She held her hand over her heart. "I promise."

He sloshed his way back to her, muttering uncomplimentary words about females in general. "Put your arms around my neck."

She did so and he swept her up into his arms, nearly staggering under the combined weight of her and her sodden clothing. Cold water poured from her garments, sluicing down his body, while mud oozed from her boots. She nestled her face on his shoulder and his body tightened in reaction to the feel of her wet body snuggled against his chest. He bent his head and breathed in the flowery fragrance of her hair. Damn it, even covered in mud she still smelled like lilacs.

Once on the shore, he lowered her until her feet touched the ground her body slowly dragging along his. Her wet clothes clung to her, outlining her curvaceous shape, and he swallowed a groan. Her hardened nipples were clearly outlined against the damp material, and her legs appeared endless. God, she was incredible. Even slathered in mud, he wanted her.

His entire body pulsed to life, and when she tried to step back his hands tightened on her waist. God help him, he'd never wanted to kiss a woman more. Even as warning bells clanged in his head, he moved his mouth slowly toward hers. He had to taste her again… just one more time.

She slapped her palms against his chest. "What are you doing?"

"I was preparing to collect my payment."

"For what?"

"My ruined attire."

"By kissing me?"

"Of course. It's an old and noble custom here in England. One kiss for a muddy shirt and breeches. Did no one tell you?"

"I'm afraid it has not come up in conversation."

"Well, now that you know, you'd best pay up. Otherwise, it's debtors' prison for you."

She raised her brows. "One kiss?"

"I'd be happy to charge you two. In fact-"

"Oh, no," she said hastily. "One is fine."

"Well, since you insist…" He drew her closer, until her breasts brushed his chest, then covered her mouth with his own.

The instant their lips met, he was lost. Utterly and completely. Lost in the silky feel of her, the warm taste of her, the soft, flowery scent of her. Every rational thought slipped from his mind as his hands ran up her sides and cupped her full breasts. He teased her nipples into points and she gasped dropping her head limply back. He took immediate advantage, running his lips down the long slender column of her throat, each touch dragging him deeper and deeper into a heated haze where nothing existed but the woman in his arms.

"Austin…" she breathed. "Please. We must stop."

Expending an effort that nearly killed him, he lifted his head and gazed into her dazed desire-filled eyes. Lust smacked him so hard his knees nearly buckled. He wanted nothing more than to peel off her wet gown and make love to her. And if he didn't move away from her now, he might do just that.

He stepped back and immediately missed the feel of her pressed against him. Unable to resist the urge to touch her, he reached out, took her hands, and entwined their fingers.

Elizabeth pushed the hazy cobwebs from her mind. For the second time, this man had kissed her breathless. Mindless. Until nothing mattered but him.

But she'd had to stop. She'd allowed him more liberties than any decent woman would. But the effort had cost her. She'd wanted nothing more than to let him continue kissing her, touching her, igniting her skin, filling her senses with his heavenly taste and woodsy scent.

At that instant he squeezed her hands and his thoughts filled her mind with breathtaking clarity.

He wanted to make love to her.

Wanted to peel off her wet gown and touch her. Everywhere.

Making love. Love. Heat flooded her and her heart nearly jumped from her body. Is that what this feeling was? This bone-melting, can't-breathe, can't-stop-thinking-about-him, ever-want-his-kiss-to-end feeling? This overpowering need to help and protect him?

Dear God, was she falling in love with Austin?

Chapter 7


The trip back to the house was made in silence. Elizabeth rode on Myst in front of Austin, wrapped in his strong arms, his warm body surrounding her.