realize it at the time.”
“But you lost so much. That fine big house, the servants, the—”
“None of those things matter when your life is nothing but misery. I would gladly spend the rest of my days in that stuffy cabin, laboring over a hot stove to receive a fraction of the appreciation I experience daily.”
Briar crossed her arms, surprised anew by the depth of feeling in Molly’s words. She truly hadn’t known how miserable Molly had been as Andrew’s wife.
“The praise is well deserved,” Eli said. “You’re a damn good cook—pardon my language.”
Molly laughed. “And it makes me so ridiculously happy to hear you say that.”
He laughed in turn. “Then I’m glad I said it.”
Briar grinned, glad he’d said it, too.
“You frequently make me smile, Mr. Waller,” Molly said. “I appreciate that.”
“I like to make you smile, Miss Molly.”
“Come on,” Grayson whispered. “Do it.”
Briar cast him a frown, but didn’t get to question him as Molly spoke again.
“Thank you,” she said to Eli, then rolled up on her toes—way up on her toes—and kissed his cheek, very close to the corner of his mouth.
A flicker of surprise passed over Eli’s features, but he seemed to recover himself quickly. His large hands settled on Molly’s shoulders, and before she could step back, he leaned down and kissed her.
Briar pressed a hand to her mouth while Grayson chuckled softly. Briar watched with apprehension, afraid Molly might smack Eli. After all, Molly had always been a big proponent of proper behavior and etiquette. But Molly didn’t slap him. Instead, she moved closer, her hands sliding up to his shoulders as the kiss went on and on.
Briar was growing uncomfortable and was about to suggest to Grayson that they look away when Molly and Eli finally drew apart.
They stared at each other for one long moment, looking equally surprised—though Briar wasn’t certain what they found so shocking. Perhaps Molly hadn’t expected a kiss, or Eli hadn’t expected her to reciprocate. Or maybe they were both really good kissers. Briar grinned at that last thought.
“I’m sorry,” Eli sputtered. “I don’t know what got into me.”
“I’m hoping you’re not about to tell me the alcohol made you do it, or that you had a momentary bout of madness.” Molly eyed him with genuine concern.
“No, ma’am,” Eli answered quickly. “I was apologizing for my forwardness and lack of manners.”
“Oh. Well then…” She gave him an uncertain smile. “I forgive you.”
Eli’s shoulders slumped in clear relief. “I won’t let it happen again,” he promised.
“That, sir, would be an unforgivable offense,” Molly said, echoing his words from earlier.
Eli blinked, then understanding dawned and he tipped back his head and laughed.
Feeling immensely good about this development, Briar leaned into Grayson and he slipped an arm around her shoulders, hugging her against his side.
“But I fear you won’t be able to reconcile your wrong at the moment,” Molly said to Eli. “The others were heading to the boat when I came to collect you. I fear their suspicions will be aroused if we tarry too long.”
“None of the crew would ever speak ill of you,” Eli said, “but I would not want to cast any doubt on your fine character.” He offered her his arm. “I’ll escort you to the boat immediately.”
Molly took his arm and gave him a bright smile. “You are a true gentleman, Mr. Waller.”
“I’m just a simple canaller, Miss Molly.”
“No, sir. You are the very best of men.”
“She’s right,” Briar whispered as the pair walked off.
“Considering that the man usually wants to punch me, I’ll refrain from comment.” Grayson squeezed her shoulders, then released her. “Does this mean you think ill of me for all my indecent behavior?”
“I kissed you first,” she reminded him.
“You also invaded my bath.”
“Are we going to start that argument again?”
“I usually like where it leads.” His eyes met hers and even in the low light, she could see the heat in his gaze. He leaned down and brushed her lips with his.
She stepped back, breaking the contact.
“Briar?”
“The others have already returned to the boat,” she whispered.
He straightened and a frown shadowed his eyes. “And I suppose we should do the same.” Annoyance colored his tone. “It seems to be my lot that I never get any time alone with you.”
“Grayson—”
“I know. Canal boat. Privacy is not a luxury we have.”
“Maybe we’ll find some time.”
“When?” he demanded. “I have four days left.”
“Don’t say that like it’s so final.”
“Isn’t it?”
Angry now, she turned and headed for the barn door.
“Briar, wait.” He caught up with her in a few strides. “I’m just frustrated.”
“I’m frustrated, too.” She kept walking and he fell in beside her, though he remained silent. So much for a few hours of frivolity. Apparently, she couldn’t escape her worries.
They tied up for the night along a quiet stretch a few miles away. The crew headed off to their bunks without protest, more than willing to get an early start tomorrow. That was at least one perk of them knowing the truth of the need to arrive in Portsmouth on time.
