Apparently, both she and Nick had misread the situation, and Teddy did not necessarily need his mother’s approval to pursue her. From the way he steadily regarded her, adulation brimming in his eyes, she feared he was about to proclaim himself.
She began gently, hoping to dissuade him. “I would hate for you to displease your mother by paying me court—”
He cut her off with a wave of his hand. “Mother has objected to every lady I’ve brought around.
That is nothing new. I am confident she will soon see that you—a mature woman of advanced years—are just the thing she needs in a daughter-in-law. Some young debutante would be far too flighty and capricious of nature to handle Mother’s moods and demands.”
She felt the color drain from her face. The biting wind at her cheeks did not chill her quite so much as his words.
Advanced years?
If not stuck in a boat with the dreadful man, she was certain she would find a way to excuse herself. As it were, she sat there and listened to Teddy pontificate on how very well suited she was to serve as a daughter-in-law to his estimable mother.
“Mother can be difficult and demanding, but you’re just the sort to dance attendance on her…”
Dance attendance? Did he want a wife or a companion for his mother? Her burning indignation delayed the rest of his words from registering. But when she did hear him, her indignation only escalated.
“You have such a forbearing and biddable nature. I know for certain Mother will grow to appreciate you.”
Forbearing? Biddable? Who was he talking about? Certainly not her.
Even though no formal proposal had been issued, Meredith felt a lasting and deadly noose settle about her neck. Unless, that is, she found some way out of this dilemma.
She looked helplessly at the distant shoreline, wishing it were closer, that she was anywhere but trapped on this boat. Among the figures dotting the land, one seemed to materialize and separate from the others. She identified the black Hessians and buff-colored breeches and knew instantly it was Nick. The hard line of his body faced the water, and she knew he watched their little boat.
She could not help thinking how pleased he would be to learn that Teddy was still very much in pursuit of her. That he in fact seemed on the verge of a proposal.
“Meredith? Are you well?”
Teddy leaned forward in the boat and sent it rocking unsteadily. She clutched the sides, sniffing back the ridiculous urge to weep.
“Ah,” he murmured knowingly. “You are moved, I can see…”
She shook her head doggedly from side to side, watching in horror as Teddy’s eyes drifted shut and his head dipped her way. She lurched back from the impending kiss, so intent on dodging his puckered lips that she barely registered the increased rollicking of the boat. Until it was too late.
She simply sought to avoid his kiss. Still, she had no time to consider that a capsized boat might mean more than a soak but a likely drowning. Even without the burdensome weight of her dress, she was only a fair swimmer.
With a shriek, she plunged into the icy water, her open mouth swallowing a lungful of water. Her legs kicked at the heavy, sucking weight of her skirts. She broke the water’s surface for a moment, just long enough to hear Teddy wailing her name before her skirts dragged her back down. She sank deep enough for her feet to brush the muddy bottom of the lake. Fighting the tangle of skirts and petticoats, she tried to push off the bottom, to propel herself upward, but could gain no purchase.
The burning in her lungs increased to dizzying proportions. Her mind drifted in a dreamlike haze. A face emerged. Nick. With renewed vigor she clawed at the water, determined that she would see him again. She would not die this way.
And in that bleak life or death moment, she realized how foolish she had been to consider marrying another man when her heart belonged to him.
* * *
Nick’s arms sliced through the water in smooth, swift strokes until he reached the boat. It floated upside down with an idleness that mocked his heart-stopping panic. Havernautt slapped the lake’s surface, treading water and calling Meredith’s name in frantic tones. Nick wasted no time in such a helpless endeavor, instead disappearing beneath the water’s surface with one great gulp of air. Thankfully, the lake wasn’t that deep, and he was able to make a general sweep of the area beneath the boat. His eyes could see nothing in the murky water but they strained nonetheless, searching for a glimpse of dress. Seconds ticked past. He thought his heart might explode from his chest. Possibly from lack of air, but he suspected more from panic.
Panic and something else he could not quite name.
A lifetime passed before his hand grasped material so soft and lissom it could only be the wet fabric of Meredith’s gown. He yanked hard and was awarded the solid feel of her body tumbling into his arms. Nick kicked off the lake’s bottom and sent them both surging to the surface. He clamped one arm under her br**sts and swam for shore, not giving a thought to Havernautt, who struggled to climb inside the boat he had finally managed to right.
They were swarmed the moment they reached shore. Meredith coughed in his arms, the sound music to his ears. It meant she was breathing. She lived. He broke through the mob and laid her on one of the blankets. Aunt Eleanor hovered close, wringing her hands as he rolled Meredith on her side and pounded her back, forcing her to cough up any residue from her lungs.
“Where is my son?” Lady Havernautt ranted from her chair.
“Rowing back in the boat,” Lady Derring replied, her snort of disgust undisguised.
“Coward,” Portia muttered in a voice that, while failing to meet Lady Havernautt’s ears, succeeded in reaching others.
Nick felt his temper boil as he glanced out at the lake where Havernautt rowed at crawling pace to shore. If he hadn’t been here today, she would have drowned. To think he had almost stayed in London.
