Chapter 18
The warmth of Leona’s hand in his was doing dangerous things to his resolve.
Murdock had meant what he said about standing beside her, about facing the council together.
But holding her hand, feeling the delicate bones of her fingers threaded through his, her pulse fluttering against his palm like a trapped bird, made him acutely aware of how much more he wanted than just standing beside her.
He wanted her beside him. In his bed. In his life. In ways that had nothing to do with strategy or council meetings or political maneuvers.
The realization should have terrified him. Instead, it settled into his chest with the weight of inevitability.
“But first,” Skye announced, pulling back from the enthusiastic embrace, “ye must do the things that make people believe ye’re really in love.”
Murdock forced himself to focus on his daughter rather than the woman whose hand he still held. “We agreed to that, lass. At the council meeting, we’ll—”
“Nay, Da.” Skye shook her head vigorously. “Before the council meeting. Ye must practice. And ye must do the important things first.”
Leona’s fingers twitched in his grip. “What important things?”
“Well,” Skye hummed, tapping her chin in a gesture she’d picked up from her Aunt Kristen, “Aunt Ailis says ye must save the lass from something first. That’s how Uncle Killian won her heart. He saved her from a bad person who was trying to hurt her.”
“He’s already done that thrice,” Leona reminded her gently. “Yer da saved me from Ragnall. That’s why I’m here.”
Skye’s face scrunched up in concentration. “But the councilmen ken that already, aye? So it doesnae help now.” She turned in a slow circle, looking out at the loch, the rising sun, the castle in the distance. Then her face lit up. “I ken! Ye must go swimmin' together!”
Murdock felt heat creep up the back of his neck. “Skye…”
“Aunt Ailis and Uncle Killian do it all the time,” his daughter continued, oblivious to his discomfort. “They go to the loch or the river, and everyone kens nae to bother them. The maids giggle about it. They say it’s very romantic.”
The giggling maids had no idea what they were talking about, Murdock thought. Or perhaps they did, which was worse.
Swimming meant removing clothes. Wet skin. Bodies close together in the water, with nothing between them but intention and increasingly threadbare self-control.
He glanced at Leona and found her face had gone the color of summer roses.
“That’s very thoughtful, Skye,” she said carefully, “but I daenae think—”
“Ye said ye’d try me way,” Skye reminded her, crossing her small arms. “Ye promised.”
“Aye, but—”
“And Da promised, too.” Those dark eyes swiveled to Murdock, pinning him with the same look his mother used to give him when he’d tried to weasel his way out of his responsibilities. “Ye always say a man’s only as good as his word, Da.”
Clever little thing. Using his own words against him.
Murdock looked at Leona again. Her hair was coming loose from its braid, dark strands catching the early light. Her eyes were still red-rimmed from crying, but there was color in her cheeks now, life returning to features that had been pale and drawn when he’d found her on the dock.
She’d been planning to leave. To slip away before the council meeting, to return to that bastard Ragnall rather than risk bringing war to Ainsley.
The knowledge made something fierce and possessive rise in his chest.
She was his to protect. His to keep safe. And if swimming with her, if letting his daughter’s innocent matchmaking run its course, might convince her to stay…
“The loch does look invitin',” he noted quietly.
Leona’s eyes widened. “Ye’re nae serious.”
“I’ve learned to trust the women’s instinct.” He kept his voice light, but his gaze held hers. “Me daughter thinks we should swim together. Me maither always said the lasses ken best about matters of the heart.”
“This isnae about hearts,” Leona protested, but her voice had turned breathy. “It’s about strategy. Performance.”
“Aye.” Murdock let his thumb stroke across her knuckles, just once. A small gesture, but he felt her shiver. “And we’ll perform better if we practice, aye?
“Besides,” he continued, before she could marshal another argument, “it’s a week. That’s all the time we have before Ragnall arrives. It’s enough time to come up with somethin'. To prepare. And the loch does look invitin',” he repeated.
Before Leona could respond, Skye took matters into her own small hands. Literally. She bent down, scooped up a handful of water from where it lapped against the dock, and flung it directly at Leona.
“Skye!” Leona gasped as cold water hit her face and soaked the front of her gown.
But the little girl was already running, her bare feet slapping against the wooden planks as she raced back toward the castle.
“I’ll tell everyone nae to bother ye!” she called over her shoulder.
