Free When It's Perfect by Adele Ashworth Page A

had already started to drift with the outgoing tide.” He remembered the scene as if it were yesterday, Christine’s expression of shock when she realized she needed his help. That alone made him smile. “God, she was mad that I’d followed her.”
    Without uttering a word, Mary waited for him to continue, and at last he glanced back to her face.
    She studied him with bright, intelligent eyes of a striking blue that radiated an intense understanding and a desire to know. It made him shiver inside, an odd sensation, to be sure.
    “It was actually very funny,” he murmured.
    Her lips turned up slightly. “I can imagine.”
    Her voice was as low as his, suggesting an underlying intimacy in the moment, between just the two of them, that he hadn’t felt with anyone in a very long time. Without intention, Marcus reveled in it. He only wished he could reach out and caress her hand.
    “Aside from a few stars, the night was black, and it scared her,” he continued. “After a few minutes of listening to her panic and call for me, I stripped off my shirt and swam out to her.”
    Mary pulled a face, her mouth and eyes opening in shock, “in this

    water? At night?”
    He shrugged, smiling unabashedly. “It was cold.” Bloody freezing, actually, but of course he wouldn’t admit that aloud. “But Christine couldn’t swim and was wearing thick skirts. She also had no oar to use.
    We were both lucky that the sea was calm that night and that the fireworks started overhead to give us a little light to see by.”
    Mary shook her head slowly. “So, you did save her life by keeping her from drowning.”
    “No, I rescued her from her own stupidity by swimming out to her and pulling her boat to shore,” he corrected, then grinned. “I’m trying to be humble, Miss Marsh.”
    “Ah. Humble.”
    She watched him, her calculated gaze skimming his face, studying every feature, which Marcus suddenly found very gratifying.
    Finally, she said, “So, I suppose you punished her?”
    He shook his head almost imperceptibly. “No, I never said a word.
    Just dragged her back to her room with a strong arm.”
    Her brows popped up again. “No switch to her backside?”
    “Trust me, she was scared to death of it for nearly a week, which I felt was punishment enough. As it happens, I may have let a profane word or two escape me along the way. I was wet and cold and very angry, after all.”
    Mary laughed softly. “Rather reasonable, I should think.”
    He nodded once. “I’m always reasonable, Miss Marsh.”
    She tilted her head to one side. “And where was George in all of this?”
    “At the fireworks display, of course.”
    She laughed again at that, harder this time, the melodic sound of it coating his ears and senses like sweet honey.
    It unnerved him.
    “Did your mother know?” she asked, her tone colored with amusement, and a slight trace of mischief at being part of a greater conspiracy.
    He leaned forward. “Not in the least. That was Christine’s greatest fear. That I’d tell the Lady Gwyneth.”
    Her grin grew even wider, and the lamplight reflected off smooth white teeth. At that second, Marcus tensed his body to keep from reaching out and pressing his lips to hers.
    “So this is where you ran off to, Renn.”

    Marcus jerked his head back as they both turned sharply at the interruption.
    George stood in the doorway, his jacket and waistcoat removed, sleeves rolled up to mid-forearm, brandy in hand.
    “Awfully dark in here,” he added, walking toward a second lamp to the right of the settee.
    “We were admiring the starlight.”
    George stopped short. “Indeed.” He looked from one to the other, then as if drawing some conclusion, stood upright and took a short sip of his brandy. “Am I interrupting you?”
    “Not at all,” Mary jumped in quickly, lifting her skirts and moving away from the window. “I’d come in for a book, and your brother enlightened me on some… about some amusing family antics.”
    Some