Mary Balogh - A Summer to Remember

Besides, she had promised him that she would release him from their engagement at the end of the summer. She could not break a promise even though last night had changed things sufficiently that his honor would make him try to insist. She had not intended to trap him into marriage. She would not do it.

What she had come here for was to have one small adventure, one brief fling of pleasure before settling down to her chosen future. And what she had found here so far was an adventure. She was enjoying herself. She wanted more. She wanted to drink this cup to the dregs, to the last wonderful moment before she must leave.

“Just for an hour then,” she said, reaching out her hand for him to clasp in his own—and then wondering why she had done something so uncharacteristic of her. There was instant connection, both physical and emotional. Walking hand in hand with a man was far more intimate, she discovered, than walking arm in arm.

And more youthful.

More joyous.

He knew exactly where he would take her. It involved walking beside the lake on the house side and passing all the children and youngsters and a few adults splashing and shrieking in the water while others stood or sat on the bank watching. As he had fully expected, Freyja was in the water, swimming with strong strokes farther out than anyone else. Ralf was leaning indolently against a tree trunk, talking with Lady Muir. Both turned and lifted a hand in greeting.

Kit was surprised to discover that he had no wish to jump in and frolic with everyone else, that he felt no urge to race Freyja to some predetermined point. He had wondered—yes, indeed he had, even after two visits to Lindsey Hall. Even after the horse race. He had wondered if seeing her again would rekindle his passion for her. He had wondered it even this afternoon when she had ridden up with Ralf and Alleyne and had thrown all her considerable energy into playing cricket. He had wondered even as he had known that now he must marry Lauren.

But a strange thing had happened during the course of the match. He had thoroughly enjoyed the competition with Freyja, the bantering challenges and exchange of insults. He had felt almost as if time had regressed and he was a boy again, she a girl. He had felt for her all the exuberant camaraderie of old with none of the madness that had gripped him during those dreadful weeks three years ago. He had enjoyed the cricket match, yet all the time as he concentrated on making the game fun for the children and challenging for his older cousins, he was aware of Lauren. He was aware of her sitting cool and ladylike on the blanket, pretty in her light muslin dress and straw bonnet, watching the game. He was aware of her the moment she got to her feet and was tugged off in the direction of the swing by Sarah. He was aware of her playing there with the child and attracting other little ones into her orbit.

He had been amazed by the tenderness of his feelings for her. He was not accustomed to feeling tenderness for women. He did not quite understand the feeling. Yet he liked it. Perhaps, he thought, this was what women meant when they spoke of romance—something warm and gentle and enticing. Perhaps he was involved in a romance with Lauren Edgeworth. His first. Though of course there was more to it than just that—there had been last night.

“Are you sure you do not wish to swim with everyone else?” she asked him. “I do not mind if you do. You must not feel honor-bound to remain with me. I am dull company for someone like you, I know.”

For someone so beautiful and with such impeccable manners and breeding she had a remarkably low image of herself.

“Allow me to be the judge of that,” he said, adjusting their clasped hands so that their fingers were laced. “Lauren, did Baron Galton make no attempt to learn of the fate of your mother? Did the late Earl of Kilbourne make none to discover what happened to his brother?”

She shook her head. “How would it have been possible to discover anything?” she asked. “The world is a large place to search.”

But two members of the British aristocracy would not go unnoticed wherever they went.

“So there was no finality for any of you,” he said.

“It does not matter. I do not think of it.” A lie if ever he had heard one. She was looking down at the grass over which they walked, her face hidden behind the wide brim of her straw bonnet.

“I have connections, you know,” he said. “Men whose business it is to uncover what is hidden, to learn what is seemingly impossible to know. I could call in a few favors. I could set an inquiry afoot. Shall I do it?”

She turned her head sharply then. Her eyes were wide and very deeply violet. “You would do that,” she asked, “for me? Even though if there is anything to discover, it could not be done until long after we part?”

She had been quite adamant last night that she would not marry him even though she had lain with him. Foolishly adamant—she might be with child.

“You have done a great deal for me,” he said. “Allow me to do something in return.”

“Have I?” She had stopped walking. Her eyes were brimming with tears. “But I wish there did not have to be so much deception involved, Kit. I like your family so very much—your mother, your grandmother. Everyone.”

“There is no need for any deception at all,” he said gently. “We could announce our wedding date at Grandmama’s birthday. Not an imaginary occasion. The real thing.”

She shook her head.

“Are you so irrevocably attached to him, then?” he asked. He was beginning to be irritated no end by the Earl of Kilbourne, though he had never met the man.

She shook her head again. “It was our bargain,” she said. “A way out of a tangle for you, freedom for me. Don’t spoil everything, Kit. All I wanted of the summer was a little adventure.”

It was rather lowering to know that she would not marry him simply because she did not wish to do so. But she had never pretended otherwise. He was the fool if he was allowing himself to be beguiled by a summer romance.

He smiled at her and began walking again. “You cannot blame a gentleman for having a conscience,” he said. “We will devote ourselves to the adventure, then. You see that piece of land jutting into the lake up ahead?” He pointed toward it. “It is an island actually. Man-made, of course, as is the lake. We will go there. There is a boat.”

