Page 67 of A Highland Bride Forgotten
The water was cold enough to sting, the sharp, clean cold of water fed by streams running down from the hills. River glanced back over her shoulder to find Archer watching her.
“Did ye ever swim here?" she asked.
His gaze shifted briefly to the water. “Aye.”
“With Keir?”
A short laugh escaped Archer. “Aye. Mostly because he insisted upon it.”
"I cannae imagine him insisting’ upon anythin’,” River said sarcastically. If there was one thing Keir liked to do, that was deciding on something and seeing it through, no matter what.
Archer barked out a laugh. “He is a stubborn one.”
“Do ye still swim?”
“Sometimes,” said Archer. “If the weather is nice. But I havenae been here in a long time.”
River didn’t mind the cold. If anything, it helped clear her head, and now that they were there, the water seemed too tempting. She could simply slide into the depths of the lake, into the dark waters, let them wash away every single thought from her mind until it was blank once more, free of worry.
She stood and began unfastening her cuffs. Behind her, there was only silence.
“What are ye doin’?” Archer asked, a hint of alarm in his voice.
River glanced over her shoulder at him, a mischievous smile on her lips. “What does it look like?”
“It looks like ye’re removin’ yer clothin’.”
The bluntness of the statement nearly made her laugh. She didn’t respond to him. She only continued to undress, firstshedding off her shawl, then her petticoat, then her stay and everything down to her shift, which she kept on. The breeze hit her skin, drawing goosebumps from her, but River ignored the sensation. Ever so slowly, she dipped her foot into the water, keenly aware of Archer’s eyes on her the entire time.
It was cold; freezing, in fact. River hissed through her teeth, and behind her, Archer laughed softly, sounding entirely too pleased by this development.
“Och, daenae sound so satisfied.”
“Ye appear to be sufferin’,” he noted.
“I am perseverin’,” River countered.
“Bravely.”
“Very much so.”
She took another step and the hem of her chemise brushed against her legs, the cold water glueing the fabric against her like second skin. She took another step, then another, and by the time the water reached her knees, she was beginning to question every decision she had ever made.
When she turned around to look at him, Archer’s shoulders were shaking. The bastard was laughing at her. In retaliation, River scooped up a handful of water and splashed it in his direction, but the distance was too great for it to reach him.
Her skin stung from the cold, but ever so slowly, she was getting used to the temperature. Perhaps it was a little colder than she had thought, but she was nothing if not determined—and stubborn—and so she refused to get out of the lake without a proper swim first.
If she was going to be in the water, though, so was Archer.
“Come in, then,” she called.
“Nay,” Archer was quick to say.
“Why?” River taunted. “Are ye afraid of a wee cold?”
Archer gave her a long-suffering smile, shaking his head. “Nay, I’m nae afraid.”
"Ye look afraid.”
