She found herself half wishing he couldn't see her like this, plain and in the sunlight. She liked her body, but would he? Would he notice that her legs were a trifle too slim? Or that her stomach wasn't as round as it should be?
Now he was leading the way down the incline toward the lagoon. The white sand was a warm, textured cushion against their bare feet as they waded into the placid waters. Around the island, on the windward side, the waves crashed against the shore, but here the lagoon remained serene. As she noticed the brisk wind against her skin, she suddenly didn't care what he thought. She felt like the most beautiful woman alive.
When she was younger, she could ride and shoot as well as any lad on the island; then one day she awoke to find herself cloaked in a prison of curves and bulges, with a litany in her ears about all the things she wasn't supposed to be seen doing anymore. It infuriated her. Why did men have things so much easier?
Like Winston. He moved the same way he handled his flintlock pistols, with a thoughtless poise. As he walked now, his shoulders were slightly forward and his broad back seemed to balance his stride. But, even more, she loved the hard rhythm of his haunches, trim and rippled with muscles. She stopped to watch as he splashed into the shallows.
God forgive me, she thought, how I do adore him. What I'd most like right now is just to enfold him, to capture him in my arms. And never let . . .
Good God, what am I saying?
The water was deliciously cool, and it deepened quickly. Before she knew, she felt the rhythm of the waves against her thighs.
"Katy, the time has come." He turned back and admired her for a second, then thumped a spray of water across her breasts. "Let's see if you really can swim." Abruptly he leaned forward, dipped one shoulder, and stroked powerfully. The curves of his body blended with the ripples as he effortlessly glided across the surface. A startled triggerfish darted past, orange in the sun. He stroked again, then yelled over his shoulder, "I'm still not sure I can always believe everything you say."
"Nor I you, Hugh. Though truly you say little enough." She leaned into the water, fresh and clean against her face. She gave a kick and another stroke and she was beside him. The sea around them seemed a world apart from the bondage of convention. He was right for wanting to swim. "So today, to repay me for showing you this spot, I want you to tell me everything, all the things you've been holding back."
"Unlike you, who's held nothing back? Like this island and what it means to you?"