Page 40 of Win Me, My Lord (All’s Fair in Love and Racing #5)

Ahead, the source of the stream appeared—a small, translucent pool.

“It’s fed by an underground spring,” she said. “So it’s always the same temperature year-round.”

And Bran understood.

This was a gift.

It touched him in those deep, dark places that in his entire lifetime only this woman had been able to reach.

“I can leave you alone, if you like.”

His brow furrowed. “Why would you do that?”

“So you can swim.”

“Stay.”

It emerged from his mouth with more command than was his intent.

Her misgiving transformed into a smile, and gathering clouds dissipated.

“Besides,” he began.

Her head tilted. She was listening.

A wicked smile tugged at his mouth, and he did nothing to suppress it. “Who’s stopping me from swimming with you here?”

Who’s stopping me from swimming with you here?

Artemis swallowed.

Who , indeed.

Certainly not her.

Beneath her captivated gaze that couldn’t seem to tear itself away from him, he shrugged off his coat.

“In fact,” he continued, “you can join me if you like.”

He’d begun untucking his shirt from his trousers.

Oh, dear.

She was in trouble.

And to think how innocently this morning had begun. She’d merely intended to check on Little Lady, then go for a ride.

At dawn.

The time of day she knew Bran liked to walk and swim.

Bran’s time of day, in short.

She’d known he would be in the stables—had absolutely known it.

So, not exactly innocent.

But also not with the intention to seduce or be seduced.

Simply, she’d known swimming brought him joy, and Somerton had this lovely, spring-fed pool and he should know about it.

Innocent.

He lifted his shirt over his head, each individual muscle in his arms, chest, and stomach flexing to the movement.

Her body’s response—as if sparked into instant flame—decidedly not innocent.

His gaze upon her— challenging her … daring her —his hand lowered to the buttons of his falls.

Her mouth went dry.

Pixie whinnied.

“Oh,” said Artemis, brightly—too brightly. “I need to see to Pixie.”

She whirled around and led Pixie to the nearby sweet chestnut tree, where she tethered her loosely. With great concentration, she attempted to regulate her breath and gather her composure.

A tough proposition when she could hear Bran undressing behind her—the hollow thud of a boot hitting the ground, followed a few seconds later by the rustling sounds of trousers, then socks, being removed.

The man should be quite naked by now.

She searched for something to say that had nothing to do with what occupied the forefront of her mind— Bran … naked —and latched onto the first thing it came to. “Did Lady Gwyneth speak to you yesterday?”

“About?”

“About her intentions regarding her London season.”

“Ah,” he said. “Do you know of a good modiste?”

So, Lady Gwyneth hadn’t yet informed her brother of her plans. As it wasn’t Artemis’s place to interfere, she said, “I can give her the direction of a few.”

Surely enough time had passed for him to have entered the water by now.

She risked a glance over her shoulder.

Enough time had not passed.

His back to her, he’d begun wading into the pool—fully, gloriously naked —the broad expanse of his back … the narrowing of his waist … the taut buttocks … the thick thighs … the livid scar running up the length of his right thigh to hip … all man.

A man whom life kept testing.

A man who always rose to the fight and came through to the other side.

In a surprisingly graceful movement, he shifted his weight forward and entered the water, soundlessly gliding forward with smooth strokes.

“You can find your way back to Somerton,” she called out. She must leave—or, at least, try.

He flipped onto his back and, across the short distance of land and water, his naked body met her gaze. “You said you would stay, so stay.”

Heat flushed through her as she tried very, very hard to keep her gaze locked onto his. But it was very, very difficult with all those muscles on display, and, well, those other bits, too. “I …” Oh, words wouldn’t come, and besides they were of no use to her, anyway.

So, she nodded and broke her gaze from his, her attention intensely concentrated on the ground before her as she made her way to an outcropping of mossy gray stone at the water’s edge.

Bran was now swimming, lost in his own world, she suspected.

Instinctively, she began unlacing one of her boots and tugged it off, then the other.

She slipped off her stockings and dipped her feet into the water. “Ah, perfect.”

Bran turned, exuding openness and serenity. “You said it’s this temperature all year round?”

“Aye.” Without a staying thought, the next words were out of her mouth. “If you accept Rake’s offer, you could swim here every morning.”

Golden eyes narrowed on her, and she suddenly felt as transparent as this pool, the air between them growing heavy with the unspoken—unspoken words … unspoken intentions … unspoken feelings. “Would you like that, Artemis?”

Yes , screamed everything unspoken inside her.

“It’s your future,” she said, somehow. “It doesn’t matter what I want.”

His head cocked subtly to the side. “Doesn’t it?”

A look, opaque and determined, had entered his eyes— intention —and she couldn’t speak.

“Artemis,” he said, “what you want matters very much.”

With a powerful stroke, muscles of chest and arms tensing and releasing, he glided forward. She sensed a seismic shift in the conversation. What they had been talking about …

They no longer were.

And what they were now talking about …

Well.

A shiver traced through her, lighting little nerve endings … arrowing through her veins … pooling deep inside her sex. Now, he was close enough that all she would have to do to be touching him was extend her leg.

His head tipped back, the strong column of his throat exposed, he said, “Do you want me to massage your foot?”

“If you like.” How utterly unlike itself her voice sounded.

A smile curling up one side of his mouth, he shook his head. “Do you want it?”

She swallowed. “Yes.”

Into the water he reached for her foot. Capable fingers dug into her muscles and began kneading. A long groan slipped from her parted mouth. “Oh, that feels good.”

“See how it works?”

Her eyes had drifted shut with pleasure. They opened and met his. “What do you mean?”

The smile yet curled about his mouth, but his eyes glittered with seriousness. “All you ever have to do is tell me what you want, Artemis.”

“And?” Her voice had gone utterly breathless.

“And I’ll give it to you.”

She’d lived a privileged life. From the outside, she was a lady who had everything she’d ever wanted.

Except for the man before her.

Once, she’d been denied him.

But now, here he was, offering himself to her.

All she had to do was give voice to her wanting—and she could have him.

Put another way, he would be hers.

Within his golden eyes shone confirmation.

“Do you want me to rub your other foot?”

“Yes.”

His strong hands on her felt so good.

“Do you want me to massage your calves?”

He moved closer, so his torso was now out of the water.

And just below that clear, tensile surface …

His cock— long, hard, ready.

She could melt with desire, here and now.

“What else do you want, Artemis?”

It was her turn, he was saying.

This felt so novel, giving voice to her wants.

Almost transgressive.

But if she didn’t want to die of longing on the spot, she would have to risk this unknown—and speak her desire.

And this man would move heaven and earth to give it to her.