calves. It was ridiculous to be aroused by a man’s legs, but she rather doubted most men had legs like his; so perfectly turned with a sculpted bulge of muscle and tanned, too, not a pasty white. It suggested extraordinarily good health. Here was a man who knew how to take care of himself, whose body was not padded and moulded into a false representation of its true physique. There was no artifice here.
No, absolutely none, she affirmed a moment later. Off came his jacket, just to reinforce the point. The thin linen of his shirt hugged the breadth of his shoulders and tapered into the waistband of his trousers, calling attention to the trim line of his hips.
‘Well? Stop dawdling, Annorah.’ Nicholas stepped into the river with his pole. ‘We don’t eat until we fish.’
Right, just as soon as I get my jaw shut. She was being ridiculous.
He tossed a fishing pole in her direction. ‘Unless you’re too scared?’
That did it. She’d been more than an able fisher in her day. Annorah set to her boots with a flurry of efficiency. Boots and stockings were off, the skirts of her dress hiked up with the help of a hair ribbon. ‘I can outfish a man about town like you any day of the week.’
Nicholas grinned. ‘Then get in here and do it.’
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