And then she was gone, disappearing up the path and leaving them alone in the quiet morning.
Murdock released Leona’s hand and reached for the hem of his tunic. The linen slid over his head with practiced ease, and he was pleased to see Leona’s eyes widen as she took in his bare chest.
“Ye truly are serious,” she commented, but there was less conviction in her voice now.
“Deadly serious.” He folded his tunic and set it on the dock. His fingers went to the laces of his boots. “Ye heard me daughter. We need to practice.”
“Practice swimmin'.” Leona’s voice had gone flat.
“Practice lookin' like we want to be together.” Murdock pulled off one boot, then the other. “Practice actin' like a betrothed couple rather than two people playin' at it.”
He straightened and found her staring at him. Not at his face, but lower. At the breadth of his shoulders, the muscles in his chest and arms, the trail of dark hair that disappeared beneath his belt.
Heat curled in his gut.
“Turn around, lass,” he said quietly.
Her eyes snapped to his face. “What?”
“Yer bodice.” He moved behind her, close enough to smell the scent of her hair, soap, and something floral. “It has laces, aye? Ye’ll need help with them if ye’re going in the water.”
He stood there, waiting. Giving her time to refuse, to put an end to this before it went somewhere neither of them could come back from.
She didn’t.
Instead, after a long moment, she turned her back to him. “Just… just the top laces. I can manage the rest.”
Murdock’s hands were steady as he reached for the laces of her bodice, but it took every scrap of discipline he possessed to keep them that way. The fabric was damp from Skye’s splash, clinging to Leona’s curves in ways that made his mouth go dry.
He worked the knot free, then loosened the laces one by one. Slowly. Carefully. Trying not to think about the fact that he was undressing her. That she was letting him.
“There.” His voice came out rougher than intended. “That should do.”
“Thank ye.” She stepped away quickly, putting distance between them. “I’ll… I’ll just…”
She gestured vaguely toward the trees that lined the shore, then fled in that direction.
Murdock waited until she was out of sight before stripping off his trews and smallclothes.
The morning air was cool against his skin, but he barely felt it. His body was already reacting to the promise of what was to come. Of Leona in the water beside him, both of them wearing nothing but their shifts, skin slick and bare.
He waded into the loch before she returned, needing the cold shock of water to clear his head. It helped, somewhat. The temperature was bracing, pulling his focus back from dangerous territory.
By the time Leona emerged from the trees, Murdock had swum out far enough that the water came to his shoulders. He turned to watch her approach and nearly forgot to breathe.
She’d removed her gown and bodice, remaining in just her shift. The thin linen clung to her curves, outlining the swell of her breasts, the dip of her waist, the flare of her hips. Her hair was fully loose now, falling in dark waves down her back.
She was beautiful. Absolutely, devastatingly beautiful.
She hesitated at the water’s edge, wrapping her arms around herself in a gesture that might have been modesty or simply cold.
“This is madness,” she called out.
“Probably,” Murdock agreed. “But we’re already mad for agreein' to this scheme, aye? Might as well commit to it fully.”
She laughed at that, a sound of pure exasperation, and waded into the water. Her sharp intake of breath told him she’d felt the shock.
“It’s freezin'!”
“Ye’ll adjust. Come deeper.”
She did, moving with small, cautious steps until the water reached her waist. Then she pushed off and swam toward him with strong, confident strokes. Not the delicate paddling he’d expected from a lady, but smooth strokes. The kind learned from hours spent in the water.
“Ye swim well,” he observed as she reached him.
“Me faither taught me.” Leona floated in the water, her face flushed from exertion. “When I was very small. He said every Highlander should ken how to swim, regardless of what’s between their legs.”
“A wise man.”
“He was.” Something soft and sad flickered across her face. “He used to tell the most ridiculous stories while we practiced. Made up tales about water horses and selkies and ancient kings who could breathe underwater.”
“Tell me one.”
She blinked at him. “What?”
“A story. From yer faither.” Murdock moved closer, close enough to see the water droplets clinging to her lashes. “Ye said he was wise. I’d like to hear his wisdom.”
For a moment, he thought she’d refuse. Then a smile tugged at her lips, transforming her face from merely beautiful to radiant.
“All right. But ye have to promise nae to laugh.”
“I make nay promises.”
She splashed him for that, and Murdock found himself grinning as he splashed her back.