Page 65 of Red Hawk's Woman

Chapter

Fifteen

She ended the kiss at once and pushed him away from her. “Why, Mr. Hawk. That was unfair.”

“Was it?” he asked. “But you might agree it was pleasurable. And you have not answered my question.”

“Haven’t I?”

He shook his head at her.

“Very well. If you must know, then no, I have never swum naked. No well-brought-up girl would have. Have you?”

“Most usually,” he affirmed with a cheeky smirk. “And I disagree. Many girls I know are well brought up and swim naked. Come, I think you should try it.”

“What? With you here?”

“Aa.”

“Well, this is quite a change, isn’t it? I thought you were the one who had to make sure you didn’t push me too far into passion. Aren’t you afraid I might lure you into doing something⁠—?”

“Please,” he broke in to say.

“Please? Please what?”

“Please would you lure me?”

Her stomach seemed to be having trouble digesting its earlier snack of jerky, for something in the center of her abdomen turned over and over. “Why, Mr. Hawk, I do believe you might have changed your mind.”

“It is possible.”

“Well, so it’s bare-skinned bathing that you want, is it?”

“Aa, it is so.”

“Hmmm…I might need some extremely good convincing.”

“I can be convincing.”

“I’m sure you can be.” She stood to her feet and waded toward him. “But… Stop that.”

He had reached up to untie the belt she’d used to make his shirt fit her. And, with as slick a motion as possible, he removed the articles of war from around his neck and shoulder and threw them to the shore.

His action took her by surprise, for the sight of his nude torso with all the mud gone was playing havoc with her.

He reached around behind her. “You have asked what it would be like being married to me, and I think it time to show you more thoroughly what a married couple might do.” Taking her in his arms, he fell backward in the water, cushioning her as she tumbled along with him.

With intents of retaliation, she tugged on the strings that held up his leggings.

“Thank you.” He smiled at her as he tore the clothing off and threw them also to the shore. “But I think, Miss Effie, that you again wear too many clothes.”

Maybe she should have thought her actions through more thoroughly. Alas, witnessing the man’s almost nude form, for he was standing before her in no more than a breechcloth and her necklace—and there was no longer any mud to cover him—was so disconcerting that when he extended his arm out to grab hold of her shirt, and, when he plucked it up and over her head, she acquiesced a little too easily.

The end result was perhaps something he’d not reckoned, for he stopped suddenly and stared at her as though he could hardly believe his eyes. Eventually he laughed.

“What?” she asked. “Did you honestly think I would go anywhere without this?” She had worn her corset beneath his shirt.

“But the clothing must be uncomfortable.”