Harlequin Historical November 2015, Box Set 2 of 2 by Lynna Banning Page B

change into Cissy’s bathing costume behind that shrub.” She stepped over to a large huckleberry bush.
    Zane shucked his trousers, sprinted to the water and dove in. Out of courtesy to Winifred he stayed facing away from her until he heard a soft splash behind him. When he turned he caught his breath.
    She stood poised at the river’s edge, swishing the toes of one foot in the water, and good God almighty, she filled every inch of Celeste’s bathing garment. He turned away and swam to the far end of the pool, then stroked to the opposite end.
    Before he reached it, he heard a yelp and a loud splash. When he looked back she was chest-deep in the river.
    â€œHow does one swim?” she called.
    â€œJust put your arms out and bend forward and then shove off from the bottom.”
    To his surprise she did exactly as he said. Her head disappeared underwater, broke the surface, then sank once more. Just as he started to stroke toward her, she reemerged, her arms flailing, water spewing out of her mouth.
    But she didn’t call for help. Instead, she thrashed forward, trying to keep her head above water.
    â€œKick your legs,” he yelled.
    Suddenly she was ploughing through the water, her arms making sloppy waving motions, her eyes scrunched tightly closed.
    â€œWinifred,” he shouted. “Open your eyes.”
    â€œCan’t,” she called. “I’ll drown.”
    That made him laugh out loud. She’d come this far; he’d let her discover the rest for herself.
    He stroked to the far end of the pool and back again, then methodically swam ten or twelve additional lengths. When he pulled himself onto the sandy bank he was breathing hard.
    Winifred was clumsily propelling herself in a ragged circle, but she had opened her eyes. Zane lay back on the warm sand and laid his arm over his face. He didn’t want to watch her come out of the river. She’d be wet, and the too-small swimming suit would hide nothing. He couldn’t help smiling at the picture he imagined, but he wouldn’t embarrass her by actually looking.
    He’d seen hundreds, maybe thousands, of women’s bodies; but this woman was different. For one thing, she was his wife’s sister.
    But God, how he wanted to see her!
    After half an hour she splashed out of the water with a triumphant cry. “I did it! I can swim!”
    Zane kept his eyes closed.
    â€œDid you see me? I was really swimming, wasn’t I?”
    â€œYou were really swimming, Winifred. Congratulations.”
    Droplets of cool water hit his chest and still he didn’t open his eyes. “Better get out of that wet suit,” he ordered.
    He prayed she would do just that. The temptation to open his eyes was overpowering.
    He managed another sixty seconds, then caught a fleeting glimpse of her as she ducked behind the huckleberry bush. He groaned, got to his feet and dove into the water again for twelve more laps. When he emerged, Winifred sat on the bank, the skirt of her blue dimity dress hiked up to her calves, her bare toes digging into the sand. She looked like a happy child.
    A lump as big as an orange lodged in his throat. He had never seen Celeste look that young and unguarded. Never.
    He propelled himself out of the river and strode past her to yank on his trousers and shirt. He was still short of breath, but this time he knew it had nothing to do with swimming laps.
    On the drive back to town, Winifred chattered on about teaching herself to swim, about the chickadees, about gathering the mint, about everything. Zane held onto the traces so tight his knuckles ached but said nothing. His breath came in short gusts, his brain swirled with a thousand thoughts. Outrageous thoughts.
    His wife’s sister. He was attracted to his sister-in-law!
    When they reached the house, he tossed the reins to Sam and bolted for his office and the brandy decanter.
    * * *
    After supper that night, Zane went outside to rock in the