The Duke Effect (The Rogue Files #7) - Sophie Jordan Page 0,6

droplets would also help to clear away the vision of her before him. Of course it was for naught, she was still very much before him. No magical creature but flesh and blood.

His lashes were long and dark, jagged wet spikes that snared her attention—even given her state of distress. The small detail should be beneath her notice. Such things usually were. She rarely gave much consideration to the male gender as a whole unless the man was a patient in need of treatment. Certainly a man’s lashes had never caught her interest before.

This man, she noted, had likely never been ill a day in his life. He appeared quite robust. The very vision of health. He appeared to have no trouble treading water. Water lapped at his rather large and well-formed shoulders.

“Getting out of this pond presents some difficulty,” he finally answered.

“How is that?” she asked, snapping her focus away from his bare shoulders.

“You see”—he glanced toward the shore—“my clothes are over there.”

She followed his gaze, her stare arresting on the pile of clothing on the pebbled ground. She gave a croak and swung her attention back on him.

Evidently his shoulders weren’t the only part of him that happened to be bare. He was fully unclothed and only inches from her. Thankfully, she could not see the rest of him through the murky depths of the pond—not that she attempted to gain a glimpse.

He looked at her rather expectantly. He clearly anticipated for her to turn into a blushing and squeamish female, exclaiming in maidenly protest.

She lifted her chin in an attempt at dignity. He would be sadly disappointed over her lack of histrionics. She had never been a female given to maidenly airs. Another thing that set her apart from other ladies.

“I can assure you, sir . . . you are not in possession of anything I have not seen before.”

Astonishment flickered in his dark eyes . . . and something else. Interest perhaps? For a moment the sentiment was there and then it vanished.

“Indeed,” he murmured slowly, as though digesting her bold claim.

She gave a hard nod. “Indeed.”

“Well,” he said, his deep voice rumbling between them with an austerity that even her dukely brother-in-law failed to manage. “If you have no objections then.”

Turning, he headed for the shore, gliding smoothly, offering her a glimpse of his muscled male back, youthful and strong, undulating with his movements. An inconvenient lump formed in her throat. Who knew a man’s back could be so riveting?

The surface of the pond hardly even rippled as he swam away, which seemed a testament to his inherent agility. She did not have a great deal of exposure to agile men. Most were patients who were aging or ill. Except for her brothers-in-law, of course. But she did not see them as men. They were married to her sisters. They existed in a category of their own.

If you have no objections . . .

Oh, she objected. Heartily so.

Inside she was raging at this man’s intrusion on her pond, and upon her peace . . . and his disruption to her equilibrium.

She watched, frozen in the middle of the pond—except for her treading legs, which kept her from sinking. Although drowning didn’t sound too terrible right now because her face burned hot with mortification. She’d never been one to ogle a man, but here she was doing that very thing. It irked her. She had always thought herself immune to such behavior, but there was no stopping her gasp as he emerged from the pond, revealing himself inch by inch, water sluicing down the long lines of his big body.

All of his body. From the back, at any rate.

His broad shoulders tapered to a narrow waist and hips. But it was his backside that most captured her attention. The tight, well-formed cheeks of his derriere. Saliva pooled in her mouth. A curious impulse seized her to squeeze those cheeks . . . give them a swat and see if they were as firm as they looked.

Madness. She wasn’t a licentious person. She attributed the urge to her scientific nature. She was a curious person. Nothing more.

He bent and gathered up his garments. Turning, he faced her and she saw that his stomach was flat, his chest lightly sprinkled with hair, the sinews of his torso rippling with his movements beneath taut skin.

For all his great height and breadth of shoulders, he was lean and rangy and could use a few additional meals. And yet his strength