“Nothing predictable about this, you’re right.”

She shivered, and he squeezed her hand.

“We don’t have to,” Daniel said. And the truly wonderful thing was, he meant it. He would not be angry or disappointed if she told him she couldn’t, for any reason at all.

“I want to,” Martha said.

“Well, then,” he said. “Strip down to your chemise.”

That brought her up short, and he cocked his head at her.

“My chemise?”

“Long skirts won’t do much for your backstroke. You reconsidering?”

Daniel’s thumb was stroking the indentation at the juncture of palm and wrist, and somehow that made it all the harder to order her thoughts.

She said, “What are you going to wear?”

“You don’t remember?”

She did, of course. Daniel naked in the water, and the way he had kissed her. The shock and pleasure of it.

“You don’t mean it.”

“Darlin’,” he said, leaning closer so that his warm breath stirred the hair on her temple. “We’re married now. We can do whatever we like.”

She could be a coward, or she could do this thing. This crazy, exciting thing. “Very well,” she said. Before she could change her mind, she turned to offer him her back. That in itself was something it would take a long time to get used to. There had always been a woman nearby to help with dressing and undressing, and now this task fell to Daniel.

It was almost off-putting, how easily he coped, one-handed. In no time her gown was around her ankles; her short corset and petticoat followed, and then her moccasins—she steadied herself with a hand on his shoulder when he lifted one leg and then the other—and finally her stockings. Then he reached for her drawers, and she stepped away.

“I don’t think silk and a bit of lace will slow me down at all,” she said.

His hand was still on her leg, moving upward with a gentle and devastating touch. “Maybe not you,” he said. “But these things are sure in my way. Since when do women wear drawers, anyway?”

She scowled at the change in the direction of the conversation, but she answered. “I suppose it’s a French fashion. I think they had just been introduced when I first moved to Manhattan. Now everyone wears them.”

He raised a brow.

“Everyone of my acquaintance. All the ladies of my acquaintance. In Manhattan.”

He was tugging at the lace edging of her drawers, very softly. “But how do you know who’s wearing them? And more important, why do you wear them?”

In her irritation, Martha said what she otherwise would never have said. “Because the silk feels good.”

His hand was moving again. “So it rubs you in the right way.”

“Daniel.”

“Hmmm?”

What was it she meant to say? She couldn’t think like this. It felt as if she was dissolving, as if her flesh had turned to liquid and was flowing toward him. With tremendous effort she pulled away.

She said, “I want to swim. Right now.”

“Hold on, girl. Let me get out of my breeches.”

She didn’t trust him, but neither did she want to go without him and so she stood there while he stripped, sling first and then shirt—it was shocking, how few clothes he wore, really—and finally his breeches and moccasins.

He was fully aroused, and completely at ease. Martha, coward that she was, closed her eyes and when she opened them again, he had slipped the sling back into place and was holding something out to her. A long strip of fabric.

“Will you help me bind my arm in place? It’ll go quicker if you do.”

It was the first time he had asked for her help, and it struck her that she had been waiting for this. Wondering when he would let her close enough to do what she could for him, if he could trust anybody with that. Her whole body flooded with relief and thankfulness and love. It was a word they hadn’t yet used, but at this moment she might have.

Instead she did as he asked. When she had finished to his satisfaction and her own, they stood for a moment in the light of the falling water.

He said, “Do you trust me?”

She took his hand, and they jumped.

—

Her hair flowed around her, a long dark flag that sparked with color and then fell like a cloak over her shoulders as they broke the surface.

She blinked water out of her eyes, put back her head, and laughed.

“I’d like to do that again.” With a wiggle she dove underwater and swam away.

The simple truth was, she made him happy. Daniel stayed just where he was to watch her moving through the water, sleek and fast, as flexible as a reed.

When he caught up with her she moved in so close that she must feel the fact of his arousal but now there was nothing of embarrassment or shyness in her expression. Treading water he could feel the warmth of her, the curves of breast and hip as she pressed against him, but he couldn’t reach out for her.

It struck him then: She was teasing him. The idea surprised him, but he kept that out of his expression.

“Aren’t you the brave one.” He looked past her shoulder. “You’re giving Gabriel quite a shock.”

She jerked around then shrieked; no sign of Gabriel or anyone else.

“You rotter. You fiend!”

Daniel laughed. “Tease and thou shalt be teased.”

She was off again, swimming toward the falls. Daniel passed her and kept going, pushing right through the curtains of water to the other side. To his satisfaction she followed him without hesitation or pause.