Page 20 of Dare to be Wicked

Cassius nodded.

“I will,” he promised. “You’ve my word on it.”

Once he’d drunk his coffee, Cassius considered going back to the house to clean up, but everyone would be at breakfast and he wasn’t ready to see anyone just yet. Instead he took himself off for a swim in the lake, hoping that a bracing dip in cold water would clear his head and make him better able to face Eliza.

He swam for a good half hour, feeling calmer with every minute that passed. By the time he got out, he was feeling rather less as if he was going to climb the steps to Tyburn and more as though he needed to have a serious discussion with a dear friend. He’d do it this afternoon, he decided. Perhaps he could invite Eliza to go for a walk with him, and—

“Cassius?”

Cassius jolted at the sound of the feminine voice, suddenly very aware of the fact that he’d been swimming in only his small clothes, which became all but transparent once wet.

“Christ, Lottie!” he exclaimed, covering his dignity as best he could with his hands and searching wildly about for his clothes.

“Goodness, Cassius, you have… filled out.”

Lottie was staring at him in rapt fascination, her cheeks a little pink, but her eyes upon him, frank and full of admiration.

Despite feeling utterly ridiculous, Cassius discovered he was shallow enough to experience a rush of pride at her words, more so at the look in her eyes as her gaze travelled down his chest to his belly, and then lower before moving back up again. The slow, scrolling inspection of his person made heat erupt beneath his skin and desire surge in his blood. Hell and damnation, this situation would get awkward indeed if he didn’t nip it in the bud at once.

“Where the devil are my clothes?” he muttered, scowling at the ground. He knew he’d left them here somewhere.

“Oh, you mean these?” Lottie stepped daintily to one side to reveal a neat pile of his belongings, which her voluminous skirts had hidden.

“You little devil, you did that on purpose. I never folded them.”

She shrugged, unrepentant. “Well, you’d scattered them hither and yon, anything could have happened to them. Why, someone might even have stolen them.”

Lottie gave him a wide-eyed glance and pretended to gasp in shock at the idea.

“Don’t even think about it,” he warned her.

They stared at each other for a long moment and then Cassius lunged. Lottie squealed and snatched up his clothes, running away from him. She crowed with laughter as he raced after her, through the trees, back towards the summerhouse. Thank God they were out of sight of the house from here. Suddenly Cassius was transported back in time, to memories of chasing Lottie about the grounds after she’d purposely said or done something outrageous to provoke him.

“Ask me nicely and maybe I’ll give them back,” she shouted, dancing out of his reach.

“Give them back or you’ll regret it, you little minx,” Cassius warned her, trying to grab at the trouser leg dangling from the pile in her arms but she dodged out of reach.

“But why would I do that?” she asked, as her heated expression roved over him like a caress. “It’s such a pretty view.”

Cassius felt his breath catch and he ground to a halt. His chest was heaving, but he suspected it was less from the effort of chasing her and more because she’d outright admitted she wanted to look at him, that she liked looking at him… that she desired him.

“Do you like what you see, Lottie?” he asked, aware of the change in his voice.

She stilled, standing in the dappled light beneath the branches of an oak tree. The pink that had flushed her cheeks deepened, and she drew in a sharp breath. There was a pause that felt significant, during which Cassius was aware of the blood rushing in his veins, the thud of his heart in his ears.

“I always have,” she said, the admission somewhat breathless as she met his gaze, something at once vulnerable and defiant glittering in her eyes. “You just never saw me, Cassius.”

His heart ached at the truth of that, at the regret he heard in her voice.

“I see you,” he said. “I see you clearly now, Lottie.”

“Do you?” she whispered.

He nodded.

She licked her lips and the desire to close the distance between them and kiss her was so tantalising his skin prickled with the need to do it. Eliza deserved better than that, though, and so did Lottie.

“You’d best give me my clothes back,” he said, willing her to do it this time. The way she was looking at him was giving his less civilised self some dreadful ideas, which he was far too tempted to give into.