“Reward me? What sort of reward?”
“You will have to wait and see, but I promise you it will be worth it.”
Georgina looked into his eyes and smiled—her grip on him became a little looser. “I’m scared,” she said.
“I know, but that is only temporary. Be scared for a little while, and I will make sure you don’t feel scared after that.”
Georgina became serious and nodded. Lysander lowered one hand to her waist, and she moved hers to his shoulders. He thought about kissing her at that moment, but if he did, they might become distracted by other things when it was of the utmost importance that she learned this vital skill.
She slowly let go of him, and he waited until she started kicking her legs below the surface. When he felt that she could safely stay buoyant under her own power, he let go of her waist and began kicking his legs to remain close to her.
“I’m doing it,” she squealed. “I’m swimming.”
“Well, yes, but not fully. Don’t worry, we’re progressing toward it. For now, you know how to kick your legs to keep your head above water. Keep practicing so you can build up your strength.”
Georgina nodded, a look of determination gleaming in her eyes.
Lysander remained close for the rest of the lesson, though he had no further need to play the hero. Georgina did not sink beneath the surface again. When her strength waned, she allowed herself to rest in his arms, her head tucked beneath his chin, the water lapping gently around them.
There was something disarming, quiet, and unguarded in that closeness. The kind of nearness one earned rather than demanded.
By the time they returned to shore, the sun was brushing the edge of the trees, setting the lake aglow with golden light. Grass clung to their wet feet as they walked up the bank, arms brushing, breaths uneven.
They collapsed together onto the warm earth, the scent of water and grass rising around them. Lysander stretched out on his back, his hands behind his head, his skin tingling from the sun and exertion.
How long had it been since he’d allowed himself this degree of idleness? A day without obligation, free from titles and expectations. He exhaled slowly, feeling more like a man than a duke.
Beside him, Georgina let out a soft sigh and rolled onto her side. He turned his head, and there she was. Flushed and damp and smiling faintly.
Her hair, drying in wild curls, was spread around her like a dark halo. Her cheeks were pink from the sun and exertion, and her lips slightly parted. She looked undone in the best way—relaxed, unpolished, and utterly bewitching.
His eyes dipped lower to the damp linen clinging to her form. Her breasts rose and fell with each breath, the outline of them clear beneath the fabric.
A bolt of heat shot through him. He looked quickly back up at her face.
But she was watching him.
She said nothing, only held his gaze. There was no coyness in it, no artifice. Only openness. Curiosity. Trust.
He rolled onto his side to face her fully, propping himself up on one elbow.
“A promise is a promise.”
A soft smile tugged at her mouth. “Youarea man of your word.”
“And you,” he said slowly, “are a woman I find myself utterly undone by.”
Color bloomed high in her cheeks, but she didn’t look away. Instead, she lifted her hand—tentative, trembling slightly—and placed it against his chest.
“I should like to know,” she said quietly, “how to touch you. Properly.”
He stilled.
Her fingers spread lightly against his skin, her gaze flickering to his lips, then to his eyes again. “If you would let me.”
Lysander took her hand and guided it downward, beneath the band of his damp trousers. His breath caught as her fingertips grazed him.
She froze.