She ceased coughing but her chest still rose and fell with labored breaths. Her bleary eyes blinked up at him from her ashen face. He caressed one cheek, sweet relief flooding him.
“You need to take her to the house,” Aunt Eleanor directed. “Her teeth are chattering.”
He nodded. Without a word, he swept her into his arms. In seconds he secured her beside him in the sole carriage that had delivered Lady Havernautt to their lakeside picnic. The rest of them had walked the short distance from the house.
Lady Havernautt squawked from her chair at this acquisition of her transportation. “That’s my carriage!”
“I’ll have it returned,” he called out, indicating to the driver that he should proceed. The driver looked uncertainly from Nick to his clearly displeased employer, the reins lax in his hands.
“Drive,” Nick barked. The driver took one look at his hard face, forgot about the squawking Lady Havernautt, and slapped the reins.
Meredith rested her head against his shoulder on the brief drive to the house, saying nothing. Her eyes drifted shut. Spiky wet lashes cast crescent-shaped shadows on her cheeks. He rubbed her arms briskly, trying to infuse some warmth into her, hoping to see even a touch of color return to her cheeks.
When they arrived at the house, Nick commanded the wide-eyed housekeeper to fetch a hot bath to Meredith’s room. He then guided her upstairs. Once in her room, he closed the door and began removing her sodden clothes without a single thought to propriety. All that mattered was getting her warm.
At this, she revived herself enough to exclaim, “What are you doing?”
“Getting you out of these wet clothes.”
“You mustn’t.” She slapped weakly at his hands.
He grabbed her wrists and looked her in the eyes. “It is nothing I haven’t seen before.”
A charming flush of color returned to her face at that reminder. He added in a softer, coaxing voice, “You need to get dry and warm yourself before you take ill. Now be a good girl and stand still.”
After a moment’s hesitation, her hands dropped to her sides. He made short work of undressing her, trying not to let his eyes stray to the curves each removed article of clothing revealed. He grabbed a dressing gown tossed over the screen and quickly wrapped it around her. Sitting on the bed, he pulled her down with him so he could rub warmth back into her limbs.
As he blew hot air on her chilled palms she pointed out, “You’re wet.”
He paused, realizing for the first time that he was in fact quite wet. Funny, he had not noticed in his concern for her. He shrugged. “I’m not cold.”
“You must be freezing,” she countered.
“We need to warm you up first.” He resumed his ministrations, shifting his attention to her blue-tinged legs. A curse erupted from his mouth as he tried to chafe color back into her cold flesh,
“Goddamn Havernautt.”
“It wasn’t his fault,” Meredith defended in a small voice. “I overturned the boat.”
Nick looked up, his hands stilling on her calves.
Meredith dropped her eyes and plucked at the ruffled edge of her dressing gown. “He was trying to kiss me. I leaned back and—”
“He tried to kiss you,” Nick echoed, feeling her words as thoroughly as a punch to the gut.
His impulse was instinctive, primal. Kill Havernautt.
And his thinking was just as irrational. No man touches what is mine.
Clearly, his one night with Meredith had left him greatly confused. He was reacting as if she meant something to him. As if he… Nick shook his head, reason asserting itself before he dared examine his feelings for her further. His objective was unchanged. Get rid of her.
He asked woodenly, “Does he still want to marry you?”
With a searching look of her own, she slowly answered, “My forbearance of his mother has raised me in his estimation. He all but proposed to me right there on the lake.” Her brow puckered in perplexity.
He battled an illogical spurt of jealousy. He had no right to feel possessive. She was doing what he told her. Finding a husband. Removing herself from his life.
He slid his hand from her leg and stood. She looked up at him with wide questioning eyes. The brown spattering of freckles stood out against the pallor of her face, and he fought down the impulse to trace a finger across the bridge of her slim nose.
“Good,” he said, a decisive ring of finality in his voice.
Just then the door opened and several servants entered bearing steaming buckets of water. Nick watched unseeingly as they dragged the tub from behind the screen and began to pour.
He faced her, murmuring with deceptive mildness, “Heed my advice. When you’re wed to Havernautt, steer clear of the lake. Next time I may not be around to save you.”
Turning on his heels, he strode out of her room, as far from her as he could get before he did or said something truly regrettable.
* * *
Nick waited in a wing-backed chair. Positioned in the corner of the room, it was safely shrouded in shadows. He wanted the opportunity to see her face the precise moment she entered the room. Before she had the chance to see him and wonder at his presence.
When she entered the room, his breath caught tight in his chest. Without sparing a glance for Havernautt at her side, he studied her over steepled fingers, a heavy sense of foreboding sinking him farther into the well-padded chair. He could not shake the ominous feeling. He knew the purpose behind this little meeting.
As if sensing his presence, she pulled up short. Her eyes searched the room’s dark paneled walls until they alighted on him tucked discreetly in his corner. His nostrils flared like a stallion scenting a mare. Was it his imagination? Or memory? But he thought he could smell her across the room. Waves of awareness vibrated between them. Her glittering gaze reached across the distance to him and flicked away, discounting him as if he were something to be scraped off the sole of her shoe. Essentially the same look she had bestowed upon him all week. Ever since he had saved her from drowning and deposited her in her bedroom.