Married to the Rogue (Season of Scandal #3) - Mary Lancaster Page 0,45
be tied to the willow tree at the end of the path.
“There’s a tumbled-down boathouse at the far end. I found this among other damaged vessels. I patched it up, and it seems to be water-tight. Would you care to go out?”
“I’d love to,” she said eagerly, and they ran the rest of the way like children.
Unhooking the rope from the tree, he pulled the boat to the edge of the water and handed her in. She sat on one of the two benches. Christopher clambered in and sat on the other. He took up the oars and began to row toward the center of the lake and from there around the bend toward the boathouse.
They did not speak much, but a feeling of contentment stole over her. Her muscles relaxed, and she enjoyed the sensation of floating in the sunshine as if they were the only people in the world. There was only the gentle whisper of the breeze in overhanging leaves and the soft splash and creak of the oars. Birds sang in the distance, and a bee buzzed past her face.
Christopher propped up the oars and let them drift, leaning back and lifting his face to the sun. She basked in his lazy company—another facet of his character, beguiling in its contrast to his usual, constant activity. He looked happy and handsome, and her heart fluttered to think this man was her husband.
She moved her foot from a sudden, uncomfortable chill, and a small splash attracted her attention.
She sat up straight. “Oh, no! Christopher, we’re letting in water!”
He sat up so quickly, he almost lost an oar. Grabbing for it, he caused the boat to rock precariously, and more water flooded in around her feet. Hastily, he kicked a small tin bowl toward her. “Can you bail out the water?”
At once, she began dementedly scooping the water from the bottom of the boat and throwing it out into the lake. At the same time, Christopher was heaving on the oars with such speed that they glided toward the shore.
At some point, she realized she was laughing. Christopher cast her an anxious glance, as though afraid she was hysterical, and then an answering grin lit his face. She laughed so hard it was difficult to bail, and in the end, a few feet from the shore, he gave up rowing and jumped over the side, up to his thighs in water. Seizing her around the waist, he hauled her into his arms and waded to the shore.
There, he collapsed, and they lay side by side on the grass as the boat disappeared into the depths.
“Poor, gallant little boat,” she mourned.
“Never mind. We’ll get another.” He turned his head to look at her, smiling. “Most ladies would be shrieking and telling me off for my unforgivable carelessness and their ruined gowns.”
“Oh, well, this is only my old working gown, and I have always lacked sensibility.”
His brow twitched. Unexpectedly, his hand came up and smoothed her hair. “No, you don’t.”
In surprise, she turned her head to face him, and her cheek came into contact with his hand. His finger moved, idly caressing, catching at her breath. It struck her that she could lie here with him like this forever, saying nothing, just drowning in his warm, intense eyes, melting beneath the sweet, lazy stroke of his fingers.
His lips quirked, and his hand fell away as he leapt up. “Come, we must get you home and dry.”
“It’s you who are soaking,” she protested, ashamed of her selfish preoccupation. She rose quickly. “We should hurry.”
*
An hour later, Deborah supervised the laying of the red Turkish carpet on the polished library floor, and she and Christopher sat on the sofa in the window and admired their surroundings.
“You’ve worked wonders in here,” Christopher said. “I never imagined this room could be so charming.”
“I think I will like to sit in here, especially on winter evenings. But at any time, it is a peaceful room,”
He glanced down at her. “Do you feel the need for peace? Are you troubled?”
She thought about it. It had been a good day, especially at the lake. She smiled and shook her head. “No. I’ve asked them to serve tea in the terrace room, which does still smell slightly of paint, but we can go outside if it’s too much.”
“Excellent idea. Rupert will join us. I’m sure the servants already know exactly who he is and what he’s hiding from, so there seems no harm.”