Lady Lilias and the Devil in Plaid - Julie Johnstone Page 0,8

what she hoped was a warning look like the one her father used to give her when he’d lost patience with her antics. It had been rare, but it had occurred.

“That’s obvious,” Nash said.

She frowned, unsure whether it was a compliment or not and if he thought that a good thing.

“What are the other reasons?” he asked.

“I thought if we surprised you, you might be intrigued enough to come.”

“You’re quite honest, aren’t you?” He sounded as if he was not used to such behavior.

“I don’t see the point of being otherwise. Now…” Though the conversation was fascinating, the night was slipping away. “Shall we start?”

“I shall start,” Nash replied. “You’ll sit there.” He pointed at the grass.

“I shall not!” she said hotly.

“You will or I’ll leave and not help at all.”

“But it was my idea to teach Owen to swim!”

“It may have been, but you are a girl.” She opened her mouth to protest, but he continued. “And I have enough honor that I cannot, will not, allow you into dangerous water at night. You could catch cold. You could slip and twist your ankle. You could be bitten by a snake. I would never forgive myself if something happened to you.”

That was the most gallant thing anyone had ever said to her. She couldn’t even muster the outrage to protest again, nor the wish to show him what an excellent swimmer she was. She ought to be irritated, she supposed. He wanted her to sit on the bank while he taught Owen to swim, after all, but she could not find a hint of the emotion in her. He had not said he didn’t think her capable; he’d said he wanted to protect her. Warmth filled her, and she had the most embarrassing desire to sigh at him.

Instead, she simply nodded. “I suppose someone should keep watch.”

“Yes,” he agreed quite readily, sounding relieved, and she half wondered if he had thought she’d argue. “You will make an excellent guardswoman.”

So for possibly the first time in her life, Lilias did as she was told and sat while Nash taught Owen to swim. He was kind and patient, and he was an excellent instructor. In no time, he had Owen with his head underwater, stroking his arms and kicking his legs. And as the grand finale to the night, Owen swam for five strokes to Nash. Lilias jumped up in her excitement, caught her foot on a tree root, and fell face forward onto the dirt, twisting her ankle in the process.

She cried out in pain, and before she could even right herself, Nash was there, grabbing her by the forearms and then helping her up. “Are you all right?”

In the moonlight, she could see the outline of his strong jaw, his head tilted toward her, his eyebrows raised. His hands were cold from being in the water, but she didn’t mind one bit. “I’m fine,” she said, not wanting to admit that her ankle was already throbbing.

“Thank God,” Owen said, coming up behind Nash.

When Nash released her and she put all her weight on her ankle, she almost fell down again. Nash caught her by the elbow and tugged her to his side, where he encircled her waist to hold her up. She had never felt protected like that in her life.

“You can’t walk home like this,” Nash said.

She hated to be helpless, but he was right, and the idea of him carrying her was not one she minded. She was really warming to it when he turned to Owen. “Can you carry her?”

Lilias felt her jaw drop open, but before she could recover from the sting of him not wanting to do the deed himself, she was being pushed gently out of Nash’s strong embrace and into Owen’s hands. Owen awkwardly slipped an arm under her leg as she protested, and he ignored her. He got her up against his chest, took two steps, and promptly tripped, sending them both flying forward, but Nash somehow managed to stop them from falling.

“I’m sorry, Lilias,” Owen said, and she could hear the misery in his voice.

“I’m sure she’s quite heavy,” Nash assured Owen, to her astonishment and irritation. “She looks it.” And then he jostled her out of Owen’s grasp, into his own, and gripped her under her legs while bringing her into the crook of his other arm and against his very solid, wet chest. “Which way?” he asked her.

She pointed, still vexed with him. Owen gathered their things and