“Thank you,” she said.

He did not know for what he was being thanked. But he was content to stroll onward in companionable silence and to look forward to relaxing on the island with her. The boat was still in its accustomed place, he discovered when they arrived at the little boathouse, and it was in good repair. The pile of towels that had always been kept on a shelf was still there too, and they looked fresh and clean. He took two of them. He rowed the short distance across the water while Lauren sat, relaxed and elegant on the narrow bench opposite him, one hand on the side of the boat for balance. He helped her out on the other side and dragged the boat clear of the water.

On the side of the island farthest from the house there was a wide bank, almost like a small meadow, sloping gently to the water’s edge. It was grass-covered and carpeted with daisies and buttercups and clover. They waded ankle-deep through the wildflowers, and Lauren sat down in the midst of them, clasped her arms about her knees, and gazed about her.

“I was never really fond of the outdoors,” she said with a contented sigh.

“But now you are?”

“Yes.” Her eyes squinted at the bright water.

Kit did not sit down. It was a hot afternoon. He had engaged in an energetic game of cricket, they had walked some distance, and he had just rowed the boat across the lake. He peeled his shirt off over his head, dragged off his boots, and pulled off his pantaloons. He hesitated only a moment before removing his drawers too. Lauren watched him lazily. Just a few days ago, he thought, she would have been bristling with embarrassment and outrage.

“You are very beautiful,” she surprised him by saying.

He chuckled. “Despite all the scars?”

“Yes,” she said.

He splashed into the water and immersed himself. It felt deliciously cool against his hot, naked flesh. He swam several strokes underwater and then surfaced and shook the drops from his eyes. She was still sitting among the flowers, as pretty as any picture, looking cool and unruffled, her face shaded by the wide brim of her bonnet. But she untied the ribbons beneath her chin even as he watched, and let the hat fall backward to the grass while she shook out her dark curls.

He had swum out beyond his depth. He trod water, his arms spread to the sides, watching her take off her shoes and stockings and then get to her feet to unbutton and remove her dress. Her shift clung to her slender curves. He gazed appreciatively at her, marveling that today there was none of the maidenly modesty that had had her undressing inside the folly and then huddling under a blanket to the very water’s edge on the two mornings they had bathed.

And then his lips pursed in sudden shock as she crossed her arms and drew the shift off over her head before dropping it onto the small pile of her other clothing. Naked, she was perfection itself—youthfully taut flesh and muscles; firm, uptilted breasts; long, slender legs, dark hair at their apex. She came down the bank and waded into the water, her eyes on it rather than on him, though she made no attempt to cover herself. Her flesh was pure alabaster in the bright sunlight. He felt his mouth turn dry and moistened his lips before diving under again and surfacing beside her.

He did not touch her. She did not touch him. They smiled at each other and she closed her eyes and lay back on the water. She floated easily and kicked her feet lazily to propel herself backward. He swam a slow crawl at her side.

Did she realize, he wondered, how much she had changed during the short time she had spent at Alvesley? How far she had stepped out from behind her ice maiden mask? Lauren Edgeworth bathing naked in broad daylight with a naked man? Her friends and his would not believe it possible. Could it really be true that she wanted this for only a brief summer out of her life, that she would freely choose to return to her old self as soon as it was over?

“If I try to put my feet down,” she asked, turning her head to look at him after a few minutes, “will I be able to?”

He gauged their distance from the bank. “Probably not,” he said. “But don’t be afraid. You will not sink unless you choose to do so. And I will rescue you even if you do.”

“I am not afraid,” she said. “Kit, teach me to swim like that. Let me try again.”

He turned her over onto her front, his hands skimming sleek, cool flesh. It was as if she moved in that charmed, magic world she had been spinning for the children. This afternoon she could put her face in the water without panicking and breathe without gulping in water instead of air. And today she could kick her feet close to the surface so that her efforts to move forward were not in vain. She learned the arm motions for a crawl in a trice. Within ten minutes she was actually swimming—in water that was at least eight feet deep.

“At this speed,” he said, swimming beside her, “you could probably make it across to the main bank in twenty-four hours. Twenty-three if you did not stop for a rest halfway.”

“Mock on,” she said breathlessly. She probably had more to say, but she needed all her breath and concentration for the task at hand.

He turned her onto her back again after a while, and they floated side by side, her hand in his. He could not remember feeling so relaxed, so contented, so filled with a sense of well-being since . . . Well, perhaps he had never felt this way.

He closed his eyes and soaked up the warmth of the sun on his face and its brightness on his eyelids.

“Some moments,” he said, “should be made to last forever.”

“Mmmm,” she agreed.

But the moments and the truant hour would pass all too quickly, of course. Although their status as a newly betrothed couple gave them much license to spend time alone together, there were limits. Soon enough they must return to the house and all the busy merriment of the house party.

The air felt cool against wet flesh when they came out of the water and climbed the bank. Cool but not cold. The heat of the sun would dry them in no time at all. He spread their towels on the grass and lay down on one. He expected that now she no longer had the water for cover Lauren would wrap the towel about herself and perhaps sit a little apart from him, prim and self-conscious again. He half expected that she would dress as quickly as possible and want to return to the boat.