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take you seriously, and our age difference aside, sir, the fact remains that Mary and I are better off alone. In all my life, I've never been happier than I am now…and I don't mean to change my circumstances."
    Without a word, he trailed one finger alongside her face, and her cheeks heated even as she tightened her jaw.
    And her resolve. "No matter what my body tells me, my head knows what's best."
    He held her hands between his. "You speak of your body and your head. But what does your heart tell you, Clarice?"
    Birds twittered in the background while she searched his face, a face smooth and unlined, unmarred by the countless frowns and endless anger that had so characterized the only man she had lived with as a wife.
    He'd asked what her heart told her, but she didn't trust it now. "My heart is not at issue here. I—I cannot marry you, Cameron. You're…you're a baronet, for God's sake!" She struggled until he let loose her hands. "I cannot marry a baronet."
    A new protest. Cameron wondered if it was progress or a step back. "Whyever not? You sound like the little sister."
    "Who?"
    "The little sister, from the story of Nippit Fit and Clippit Fit. She knew her feet were small enough they might fit the shoe, but she couldn't imagine herself as the wife of a prince. Do you remember? She thought people would make fun of her and say she wasn't fit to be a princess."
    Clarice remained mute.
    "Don't sell yourself short, love. You're fit to be a queen. It's sorry I am that I can only make you a mere Lady."
    The boat rocked violently when she stood. "This is not a fairytale, and I'm not the little sister. These big feet won't fit into any glass shoes. I'm tall, not dainty. Too tall—"
    "You're not too tall for me ." He stood as well, to demonstrate, and the boat swung even more. She swayed wildly. Alarmed, he grabbed for her, but she leapt away.
    And flailed backward, headfirst into the river.

CHAPTER SIX
     
    Cameron dove in after Clarice, clasping her close when she came up sputtering.
    "Lud!" She laughed, a sound of pure delight that shocked him out of his wits. He'd expected her to be furious. "You're turning my life upside down, Cameron Leslie. Literally."
    The water was frigid, and her teeth were already chattering, her lips turning a decided shade of blue. There was only one thing to do.
    Kiss the warmth right back into them.
    He dragged her against himself, treading water while he pressed his mouth to hers. He was shocked a second time when she cooperated fully. Her arms wrapped around his shoulders, her legs around his waist. He was certain he'd never felt anything as glorious as this willowy, wet woman fused to him, her every curve melding against his body as though they'd been made for each other.
    They kissed long and deep, until he realized they were slowly drifting downstream—and the boat was drifting faster. "Hell."
    "Wh-what?" Her voice sounded drugged and dreamy.
    With a heartfelt groan, he kissed her again, thrilling when her tongue entered his mouth of her own volition.
    He could kiss her forever, except he had a feeling it would swiftly lead to other things. Not to mention they would soon be down the river without a boat. He wouldn't mind walking back, but he would mind paying for a rickety boat he wouldn't even hold in his possession. Leslie Castle was bonnie, but the estate itself was cash poor.
    "Hell," he repeated, pulling back.
    "What is it, Cam?"
    Cam. He had to reward her for that with another kiss.
    "Hell," he said again a couple of minutes later.
    "Do you always curse so much?"
    "Only when my boat is floating away."
    "Lud!" She looked around wildly. And then, "I cannot swim!"
    She hung on to his back as he struck out for the boat. Not too long afterward, he hauled himself aboard and pulled her in after him. She sprawled on the bench, laughing. Until she looked down at her wet gown plastered against her front.
    With a gasp, she crossed her arms over full, round breasts with rosy peaks that had shown