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and made a place for her in between them next to the water.
    "Get into my shadow," he instructed her. "If the shadow doesn't change, the fish will have nothing to fear."
    She felt Cleav's hand at her shoulder, gently coaxing her into the correct position, directly in front of him, as he squatted on the grass. She felt the warmth of him surrounding her as she sat so close to him; his knee was near her now blushing cheek.
    Feeling the closeness of her back to his chest, she glanced down at the shadow on the water. She was invisible. Her form had been totally absorbed in his. As the thought crossed her mind, she felt an unusual fluttering in her abdomen. As far as the trout were concerned, Esme Crabb was now a part of Cleavis Rhy. It gave her a dizzying feeling.
    "Just take a handful of food," he coached. "They've really had enough, but we'll give them an extra treat today in honor of accepting you."
    With his warm smile of encouragement, Esme only made a slight face as she dipped her hand in the bucket. Leaning forward, she felt him right behind her.
    "Put your hand just a couple of inches under the water," he told her, "and open it up about halfway."
    Esme followed his instructions exactly. She shivered slightly as her hand descended into the cold mountain pool. Stiffening herself against the chill of the water, she tried to tamp down an inexplicable trickle of fear. But she failed, however, to control the sudden jerk of her shoulders when the first big brown
brooder greedily
grabbed a bite.
    "Easy," Cleav cautioned as he laid his hands familiarly on her shoulders. "They won't bite your fingers off," he whispered close to her neck."You've got to trust them, just the way you want them to trust you."
    Feeling the warmth of his hands as they soothed her, Esme felt herself begin to relax. The big fish pushed each other aside and tickled her fingers with their fins as they vied for their share.
    "Come on, Pearly," she coaxed the mole-faced fish. "My hand's not as big as Cleav's, but the food tastes just the same."
    Cleav's breathy chuckle raised the hairs on her neck.
    "Oh, it's wonderful," Esme whispered, her heart pounding from more than the exhilaration of fish feeding.
    Cleav agreed, however neither his thoughts nor his senses were focused on the fish. At Esme's startled quiver, his palms had so naturally found their way to her shoulders to reassure and comfort. Now his hand sought only to caress.
    Her firm, square shoulders felt unerringly feminine under his fingers. With a pretense of carelessness, he moved his thumb toward her
collar. He felt a warm stab of desire
.
    Stop it! he ordered himself angrily. The woman had asked to feed the fish, not be fondled by the fish handler.
    "Look at this big one!" Esme's quiet whisper bubbled with excitement.
    Cleav leaned forward to follow her gaze. His chest eased up against the back of the worn wool of her coat. His chin was so close to her neck, he could have counted the tiny trickles of errant curls that had escaped the thick blond braid. He took a much needed breath, only to be assailed by the sweet scent of her. Plain brown soap and woman; it was a combination he'd never fully appreciated before.
    Quite naturally his hands slid down to her waist—only to steady her, he swore to himself. He couldn't allow the young woman to fall into the water. That the water was no more than three feet deep and that she was seated firmly on the shoreline were facts he didn't bother to consider.
    Her waist was not the tiny handspan that was still the rage of fashion, nor was it bound with the usual corsets that both disguised and protected it from men. Cleavis could feel the gentle give of real flesh. And it lay beneath his hands, thinly separated by her coat, dress, and chemise. His fingers tingled with the wish to dispose of those few garments. He knew he should take his hands from her person, but she felt too good.
    Her charges fed and her palm empty, Esme took her hand out of the cold water. The