Ashlyn Macnamara Read Online Free Page B

his balance and knocked her aside. In another breath, he righted himself. “As soon as we’re on shore, I’d be happy to.”
    On closer view, she was older than she first appeared. Her face gave the illusion of a younger woman—drawn on delicate lines to a pointed chin, it appeared almost fairy-like.
    He shook his head. Imagine, such a fanciful idea, especially now that her brows had lowered to a full-on glare that emphasized a twin set of lines above her nose. They were etched deeply enough to put her beyond the age of a schoolroom miss. Her soaked bodice accentuated curves more generous than he’d first thought. Lovely, firm, round curves.
    In spite of the danger, she reached again. The tips of her fingers trembled, and she held her lips in a firm line, as if to suppress an echoing vibration there. Hitching the boy higher against his chest, he fought his way free of the waves. She splashed behind him, and wrenched the child from his grasp.
    She pulled him to her bosom, her eyes closing, and she drew in a long, shuddering breath. Her hands tightened, until the boy let out a whimper and wriggled in her grasp. He fought his way free and slid to the ground.
    “Jack!” she said rather sharply.
    “There’s no call to shout at the boy.” George sat down hard on the beach and gasped for breath. Water slogged inside his Hessians, and a nasty bite of breeze sank its teeth into his sodden garments, chewing through to the skin. Even the spot on his chest where Jack had clung to him had grown cold. “He’s had a fright. Give him a chance to recover.”
    “Jack, we need to go home. Now.”
    I SABELLE drummed her fingers against her thigh to mask their trembling. So close. She’d come so close to losing him.
    “Come, Jack,” she tried again, but her tone refused to soften.
    It was that blasted man, that stranger. He’d surged out of nowhere to splash into the water and save Jack when her fear took hold. She ought to be grateful; she ought to thank him, but annoyance at having her privacy invaded twined with the old wariness. It kept her blood pumping hard, long after it ought to have subsided.
    If only Jack would let her hold him for a moment or an hour, but he’d turned his attention back to the man, staring at him as if he thought to keep him. Obstinate child.
    With a sigh, she marched over and held out a hand. “I apologize for the inconvenience, sir. I prefer not to carry it any further.”
    “It’s no trouble at all.” The man shifted his weight, leaning back on his elbows. His waterlogged topcoat plastered itself against his chest. His very broad chest topped by wide shoulders.
    Isabelle cast her eyes downward, but that wasn’t much safer. The surf had wet his trousers until they clung to his thighs. She wrapped her arms about her waist to hold off a bout of shivering. She had no business looking over a man’s body. Most especially, she had no business noting his long, tapering fingers or the roguish lock of hair that flopped over his forehead. Its color matched the tan of the damp pebbles that lined the shore. No matter his face was battered, one eye puffy and swollen.
    Even worse, he was looking right back, his gaze traveling down the lines of her body in frank appraisal. Doubtless her soaked dress left little to the imagination; it clung to her form the same as his garments. His glance came to rest on her feet. She curled her toes against the pebbles.
    Her bare toes. Oh, how could she have forgotten herself to such an extent? Her shoes and stockings lay discarded up the beach where she’d left them in a fit of girlishness. For a few brief moments, she’d wanted to run along the shore as carefree as Jack. For those moments, she’d wished to relive her innocent days.
    When would she learn she could never go back?
    At last, Jack tore his attention away from the stranger. He turned his face toward her—and grinned. The very devil lit that smile.
    “You little scamp,” she murmured.
    His grin broadened,