“I am not certain.”
Sarah smiled up at him. “Well, giggling is much better than quarreling, isn’t it?”
Offering his arm, he agreed. “I believe so.”
They walked out of the house, where two horses were waiting for them. Christopher lifted Sarah into the sidesaddle, and the groom handed her the reins. He swung up onto his own new mount and touched his hat to signal his thanks to the groom and for the man to let go. Sarah urged her horse into a canter, and they rode together for a couple of miles before she called to him to turn to the east. Christopher heard the sound of the river before he saw it. The forested area was quite dense with trees and debris. Sarah led them through a dirt path that looked well-traveled, to an area of the stream that appeared deeper and wider than the rest.
She slid off her horse and glanced over her shoulder to look at him. “Ralph and I used to say that this was where bears took their baths. Happily, we never met one here.”
“At least they would be clean bears.”
Sarah threw back her head and laughed merrily at his small joke.
He alighted from his horse and took both pairs of reins. He led the horses to the river to get a drink before he tied them to a tree. By the time he turned around, Sarah was already undressed—or, rather, ready in her bathing gown. It was a loose, smock-like gown that resembled a chemise. There was a tie at the throat, and the hemline barely covered her knees. Her calves were shapely underneath it. His pulse quickened, and he forced himself to stop staring at her legs. He didn’t want her to find him vulgar or unseemly.
Christopher shucked off his coat, which was now a great deal tighter after Sarah’s and the tailor’s adjustments. He also removed his waistcoat, cravat, and bespoke shirt. He kept his breeches on. Mr. Harris had said that this particular pair would dry quickly after their swim.
Sitting down on a rock, he yanked off his boots and stockings. Christopher saw that Sarah had hung her dress and riding habit on the branch of a tree. Her boots and stockings were stowed tidily underneath them. He put his shoes near hers and picked up his discarded clothing and made a pile of them on the rock.
He heard a splash. Sarah had jumped into the water, and she was wading in farther. He watched until the river reached all the way to her shoulders.
She lifted a hand and beckoned him to come join her.
Christopher usually only swam after spending hours in the heat and sun. The cold rivers had always felt refreshing. Today it did not. One step in and the water was freezing. Gooseflesh formed on his arms, and the hairs on the back of his neck stood up. He wrapped his arms around himself for warmth. He had no wish to go any farther into this river.
“It’s colder if you aren’t fully submerged,” Sarah called, beckoning him again with one hand. “Run in as quickly as you can, and then you won’t feel so cold.”
Rubbing the bumps on his arms, he was not entirely certain he believed her. But, on the other hand, he didn’t wish to disappoint Sarah. Closing his eyes, Christopher ran and splashed until the water passed his hips and then rose all the way to his shoulders. He shivered underneath the water.
Sarah put her hand on his shoulder, and warmth emanated from her touch. “Isn’t it refreshing?”
“That’s not quite the word I would use.”
She let out a gurgle of laughter that warmed his frozen heart, and then she grabbed his arm, tugging him deeper into the pool so that he had to tread water to keep his head above the river. Sarah floated next to him, a smile on her face, and then she splashed him. Christopher couldn’t resist splashing her back. She dove beneath the water and pulled on his knees, bringing his face into the cold river.
Resurfacing with a sputter, Christopher dove for his wife. Sarah dodged his grasp and splashed him with a laugh. Never one to give up easily, he chased his wife as she swam away from him. After several circles and splashes, Christopher finally grasped Sarah by her shoulders.
“Now that you’ve caught me, are you going to dunk me?” she asked, grinning.
He shook his head. “No, I am going to kiss you.”
Christopher released his hold on her arms, allowing her to leave or refuse his kiss if she wished to. He closed his eyes and leaned in, waiting for his wife to make the contact between them. He felt her cold arms around his neck, and he thought for a moment that she was going to dunk him again, but then her lips, cold and silky, brushed against his. Over and over. Each time his mouth grew a little warmer, and so did the rest of hisbody, despite being in a cold river. He wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her closer to him. Sarah opened her lips slightly, and Christopher deepened the kiss. She tasted sweet and cold, but she warmed him to the very core.
Breaking the kiss, his lips moved to her cheek and made a trail to her chin, and then he nuzzled her underneath the delicate skin of her ear.
Sarah giggled breathlessly. “Your beard tickles.”
He stilled. “Do you not like it?”
“Your kisses or your beard?” she asked with another laugh. “I confess that I like them both.”
His wife demonstrated how much she liked them by fastening her lips upon his once more. Never before had Christopher felt such a tidal wave of feelings. Deb had been right: He loved his wife. And he even dared to hope that she cared for him too.
Sarah gave him one more heart-stopping kiss before splashing him and swimming away. They splashed, swam, and frolicked for nearly an hour before they made their way to the shore and found a sunny spot in the forest to stretch out and dry themselves and their bathing clothes. Sarah lay down on her back, one arm casually flung across her brow, blocking the sun. Christopher was on his side, perched on his elbow so that he could see her.
“We shall have to bring your sisters. You and I can teach them how to swim,” she said.
He nodded slowly. Christopher was glad she wished to include them, but it was very nice to have Sarah all to himself today. Especially when she seemed so approachable. Her hair was wet and messy. Her bathing gown was modest but by no means fashionable. She looked as if she could have been a country girl. The sort of woman that a canal man would court and kiss and marry.