The Counterfeit Gentleman Read Free

the fear out of her voice. She was no cow ard, this one, and in spirit, although not in looks, she re minded him of his half-sister, Cassie.
    “I was born with a natural sense of direction, and the tide is with us, so we have nothing to worry about,” he said without adding that if the tide turned before they were safely on shore, even he might not be a strong enough swimmer to save them.
    But he had no intention of saying anything that would shatter the girl’s self-composure, which he suspected was hard won. “We will make better progress if you could dispense with your petticoats.”
    If she had been a girl from the village, he would have bid her take off her skirt also, but such a demand would not do for a lady, especially when their situation was not yet dire.
    “I shall do my best to untie them,” she said, and while she struggled to undo the knots, he did his best to keep both their heads above the water.
    Finally, she gave up her efforts. Once more wrapping her arms around his neck, she whispered, “I am afraid the saltwater has made the knots too tight.”
    “Then I shall have to cut them,” Digory murmured, sliding his hands up under her skirt.
    She gasped and stiffened in his arms, but she neither jerked away nor cried out.
    Moments later she was free of most of the sodden fabric, and pulling her around behind him, Digory showed her how to hang onto his shoulders so that he could have both his arms and legs free. Then keeping his head above water, he began an easy sort of breaststroke. It was slow, but he could maintain it for hours without tiring.
    The girl was silent at first, and then she whispered, “There is something over there in the fog—to our left and a bit ahead of us.”
    Digory’s crew had frequently told him he had the luck of the devil, and apparently they spoke the truth, for his boat was bobbing peacefully about fifteen feet away.
    Changing direction, he moved to intercept it. “If you can hang on to the gunwales while I get in, then I can help you climb in.”
    A few minutes later they were safely on board, and Dig ory unshipped the oars and began to row with a steady rhythm toward Carwithian Cove, the only place he could be sure the kidnappers would not go to—at least not until the next day.
    His thoughts were less easy to control, and when he looked at his passenger, his pulse began pounding in his ears.
    Her arms were covered with gooseflesh, and her lips were quite blue, and she should not have been in the least bit appealing. Perhaps it was because her wet garments dis guised none of the feminine curves of her body and legs, or because he had just been in intimate contact with her that he felt an unexpected surge of desire.
    Even knowing she was too far above his station for him to have such thoughts did not prevent him from wanting to take her in his arms and warm her in the way men have warmed women down through the centuries.
    If only the circumstances had been different—if only she were a village girl and not a wellborn heiress—he would have cheerfully stolen a few moments of pleasure.
    “I have always disapproved of ladies who dampened their dresses,” Miss Pepperell said, beginning to shiver violently. “Now I am even more inclined to think them fools, for in truth I am finding it most uncomfortable.”
    He could tell the very moment when she realized how her remark had served merely to direct his attention to her womanly curves, because hot color rose swiftly to her cheeks, and she immediately lowered her eyes.
    “My jacket is folded up there behind you—feel free to make use of it,” he said.
    Of course it was possible that it was not her own words, but rather the carnal desire she had seen in his eyes that had shattered her composure.
    Once she was adequately clothed, she regained her poise, which only made his own wayward thoughts seem more despicable in comparison.
    Looking up, she met his eyes squarely and said calmly, “I am afraid that I do not know the