He didn't understand why he couldn't stop this. Why he couldn't put her away from him, drag his britches up again, subdue his errant flesh, and walk away from her, back to the house. She'd broken the rules, he could legitimately refuse to be manipulated for another moment.

Instead, he stood looking down at her, lost in her eyes, his loins heavy with longing at the press of her smooth, bare belly against him. His hands moved to span her waist and her breasts trembled, her nipples rising hard against his chest.

Slowly, she sank down into the purple mattress, her hands sliding over his hips, down his thighs, as she slipped to her knees. She bent her head to take his aching stem into her mouth, teeth grazing lightly, tongue caressing in long, sweeping movements that brought a groan of joy to his lips. His fingers twisted in the silky cap of her hair; he gazed down at her bent head, the exposed nape of her neck, the sharp shoulder blades, the curve of her spine, the flare of her backside, the grass-stained soles of her feet, as she knelt to pleasure him.

He hauled himself back from the brink with a shuddering breath and came down on his knees beside her, cupping her face, taking her warm, busy mouth with his; the salty taste of his flesh was on her tongue, her skin was infused with the scents of her own arousal.

He pressed her back into the purple waves around her, and her body was pink and cream against the flower mattress. Her thighs parted for his own grazing exploration, and little murmuring cries of pleasure. bubbled from her, her fingers tangling in his hair, her hips lifting in ecstasy as his breath was hot and then cool on her petaled flesh and his tongue burned within her.

Smiling, his eyes hooded, molten with passion, he came up her body, drawing his tongue upward between her breasts, darting into the hollow of her throat, licking a little bead of sweat from her skin, his mouth once more fastening upon her lips as his hands moved beneath her to cup her buttocks, lifting her now to meet his surging entry into the silken sheath that tightened and closed around him, sending ripples of delight along his flesh so that he was moving in an exquisite world of sensation, bounded by the sweet flesh beneath him and around him.

He heard as if from a great distance her softly jubilant cries as she neared the pool of glorious extinction where she would lose herself, the shape of herself dissolved into the cool void of pure sensation. And with a supreme effort he clung to reality just long enough to withdraw from her body the instant he joined her, sinking into the ever-expanding space of eternal pleasure.

He came to himself with the sensation of the sun hot on his back. He was still clasping the small body tightly against him, and with a groan he rolled over, bringing her with him, so she lay beached on his length, her head drooping into the curve of his shoulder. She felt formless and weightless, her skin damply melding with his, and he was filled with a euphoria he'd never known before. None of his sexual adventuring had brought him this glorious satiation, this sense of fusion and peace.

Gently he patted her bottom, and Tamsyn raised her head with visible effort. “How did that happen… whatever it was?” She smiled dreamily, kissing the corner of his mouth.

“I don't know,” he said, kneading the curve of her backside. “You aren't real.”

Tamsyn chuckled weakly. “Oh, yes, I am, milord colonel. I'm flesh and blood to the very tips of my toes.” She pushed upward on his chest and sat astride his thighs. “And just to show you how real I am, I'm going to swim.”

“It's freezing,” he protested. “But, then, it's probably not as cold as the Guadiana in March.”

“Precisely.” She swung off him with an agility that belied her earlier dissolution. “Are you coming?”

“Maybe… in a minute.”

Tamsyn ran off and Julian remained on his back, one arm over his forehead shielding his eyes from the sun, facing facts. He'd succumbed again. And for as long as this brigand sprite was in his vicinity, he was going to continue to succumb-particularly if she continued this habit of stripping naked in. the most unlikely places and without so much as a word of warning. Maybe he should simply accept the pleasures of her body as just and well deserved recompense. She was using him, so he might as well exact a price. It was one she was more than willing to pay.

He stood up, watching as Tamsyn ran into the gently lapping surf on the small sandy beach. She didn't pause, simply plunged headlong into the waves that he knew must be frigid, coming up for air, then striking out with a strong overarm stroke across the cove, presumably testing the strength of the undercurrent.

She seemed as at home in the water as she was on horseback, but that was hardly surprising, given her rugged upbringing. He strode down to the cove and walked into the water, shivering as the cold water crept up his thighs. A wave curled toward him and he dived into it, the icy cold a cleansing knife along his sweat slick skin. When he broke the surface, he saw Tamsyn's sleek head to his right. She raised a hand and waved, then rolled onto her back, floating on the waves as they swelled beneath her.

The sun warmed the surface of her body, and the gentle rocking motion insinuated itself into her bodily currents, reminding her of the earlier moments of ecstasy. She barely noticed the cold water now; her eyes were closed and the sun was hot and growing hotter by the minute, creating a warm red glow behind her eyelids.

Julian swam strongly toward her, then trod water beside her. “Come in now, Tamsyn, it's colder than you think.”

She murmured assent but didn't immediately move.

He turned and swam in, running up the beach, shaking water off his skin, clapping his arms around his chest as he jumped on the sand, watching her. She had rolled over now and was stroking inward, using the waves to carry her to shore.

Yes, love play was certainly some compensation for the months of inaction lying ahead, Julian reflected, finding his britches and stepping into them. Not that inaction was precisely the right word for the task that lay ahead of him. He couldn't begin to imagine how local society was going to react to this extraordinary newcomer. She was bound to have to make some social forays before he'd managed to smooth her rough edges, and the prospect of Tamsyn drinking tea at the vicarage under the eagle eye of Mrs. Thornton made him shudder. Unfortunately, it also made him laugh. Of course, the sooner they could discover her Cornish antecedents, the clearer his path would be, but the fact remained that she couldn't be presented to her long-lost family until she was presentable.

He sighed. He had his work cut out for him, and his charge was going to have to cooperate. He didn't think she understood quite what a large mouthful she'd bitten off, but she was going to have to swallow it.

Tamsyn ran up the beach toward him, shivering but laughing. “Wonderful. I love swimming in salt water.” She grabbed up her shirt and used it to dry herself, rubbing herself vigorously, her teeth chattering, her lips blue, but her eyes shining.

Julian watched her, hands resting lightly on his hips.

His voice was deliberately cool and clipped, disguising the pleasure he was taking in the sight of her body and her uninhibited movements as she dried between her legs. “One thing you need to understand. If you wish to continue with this charade, this is the last time you'll behave in this fashion while you're under my roof. Do I make myself clear?”

“I'm not sure,” Tamsyn said thoughtfully, pulling on her britches. “What behavior are you talking about, exactly, milord colonel?” She shrugged into her now soaked shirt, shivering as the material clung to her skin.

“Wearing these clothes; swimming; or what we've just been doing amid the flowers?”