character in view, while at the same time taking care to avoid being detected. Slowly now, he wove amongst the dense foliage. It was darker deep in the woods, growing more so as the sun’s rays began to fade.
Overhead, the sky rumbled an ominous growl, and Sebastian felt the first of several warm drops splat on his head and hands. Urging his mount forward, he peered through the branches and was instantly rewarded with a view that stole his breath away.
This was no boy, standing on an outcropping of rock, hastily shedding his clothes.
No.
This was a young woman!
Casually grazing, her horse was tethered to a tree near the water’s edge, about a dozen or so feet beneath the spot where she stood silhouetted against a fiery backdrop of fir trees. Lit from behind as she was by the sun, dusty rays fanned out in a long star pattern as she moved, giving her an almost wraithlike appearance.
Unable to tear his eyes away, he watched as she snatched open her buttons and pulled her blouse free of her jeans. Next, she yanked down the zipper of her pants and eased them over her slender hips. An impatient kick sent them into a haphazard pile with her blouse to the shore below.
Clad in only a pair of lacy wisps that left little to the imagination, she stood and surveyed the way the setting sun shimmered like gold coins bobbing on the surface of the gently lapping waves.
Sebastian’s breathing grew shallow. Who was this woman? She was no stable hand, this he knew, as females were never hired in such a capacity in this particular kingdom.
Her body was long and lithesome, yet curvy in all the right spots. Her thighs and calves were shapely, well muscled obviously from years spent riding, and her shoulder-length hair was wild, glowing gold with the slanting light of the setting sun.
Sebastian’s mouth went dry. He knew he probably had no business standing there, staring at her this way, when she thought she was by herself, but on the other hand, she had no business being out here alone. It wasn’t safe. Anything could happen to a young woman out swimming after dark.
Deciding to stay put, just in case she needed him for whatever reason, he watched as she moved to the edge of the outcropping of rock and surveyed the black water below. As if in slow motion, she balanced on her toes, crouched low, and then using the rock as a springboard, arched out over the water and executed a perfect, nearly splashless, dive.
Sebastian felt as if he’d swallowed a golf ball whole as he watched her disappear from view. When the water’s ripples had calmed, his guts began to churn. Where the devil was she? She should have been up already.
He stood in his stirrups and craned in her direction, mentally preparing to go in after her. He waited another three or four seconds.
That did it.
She was in trouble. Likely hit a rock, or maybe she was caught by the hair on some branch beneath the surface of the water.
Throwing a leg over his saddle, he dismounted and hit the ground running in one fluid move. Just as he reached the edge of the pond, she burst forth from the water’s surface, like a phoenix rising, her giddy laughter ringing out as she whipped her bra and panties in a circle over her head and flung them onto the beach.
Sebastian could only stand there and stare. His heart was beating ninety miles an hour and the battle he waged was whether to paddle this brat for scaring him so, or to kiss her because she was alive.
And beautiful.
In his life, the plastic, well-bred beauties that vied for his attention had jaded Sebastian. Aristocratic women could be so dull. Vain. In search of a trophy to call husband.
But this woman was different, he could tell. Her complete lack of affectation captivated him, and he found himself wanting to know more. Was she a commoner? If so, who was her father? What did he do?
Then reality struck.
Could she be taken? She certainly did not act the staid, married matron. Her body and her carefree personality betrayed her youth and he judged her to be no more than twenty. Twenty-two at the most.
A perfect complement to his twenty-seven.
Watching her, he felt his world-weary cares begin to seep away. There was something mysterious about this mermaid. She inspired ridiculous thoughts. Flights of fancy he’d given up entertaining long ago. Thoughts of the magic of finding one’s true love.
His heart began to pound and his blood rushed powerfully through his body. He flexed his hands, and watched her move to stand waist-deep at the opposite shore, her back toward him, wet hair tickling her shoulder blades. Hands cupped, she used them as a scoop to douse stray tendrils away from her face.
Then, as if she suddenly sensed that she wasn’t alone, the woman slowly turned to face him, her arms snaking across her bare breasts just before she sank to her shoulders in the water.
“Who is there?” she demanded.
Sebastian stepped forward and their eyes locked for an infinite, supercharged moment before he spoke.
“Perhaps I should be asking you the same question, woman. This is the private property of His Royal Highness, King Philippe. You are breaking the law by stealing one of his horses and swimming in his pond after dark.”
The woman did not seem daunted, and instead smiled. “I’m not afraid of him.”
“Then perhaps you’d consider being afraid of me.”
“And who, pray tell, are you?”
“I am Sebastian LeMarc, a friend of the royal family and, when I have to be, the nude-beach police. Who are you?”
She tossed back her head and sent throaty laughter into the twilight. “You know, Sebastian LeMarc, you should probably join me. To cool that hot head of yours.”
Sebastian stared at this cheeky sprite. Who the devil did she think she was? “If I have to, I’ll come in there after you.”
“Suit yourself. Or not. This is a suit-optional pool.” She giggled, tickled with herself, and Sebastian couldn’t help but smile as she dove beneath the water’s surface, sending a spray of drops into the air.
What was he going to do with this woman? Dragging a slippery porpoise, one that had no intention of being caught no less, out of the water would be a challenge indeed.
She surfaced, this time nearer the waterfall and beckoned to him. “Come on in. The water’s fine.”
“Didn’t your parents ever tell you not to play naked with strangers?”
She laughed. “Yes. But you are not a stranger.”
“You know my name only.”
“I know that my father trusts you.”
“And who would your father be?”
“You really don’t know?”
“If I did, would I have to ask?”
“I am the third daughter of Philippe de Bergeron,
