“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 then fell into step behind them as they made their way through the dark woods to her home. When they got to the road that led to Owen’s home, he handed Nash’s things to her, and then Owen bade them an awkward farewell, as if he did not want to depart.
“Let’s meet tomorrow,” she told Owen. “We’ll work on your swimming again.”
“We can meet at the bridge,” Owen said, and to Lilias’s delight, Nash agreed, though he did sound a trifle reluctant.
Once Owen departed, Nash strode along toward her house for a moment, and Lilias racked her mind for a way to ask him about his family that was not too intrusive. She’d seen a family portrait on one of her visits, and there was a boy and young girl in the painting who had to be his siblings.
“Do I truly look heavy?” she asked, unable to think of a better way to start the conversation.
“No. You look perfect, and you’re light as a feather.” His compliment would have made her smile, except he sounded irritated, and he picked up his pace, as if he wanted to be rid of her. At this rate, they’d be at her house in no time.
Blast. She wanted to learn something about him.
“Then why did you tell Owen I looked heavy?”
He paused, glancing down at her. In the moonlight, she could just make out his face and see his eyebrows arch. “Sorry about that. I didn’t consider it might hurt your feelings. I was trying to ensure that Owen was not embarrassed if he couldn’t carry you.”
Her chest tightened at his words. “You’re quite nice.”
“No. No, I’m not, Lilias,” Nash replied and started walking once more. Silence stretched for a long time, and as her home came into view, Nash said, “But Owen seems to be truly nice. He reminds me of my brother.”
“You have a brother?” she asked, refusing to feel guilty about not mentioning the portrait she’d seen.
“Not anymore.” His clipped tone did not invite questions, so she bit her lip as he set her on her feet. He took his belongings from her, silence stretching and nearly killing her, and then he slowly put on his shoes. When he finally stood, she thought it likely he’d simply leave, but he said, “He died last year.”
His words stole her breath, and for a moment she recalled the image of the light-haired boy in the portrait. “Oh. I’m terribly sorry. How did he die?”
“He drowned.”
The pain in Nash’s voice pierced Lilias’s heart. She inhaled a long, steadying breath as her own grief over the loss of her father rose to the surface. “Is that why you decided to help me teach Owen to swim?”
