Page 16 of The Earl That Got Away (Sirens in Silk #2)

Chapter Thirteen

Before

Philadelphia

Y ou can swim, I hope,” Basil said as he helped Naila into the boat.

“I can swim but I have never been boating,” she said. “And swimming involves staying close to shore. Unlike boating.”

Naila was generally a little skittish on the water but she would do just about anything for Basil, including following him over a waterfall if he asked.

He helped her get settled at one end of the little boat and then sat to take control of the oars. “Ready?” he asked, sensing her trepidation. “Do you trust me?”

“With my life apparently,” she said with a nervous laugh. “What happens if the oars fall into the water and we’re stranded far from land?”

“Not to worry,” he said cheerfully. “The blades are held in place by oarlocks so they cannot slip into the water.”

“That’s a relief.” She held tightly to the side of the small boat, which felt like it could capsize at any moment. “And you are good at rowing?”

“Reasonably so,” he assured her.

“That is not very convincing.”

“I’m a very strong rower.” He unbuttoned his sporting blazer. “I row almost daily when I am home.”

“You enjoy the water that much?”

“I like the peacefulness of it once I find a rhythm.”

“Hmm.” She was too apprehensive to feel serene, especially as he started to row in strong vigorous strokes, taking them farther and farther from land. A least the water was calm. For now. “What if the water becomes choppy?”

He chuckled, his eyes crinkling. “I see there are limits to your trust in me. Are you certain you know how to swim?”

“Why do you keep asking?” she half-snapped. “Am I going to need to swim for my survival before this adventure is over?”

His smile melted, replaced by an expression of tender concern. “If you are truly worried, we can return to shore. I don’t wish to make you uncomfortable.”

“No.” She gripped the sides of the boat even harder. “If you enjoy rowing so much, I want to experience it with you.”

“Don’t worry then about the water,” he told her. “There used to be rapids here but the city built a dam that makes this part of the river placid and perfect for rowing.”

“That’s a relief.”

They quieted for a while, listening to the sounds of the oars swishing through the water.

Basil rowed in strong, smooth strokes and she became mesmerized watching him in motion.

After several minutes he paused to remove his blazer.

She could almost see the play of the muscles in his arms and legs with each stroke.

She watched his capable hands grip the oars, the power with which he propelled them forward.

He was perspiring from his efforts, beads of sweat gathered on his brow and dampened his shirt under his arms.

“What do you usually wear when you row?” she asked. He was ruining his good shirt.

“I don’t think I should say?”

“Why not? Now I am more curious than ever.”

He grinned. “If the weather allows, I usually end up discarding my shirt when I get too hot.”

“Oh.” The image of Basil shirtless flashed in her mind and suddenly she was overheated, too. Warmth flushed through her body and her cheeks were burning. Her reaction had nothing to do with overexerting herself.

“Isn’t it beautiful out here on the river?” Basil asked. “Are you enjoying the view?”

She licked her lips. “I am very much enjoying the view.”

He stilled as he studied her face. “You are a naughty girl.”

“What can I say?” she returned. “I never thought watching you row could be so... inspiring.”

The cords in his throat moved. “If you keep talking like that, I shall have to come over there and truly inspire you.”

She wondered what he would look like without any clothes on. “You should feel free to remove your shirt,” she said with forced nonchalance.

His brows shot up. “I beg your pardon?”

“I wouldn’t want you to get heatstroke.”

“I am shocked, Miss Darwish,” he teased her, “that you would make such a scandalous suggestion.”

“I am just worried about your health,” she said saucily.

“Is that all?” he pressed. “Maybe you are eager to know me... more fully.”

“I am curious,” she admitted. “I’ve never seen a man without a shirt on. Baba and my brother, Salem, are always fully clothed in my presence. But if I have insulted you—”

“You have not.” He tore off his necktie and pulled the white shirt over his head.

The breath whooshed out of her lungs. Bare-chested, he was even more beautiful. And she immediately saw that the daily rowing had developed the muscles in his arms and chest. Even his stomach was flat and rippled.

“Oh my.” If she’d had a fan, she would have used it to cool herself. She wondered what his biceps felt like. “Can I touch you?”

He shook his head. “If you lay hands on me, this boat will most definitely capsize.”

“It might be worth it,” she murmured.

“I’ll tell you what. You come over here and I’ll teach you how to row.”

That seemed like a poor consolation prize for not being able to touch him but she agreed anyway, scooting over to sit on his bench. He sat behind her, not touching but close enough so that she could feel his body heat.

“First,” he murmured in her ear, a hand soft at her spine, “you must keep your back straight.”

Naila straightened, a shiver running through her body.

His hand feathered along her wrist. “Your arms and lower body will power the oar.”

He showed her how to grip the oars.

“Like this?” The words were breathy.

“Perfect,” he complimented, his breath warm on her skin. “Now push your feet against the foot plate. It will give your stroke more power.”

She braced her feet as he instructed.

“Now pull.” He showed her the stroke, his hands over hers on the oars. “Where the oar enters the water is very important. As is the finish, where the oar leaves the water. Both are factors in maintaining speed and keeping the boat stable.”

His hands fell from hers as she got into a rhythm, backward and forward, moving in the way he’d shown her.

“Excellent,” he said. “You’re a natural.”

Within a few minutes, she was exhausted, her muscles screaming with pain. But she kept at it because she wanted to show off for him.

“You have excellent endurance,” he remarked.

When he sensed she’d tired, he put his hands over hers and joined in the rowing, back and forth together in a way that exhilarated Naila. His front up against her back, they moved as one. She felt his power with every stroke and her body strummed from the sensation of moving in rhythm with him.

He picked up the pace, rowing faster and with more intensity, the boat cutting through the water at a fast clip. She kept her eyes on what she could see of him, at the way his muscles worked with each stroke, his abdomen contracting against her back with each movement.

Completely beguiled, Naila forgot all about her fear of the water. Leaning back into Basil, she sighed. “I hope this afternoon never ends.”

He rowed faster and faster.