Sea Mistress by Candace McCarthy

done, he saw with satisfaction that she was starry-eyed and pink-lipped.
    That night, as he slipped through the garden maze and on through the dark woods, he worried for Bess’s safety. She most likely won’t be there. So why worry needlessly? Still, he hoped that she would, for the memory of her nearness made his heart hammer in his chest. His loins tightened as he recalled the sweet taste of her mouth.
    The pond rippled with the light cast by the night’s half moon. The air was fresh and fragrant with the scent of grass and wild flowers. A soft warm breeze caressed Seth’s face as he neared the spot where he and Bess had been earlier.
    He stopped and glanced about, disappointed when there was no sign of the young lady. And although he wasn’t surprised that she hadn’t come, he was angry, too, for he’d wanted so very much to see her.
    The water beckoned with its pattern of glistening ripples. Hot and aroused just thinking of Bess, Seth removed his shirt, and then lowered his hands to his trousers. He might as well swim and cool off, if nothing else. The last thing he wanted to do right then was go back to his bed and fantasize about Bess Metcalfe.
    The pond was cool and refreshing as he waded in, naked, and dived below the surface of the shimmering water. The water stroked him like a woman’s hands. Like Bess’s hands, he thought.
    He came up for a breath of air, flinging his wet hair back from his face, wiping the droplets of moisture from his eyes. And then he dove down again to swim with vigorous, energy-consuming strokes that would wipe out all thoughts of the flaxen-haired beauty who had fired him into such a state. He swam until his arm and leg muscles cried out with the strain. When Seth finally stopped, he was breathing hard. He waded toward the shore, his wet nude body gleaming in the moonlight, his gaze probing the area where he was sure he’d left his clothes.
    â€œAre you looking for this?”
    He froze, and then smiled a slow, even smile. “You came. I thought you’d changed your mind.” He was glad he was submerged up to his waist, for seeing Bess Metcalfe had renewed his energy . . . and his desire for her.
    She stood a few feet from the shoreline, his shirt held aloft in her right hand, a fishing pole in the other hand.
    Bess stared at the garment she held, and then met his gaze boldly. “Swimming?” she asked. “Or trying to catch fish?”
    Fishing pole? Did she actually think we were to meet to go fishing? Seth wondered. Then he relaxed as he recalled her kisses, the polite way she’d asked for one last kiss before they’d left the area of the pond. “I think . . . I don’t mind if you see,” she’d said.
    â€œShall I come out, or will you join me?” Seth asked, watching her closely. He could see her expression, for she faced the moon, which lit up her lovely features and gave her a radiance that made her appear ethereal.
    â€œOh, please come out.” She dropped the fishing pole. “The water looks cold, and I’m sure there is an easier way to catch fish.”
    Seth stiffened. Until he saw her mouth quiver and realized that she knew why they’d come, but was afraid.
    He glided through the water toward the shore, observing her reaction as the depth of the pond lowered and more of him was exposed. Bess’s eyes widened. “Why, you’ve no clothes on at all!”
    He grinned, a flash of white teeth. “I didn’t think you’d notice.”
    â€œBut where are your tr—clothes?” she gasped.
    â€œYou’re holding my shirt,” he drawled, his voice vibrating with husky resonance. “My trousers are there on the ground somewhere.”
    His look during the long pause that followed suggested that she had found his pants, too, but had chosen to keep them hidden from him.
    â€œI’ve done no such thing!” She backed away, her gaze full of panic, as