Chapter Twelve
Emer ran her fingers through her tangled hair again, stalling for time as she decided what in the world to say to Broccan. How did he not see that this was not at all the same as the village bathing in the river at the end of a long day in the fields?
It was just them, far from anyone and anything.
They weren’t out in the open, in plain sight of the whole village.
Sneaking out to a private bath with a man as handsome as Broccan felt very different indeed than washing off in the river.
And if Broccan didn’t see that, should she really point it out?
Perhaps he didn’t find it odd at all. Perhaps he didn’t feel the strange tug towards her that she did him, like she couldn’t do anything but keep walking closer.
And if he didn’t think it odd that they were out here alone swimming together, that meant that she was the only one who felt that way.
Lord, how mortifying would it be if he realized she was over here drooling at his bare chest while he was utterly unmoved by her.
Perhaps she was overthinking the entire thing.
That was most likely, to be sure. Emer had a tendency to think too much; Alannah, not enough. She rushed in when Emer stayed back and considered.
What would Alannah do in this situation?
Emer almost laughed aloud thinking on it.
She knew precisely what her sister would do—the same she’d done the night Conan came to the Hart’s Rest. She would go after what she wanted.
Emer wasn’t quite that bold, but she could be bolder.
Nearly out of hair to comb, she took a deep breath and lifted her gaze to Broccan.
For just a moment, she caught him unguarded. He stood still as a stone, his beautiful gray eyes boring into her. As quickly as she noticed it, the look was gone, replaced with the walls Broccan always kept firmly in place.
The muscle in his jaw worked. Emer’s toes gripped the sandy lake bed.
Why did he have to be so handsome and so prickly and so kind all at once?
She’d never been so confused. One minute he was telling her she needed to go have fun, and the next he was looking like he regretted ever thinking such a thing, let alone suggesting it.
“Do you think you could swim to that shore?” she asked, pointing at the nearest curve to her left. It couldn’t have been much more than a hundred feet away.
Broccan’s eyes cleared, brightening. “Could you?”
Emer grinned at him. “Let’s find out.” She pushed off from the sandy bottom, hoping her body remembered the motions as she swam toward the shoreline. She didn’t stop to see if Broccan followed, not trusting herself to stay afloat for long if she wasn’t moving forward.
By the time she reached the place she’d pointed him toward, Emer was gasping for breath and trying not to take in water with air.
It had been a long time since she’d attempted a swim like that, and she wasn’t certain fun was how she’d describe it.
But she was proud of herself for at least making it there without also making a fool of herself.
Of course, Broccan was already waiting for her, just in front of a giant stand of reeds. “Not bad for someone who doesn’t swim.”
Emer grinned at him, but her smile floundered with her footing.
Broccan could stand here, but she couldn’t.
Waving her arms in front of her, she debated whether she was desperate enough to ask him for help.
The last thing she needed was to look even weaker than everyone already thought.
But when she let her feet drop until she found the bottom, her head was fully submerged.
In the end, exhaustion won out. She was simply too tired from the swim to tread water and then swim back.
“I can’t touch,” she told Broccan, tilting her head up so her chin was just barely above the water, her arms working too hard in front of her.
He held out one hand to her.
She grasped it like her life depended upon it, finally taking a minute to catch her breath after their race.
“Emer.” His voice was gentle, quieter than she’d ever heard it. “I’ve got you. You can relax.”
He did, too. His arm didn’t even bend as it supported her entire weight. She stared in disbelief, loosening her grip and testing how well she could stay afloat just holding his hand. “How are you doing that? I should be too heavy.”
“You weigh as much as my right leg, if that.” As if to prove his point, he shook his arm up and down, moving her effortlessly right along with it. “See. I can hold you. Do you want to swim back or do you want me to carry you?”
Was both an option? Emer didn’t want him to think she couldn’t make the swim back, but she rather liked the idea of being so close to him. “I can swim.”
“Aye, but can you win?” A glimmer of amusement danced in his eyes.
“Only one way to find out.” Determined to make a good showing, Emer let go of his arm and took off back to the tree-lined shore they’d left behind.
The second swim was even more difficult. Her arms and legs both burned as badly as her lungs when she reached the shallows. “Is it possible to sweat while you’re swimming?” she asked, doubling over to catch her breath.
When there was no reply, she straightened, looking around. “Broccan?”
He stood to her left, deeper in the water, facing away from her.
“Broccan, are you alright?”
“You—” He waved a hand toward her, as though that word was somehow confusing. “You went too far. Out of the water.”
Emer looked down to find that she had, in fact, erred on the side of caution with regard to the water’s depth. It lapped gently around her waist, leaving her chest bare.
And he’d turned around out of courtesy.
She waded toward him until the water reached her shoulders again. “We probably should head back soon,” she told him. “We still have to check for leeches and get dressed.”
He nodded, heading for her. “Are they bad here?”
“There are more in the lakes than in the river, but they’re not too bad. Alannah once had one right on her arse,” she laughed. “I swore I’d never let her live that down.”
“And you’re holding true to your oath. I’m certain she’d be pleased.”
Broccan turned around again while Emer got out and dried off. She checked her front for the little pests and didn’t spot any. They didn’t hurt, but they did look frightful. Holding her dress over her front side, she called Broccan out to check her back.
She faced the trees as he walked out of the lake, her heart quickening.
“Well, I have good news and I have bad news.”
“What’s the bad news?”
“You have a leech.”
Emer groaned. “And the good news?”
“It’s not on your arse.” She heard the smile in his voice and was so very tempted to turn around and see if he was actually grinning. It happened so rarely she didn’t want to miss it, but she also wanted to afford him the same courtesy he had her. “Have a seat, I’ll get it off.”
She knelt down on the soft grass, propping her bare bottom on her legs instead of sitting straight on the ground, and still clutching her dress to her chest. Emer felt Broccan’s presence behind her, closer than he’d ever been.
Her skin turned to gooseflesh as his fingers ran over her back, moving her hair over her shoulder.
“Are you cold?” His voice sounded rough.
“No. I’m alright. If it’s not coming off we can just let it fall.”
“Are you suggesting that I don’t know the proper way to remove a leech?”
Emer snorted. “I’d never dare.” She felt the familiar pinch when he got the thing off.
Broccan swore an oath then moved away. “Hold on. It’s bleeding a lot.”
“They always bleed a lot.”
Something soft pressed against her back, surprising her. Emer looked over her shoulder to see what he’d used to staunch the bleeding. Only to discover that he hadn’t dressed yet. Her head snapped straight forward. Good lord. Everything on this man was huge.
“You’re going to ruin your shirt,” she managed.
“I have other shirts.”
Neither of them mentioned the eyeful Emer had accidentally gotten as he finished cleaning her up.
But as they dressed and Emer thought on it more, she realized exactly what she wanted to say in answer to Broccan’s question earlier.
They wove through the dense forest that surrounded the little lake, walking side by side once they reached the field beyond.
“You turned around when I was out of the water,” she told him softly.
Broccan frowned at her. “Of course. I didn’t want to intrude.”
“No one turns around at the river or when they’re swimming with their friends. That’s why it’s different.” Because if he felt that he was intruding, it meant that he wasn’t just looking—he was liking what he saw.