Grayson bid her a polite, “Good night” before leaving to make his bed on shore, but that was the extent of their conversation.
Briar retreated to her own bunk, but as expected, sleep was elusive, and long after Molly’s breathing had grown even, Briar lay staring at her shadowed ceiling. The heat in the cabin didn’t help, but it wasn’t just the heat.
A nudge from a little metal nose was accompanied by a familiar whirr.
“I know,” she whispered. “I need to go talk to Grayson. Is he still awake?”
Lock answered with a happy whirr. Yes, he was still awake. Perhaps he was as restless as she was.
Briar slipped from her bunk and pulled on her pants beneath her night shirt. If nothing else, it would feel good to get out of this stuffy cabin.
They’d left the hatch open to encourage more airflow, so Briar made little noise leaving the cabin. She stepped down onto the tiller deck, then leapt from the rail to shore. Trees lined the slight rise a short distance away, but here next to the canal, the area had been cleared—not always the case on the heel path side. It was one of the reasons she had chosen this spot. Grayson always slept on shore and a cleared area made a better bed than underbrush.
She looked around for his blanket, but didn’t see it. Normally, he
slept as close to the gangplank as possible, like a dog guarding its owner’s front door. She had teased him about that.
“Where is he?” she whispered to Lock who sat on her shoulder.
She got an impression of water in the moonlight.
“The canal?” Had he gone for a swim?
The impression took on more detail. No, a pond.
“Where?”
Lock sprang from her shoulder and flew up the bank to land on a tree branch.
She followed him up the hill and through the trees, over a fence and into a wide pasture. In the distance, she could make out a farm house and a barn.
Lock guided her to a tree-shrouded hollow among the rolling hills where a small pool of water glinted in the moonlight.
“How did he find this place?” she whispered as she walked through the trees.
The impression that followed was not anything she could understand. It had something to do with the feel of the land. Perhaps composition of the soil? And something about underground water.
“Must be a ferromancer thing,” she muttered. Grayson clearly had a whole range of senses she didn’t share.
A splash of water caused her to stop in the shadow of a large tree. Her eyes were well adapted to the dimness, and she had no trouble spotting Grayson in the moonlit pond. He stood waist deep in the water, his back to her and the moonlight glinting off the exposed metal.
He was busy rubbing his arms and chest, and she realized he had a bar of soap. Perhaps he’d borrowed it from the wash area on the boat.
Without warning, he spun to face her, causing her to jump at the suddenness of it. Had another ferromantic sense alerted him to her presence? Or had Lock?
“It seems I’m always interrupting your baths,” she said, stepping out of the shadows.
“It has become a theme with both of us.” The water lapped at his waist, just below his navel. He clearly wasn’t wearing anything.
“Lock tried to explain to me how you found this place, but I didn’t follow it,” she said, needing to say something. “It’s a bit of a long walk when you had the canal at hand.”
“Considering that’s where the stable refuse goes, I don’t think I’d feel much cleaner. Besides, this little pond is spring fed, and considerably cooler.”
“Cooler?” She waded into the water, then sucked in a breath as it covered her bare feet. “Oh goodness.” The water was almost cold. Even better, the sandy bottom was free of mud and half-rotten vegetation that always filled a pond like this. Perhaps it had something to do with the water temperature.
Grayson chuckled. “And now you see the draw of seeking this place out.”
“Yes.” She bent to roll up her pants legs.
“Want to join me?”
She straightened, yet didn’t speak. Yes, she wanted to get in, but she couldn’t admit it.
“I didn’t mean anything by that,” he quickly added. “All right, maybe a little.” His tone had turned uncertain. “I’ll pull on my pants if you like. Or let me rinse off and I’ll go. You can have a private bath and—”
“Turn around,” she cut off his rambling speech.
“What?”
“Turn around so I can get in,” she clarified. Once she was in the water, he wouldn’t be able to see anything. It would be foolish for him to don his pants, and cruel of her to make him leave.
“Yeah, sure,” he stuttered. “If that’s what you want.” He immediately gave her his back.
She bit back a laugh. He hadn’t expected her to take him up on his offer.
“It’s not as if I’ve never gone skinny-dipping before.” She stepped out of the water to take off her pants.
“Oh?”
“But not with a man,” she quickly added, not wanting him to come to the wrong conclusion.
“That thought never crossed my mind.”
She gripped the hem of her nightshirt and glanced around. They were completely alone out here in a cow field and well away from the canal.
“Briar?” Grayson prompted.
“Just summoning my nerve,” she admitted.
“I promise I’ll be on my best behavior.”
“Do you even know what that is?”
