Dream of Me/Believe in Me

weight of her gown, she looked utterly delighted. “This is wonderful! Why did no one tell me the water is so warm?”
    Before he could do more than gape, she dived from sight. He treaded water, looking around in all directions. Moments later, she surfaced again but easily fifty feet from where she had gone under.
    “You can swim,” Hawk said, rather stupidly he thought for it was hardly necessary to comment on something so supremely evident.
    Krysta grinned. “Raven and Thorgold claim I was born swimming. I suppose they're exaggerating but I've always loved the water.” She disappeared again and this time surfaced near him. Her face alight with happiness, she said, “I've swum in a few rock pools that were this warm but the sea near Vestfold is always colder even in high summer. This is incredible.”
    Hawk, who was finding the water pleasant but cool, could only sigh. He was, of course, infinitely relieved that she had come to no harm. But the sheer terror he had felt when she vanished beneath the waves lingered within him. He could not remember ever feeling such fear, even on the battlefield where fright was the boon companion of the sensible man.
    Fear made him sterner than he would elsewise have been. “The water is not so warm that you cannot take ill from it. Enough of this.”
    She looked surprised and disappointed, but she did not argue. At least she was obedient, he told himself as they regained the beach. But as she bent over, wringing out her sodden gown, Krysta said, “I suppose it doesn't make much sense to swim in all these clothes.” Sheglanced up at him hopefully. “At home, I swam in a shift.” She did not add, although some imp of mischief tempted her to, that there were times when she swam in nothing at all save the silken sheath of her hair.
    He looked at her disbelievingly until he realized she was serious. With a scant ounce of encouragement, the Lady Krysta would be happy to return to the water … in her shift. And just what was he supposed to do? Sit on the beach and enjoy the spectacle? Or perhaps join her? Oh, yes, that would be an excellent idea. The lust he had battled all morning surged abruptly. He cursed under his breath and tossed her the cloak he had abandoned before leaping in to what he supposed was her rescue.
    “Here, put this on.”
    She caught the cloak but said, “Thank you but I'm not cold.”
    She was also apparently oblivious to the way her wet gown clung to her, outlining the high curve of her breasts, etching even the shape of erect nipples, down along her willow-slim waist to the chalice of her hips and the long, slim legs beneath. Hawk had never considered himself a man of great imagination but he needed none at all to envision what she would look like bare to his gaze. She was his promised wife. Many couples lay together before marriage and many brides received the blessing of the Church after their first babe was planted in their womb. No one would gainsay him.
No one …
save just possibly the Lady Krysta herself, and judging by the kiss they had shared in the stable, overcoming her reluctance would be both easy and pleasurable.
    But he was a man of discipline—
dammit—
and no woman, however tempting, was going to make him forget that. He would make her his wife in his own time and on his own terms.
    “Put the cloak on,” he said again, and this time his tone alerted her to danger. Her head snapped up andshe looked straight at him. A flame of color blossomed over her cheeks. She glanced away hurriedly. When she mounted the mare, the cloak was wrapped snugly around her.
    They returned as they had come but in silence. Despite the tumult of his thoughts, Hawk kept a close eye on her. She rode far better than she had scant hours before. She learned quickly and had a natural agility that served her well. He caught himself remembering how she danced and quickly steered his thoughts in other directions, only to encounter the image of her sleek and unfettered, moving through the water with what seemed like more than human grace. Such distraction as she was prone to be would be eased on the training field. He'd pluck half-a-dozen of his men who had imagined they were in for a soft day and work himself until fatigue blocked out all else.
    But his plan was for naught. Three longships, their ominous dragon prows rising high above the water, had appeared suddenly around the point and were heading straight toward the docks. Hawk rose in the saddle, gazing out at