Page 17 of Scandalous Passions

“I’ll make a sound,” he said, nodding. “Will you swim?”

“I cannot swim. Actually, this is my first time in a loch. I thought to wade just a little, but I am not as brave as I thought.”

“You are brave,” Sir Lachlan said, frowning. Then he held out his hand. “Come. We’ll wade together.”

Her heart leaped, and Marjorie bit her lip. Although he neither kissed hands nor read poetry, this knight captivated her far more than was fair. An ice-blooded warrior of few words, and yet the way he watched over her and Janet felt like more than duty. If only she wasn’t the king’s ward and obligated to marry where he wished. “You are the best of men,” she said. “But your hose and stockings—”

“They will dry. Come.”

Gripping his hand, Marjorie gingerly followed him into the water. Ankle deep. Calf. Knee. It was unnerving, and the water chilled her skin as little waves sloshed against her legs, yet it was so refreshing she sighed. “Oh, that’s lovely.”

“Freshwater loch. Good for bathing. And cleaning linen.”

“Oh, certainly. I—”

Marjorie lost her words entirely as something nudged her leg. Something slimy. A shriek tore from her throat, and she threw herself at Sir Lachlan, wrapping her arms and legs around him and clinging like a kitten to a tapestry. Somehow he didn’t stumble under her weight or drop her in the water. In fact, with nary a blink, he merely curved one bulging arm under her bottom as a sort of seat.

His lips twitched. “You’re safe, lady.”

“What was that?” she spluttered.

“A fish?”

Marjorie groaned inwardly. A shriek to wake the dead and a leap as though pursued by rabid wolves…for a fish. “Does it not know we supped on them last evening? We are death to fish! It should be rushing to warn its friends and family, not…not…kissing my leg!”

Sir Lachlan shuddered, and an odd choking sound emerged. “Indeed. Not sporting.”

“Are you laughing at me, sir? When I was just accosted by a monster of the sea?”

“Of the loch,” he replied, his shoulders now shaking. “And no. Never.”

Amusement transformed his face. His brown eyes gleamed, attractive little lines appeared at either side of his mouth, and just for a moment that air of lonely heaviness that usually surrounded him rose.

She had done that. Made the Highland Beast smile.

“Fortunate for you,” she said pertly, knowing she was too heavy a burden yet selfishly unwilling to let his warm, hard body go. Not when the risk of more fish kisses remained. “Everyone thinks I am a kitten. But I am a fierce full-grown cat. With claws.”

“Yes,” he rasped.

At the odd change in his tone, Marjorie glanced down.

Oh no.

Her robe had slipped right off her shoulder, fully exposing the rounded neckline of her linen shift…and the tops of her breasts. Worse, in the cool air, her nipples were visible hard points, straining against the fabric.

Mortified, Marjorie tried to shrug the robe back up. As she wriggled against Sir Lachlan, trying desperately to cover herself, she only succeeded in rubbing her breasts against his chest.

Oh. It felt good.

She had always been starved of the touch she craved. Yesterday, Janet had unleashed something inside her, a need she could no longer deny, and now she couldn’t halt her wayward body from seeking more. With a helpless whimper, she deliberately rubbed her aching, tingling nipples against his chest.

Sir Lachlan sucked in a harsh breath. “Lady—”

“What on earth are you two doing?”

Marjorie froze. Over his shoulder, about twenty feet away, Janet stood on the shoreline, fully dressed in her red velvet traveling gown, her arms folded. Sir Lachlan went rigid, and Marjorie quickly slid down his body back into the water, then stepped well away from him.

“Good morning,” said Marjorie awkwardly to her guardian, her cheeks burning. How could she even explain such unseemly behavior? “There was a, er…fish.”