He chuckled, but grew serious as he continued. “I give you my word. I will only do as you ask. And if you decide you want me to go, I will.”
“I don’t want you to go.” Lock, be the necklace. The little dragon still sat on her shoulder.
With a tingle of static, the familiar necklace settled around her throat. She took a deep breath, then pulled off the night shirt. Tossing it aside, she took a couple of running steps and dove into the water. She kept the dive shallow, but when she surfaced, she found that she could just touch bottom.
“Oh God,” she gasped. “This is wonderful.”
“Indeed.” Grayson laughed.
Her dive had carried her out into the center of the pond. She now stood in front of him, but since she was submerged to the chin, she didn’t mind.
He sank into the water, dipping below the surface to rinse away the soap. Resurfacing, he pushed his wet hair from his face and rose to his feet.
“Would you like the soap?” he asked.
“Maybe later.”
“Then I’ll lay it on shore.” He turned and waded into the shallows. Unlike her, he wasn’t the least concerned about his nudity.
It would be polite if she turned away, although she would only spare herself the view of his calves since he was already knee deep in the water.
He stepped out on shore, his back to her as he walked to where his clothes lay stacked atop his blanket. Completely at ease, he made no effort to cover himself in any way. He placed the soap beside his things and started to turn.
Briar spun away. If he noticed her watching, he didn’t comment.
With a loud splash, he reentered the water. Several waves rolled past her and lapped against the edges of the pond. A moment later, he surfaced a few yards away.
“I wish I could find a pond like this every evening,” he said, once again pushing his wet hair from his face.
“Do you often go hunting for a bath?”
“Lately, yes. This heat is miserable.”
“Were the summers not as hot in your part of the world?”
“On occasion, but rarely this muggy.”
“It has been especially muggy.” She fully immersed herself, enjoying the feel of the coolness washing away the salty sweat from her skin and hair. She would sleep well after this.
When she surfaced, she found that Grayson had moved over to where a short wooden dock protruded into the water.
“This leisurely swim reminds me of the time the two of us swam the canal,” he said.
When they had vandalized Darby’s boat. “I remember.”
“You claimed to be the better swimmer.”
She smiled. “I am.”
“You are also the most humble.”
“Are you really going to lecture me on humility?”
“What can I say? You’ve seen the wares.”
“Grayson!” Had he noticed her watching earlier?
“And though I could use that as a distraction, I would like to keep this an honest race.”
“A race?” She made it a question, though her competitive nature had already taken the bait. She swam over to join him beside the dock. “What are the rules?”
“Do you see that log on the far side?” He nodded toward the shore opposite the dock.
She could barely make out the dark shape. “I see it.”
“To the log and back.”
“All right. I’ll count us off. Ready?”
“Yes.”
“We go on the word go.”
“Seems logical.”
She splashed him and he sputtered, rubbing th
e water from his eyes.
“Three. Two. One. Go!” she shouted.
They surged forward as one, rapidly moving across the pond with sure strokes. In the dimness and without a judge, it was a matter of honesty to touch the log, but they seemed to turn at the same time and swam back toward the dock. In the last few yards, Grayson pulled slightly ahead and smacked his hand against the dock first.
“Ha!” He flashed her a triumphant grin.
“You barely beat me—and you’re not even human.”
“Maybe you should have thought of that before you challenged me.” He grinned.
She splashed him again. This time, he returned fire, and a full-on splash battle began.
The water depth around the dock was just below her shoulders, which made it hard to get her arm behind a good splash. It also put her at a disadvantage since he was taller.
“Do you yield?” he asked when it became clear that she wasn’t going to win this contest, either.
“Never,” she gasped, rubbing water out of her eyes. “But I can’t dunk you properly since physical contact is out.”
“You’re welcome to try. I won’t complain.”
She smacked his upper arm, and he laughed.
Moving over to the dock, she gripped the edge and let herself float in the water below it. Grayson moved over to imitate her. For a while, they lounged in the water, listening to the crickets and the frogs.
“I’m sorry I was short with you earlier,” he said.
“You don’t need to apologize. I was just as bad.” She sighed. The only solution to this whole mess was to save Grayson from his fate. Then everything else would fall into place.
“Briar.”
“I shared that, didn’t I?”
“You didn’t have to. I know what you’re thinking.”
“Well, it’s true,” she said with heat. “Saving you is the solution to every one of my problems.”
He sighed. “I hate that this rests on your shoulders.”
She patted her shoulder. “I can take it.”
He eyed her shoulder a moment before his gaze lifted and locked with hers. She had the distinct impression that he was struggling to keep his promise not to touch her. Of course, she had made no such promise.