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gulls, wheeling and screeching overhead. She decided to paddle her feet in one of the streams; the water looked so cool and inviting. On impulse she pulled off her clothes, keeping on only her pants and bra. She giggled to herself, feeling deliciously abandoned, and stepped into the small pool. The iciness of the water struck her forcibly, tingling and refreshing her, and she splashed and sang, rejoicing in the splendid privacy. Then terror struck. Her foot slipped on the stones and suddenly she was vividly made aware of the danger of swimming in such a spot. One leg seemed to be jammed by a stone and a log hidden under the water. She struggled to free herself but seemed only to imprison her foot more.
    The cold was seeping into her bones and she became more frightened. Nothing had changed, yet the river no longer seemed innocent. She realised that she would have to see under the water in order to free herself. As she didn’t want to wet her bra she removed it, flinging it higher towards her jeans and blouse. She bent over double in the water and struggled to lift the heavy log. Time and time again she heaved, the exertion keeping her warm. When she realised it was no good she studied the stones which held her on the other side. She smiled grimly. What a nitwit she had been, she thought. They moved easily and with a lurch she was free. She scrambled out and lay exhausted and trembling, not feeling the rough shingle. The sun warmed her gently and she was just about to replace her clothes when she saw a tall muscular figure pick them up, and, self-conscious of her near-nudity, she crossed her arms over her breasts.
    'You look like a blue water baby. Here!’ Ian Burnleigh tossed her the jeans, blouse and bra.
    Frances sat stiffly, too frozen to move. He muttered an exclamation, stripped his shirt from his back and rubbed her dry The force of his hands warmed her chilled body and she shuddered. She pulled on her bra and blouse. He finished drying her legs and eyed her speculatively.
    ‘Now, water baby, don’t go playing in the river. It’s far too dangerous for big girls.’ His eyes glinted, mocking her.
    Frances nodded dumbly. Somehow she should thank him, but he strode away and she was able to finish changing. To herself she could admit that Ian was a far bigger danger to her than the river. She had been shocked at the effect his touch had produced on her body. She walked slowly back to her horse, reflecting that she had been stupid. Her face had lost some of its pallor, her hazel eyes were deep dark pools. Everything she had ever learnt about swimming in rivers she had ignored, simply because of the heat of the day. To be discovered almost naked had seared her and she felt wretchedly embarrassed at the thought of having to face that cocksure, arrogant male. She climbed into the saddle, mechanically easing herself into Greytor’s stride. Greytor carried her home effortlessly, and by the time she had released her she had regained some of her equilibrium. The sun had dried her hair so she slipped into her bedroom and repaired her make-up. She pulled on a cardigan as she still felt chilled, then squaring her shoulders she went out to the kitchen.
     

CHAPTER TWO
    ‘Come and meet the boys,’ said Jennifer gaily. ‘Thaddeus, age ten, my first born, Ivan the Terrible is seven and Greg the Gorgeous is five.’ The three sturdy boys eyes Frances solemnly, then Thad very correctly stepped forward and said, ‘How do you do?’
    Ivan the Terrible grinned cheekily and said, 'Gee, you’re real pretty.’
    Greg the Gorgeous just smiled. Frances smiled in return and the boys seeing the smile accepted her readily.
    ‘I’m big now. I go to school on the bus. See, this is my bag and this is my reading book,’ said Greg.
    Frances dutifully admired the bag and the book. The boys had just arrived home from school. They drank the cordial their mother had prepared for them and each had a piece of cake. For herself Frances had a cup of