He screamed, his face screwing up in agony, and his right hand flew to his bruised left shoulder, his misshapen shoulder, and the scream became a moan of pain that stopped as he fell sideways. The current snatched at him. His head thrashed from side to side in torment.

“Toby!”

The stream was carrying him, his teeth clenched uselessly against the sob of pure pain. He scrabbled for a foothold.

Campion forgot her fear, forgot her nakedness. She rose in the water, pushed toward him, reached for him. “Toby!”

His head thrashed. A gloved hand came out of the stream and she snatched for it, missed, but then she caught his right arm and his weight swung him away from her. She cried out as the arm slipped from her and she threw herself forward, desperate now, trying to haul his body upright, and suddenly she was aware that he was holding her, that his feet were firm on the stream’s gravel, that his right hand was in the small of her back, pressing her close. Green eyes looked down at her.

“Toby!”

“Shh.”

“You cheated.” She did not know whether to laugh, but suddenly she was shivering for her body was against his and she felt his right hand stroking, stroking, and his touch was as gentle as if she was a silver fish hiding in dark reeds. “Toby?”

His gloved left hand lifted her face and she kissed him, her eyes closed because she did not know where to look, and she put her arms about his bare waist, then hid her face on his shoulder. The fear was still there, but he seemed to be protecting her from it, and she could feel an excitement too. She clung to him, knowing that this was what she had dreamed of in Werlatton in those hopeless nights when love was a vain hope beyond her reach. “Toby?”

“Shh.” He carried her from the water, lay her on the grass and she dared not speak nor open her eyes. She waited for the pain, even wanting it, and her hands stroked the muscles on his back as he loved her, riding over her pain, and when it was done he took her to the water again, washed her, and only then did she look at him. She was shy.

He smiled. “Was it so horrible?”

She shook her head. She crouched low in the water. “I’m sorry.”

“What for?”

“Being stupid.”

“You weren’t.”

She looked at him. “You cheated.”

“I know.”

She laughed, then asked the embarrassing question that was important to her. “Was it good for you?”

“I’m supposed to ask you that.”

“No, I mean it. Was it?”

He smiled at her. “Never better.”

“Better than all those May Days?”

“Better than I ever dreamed possible.”

She laughed, blushing with embarrassment. “You’re sure?”

“There’s only one way you’ll find out.”

“How?”

“See if I want to do it again.”

She splashed him with water, looked down the stream, then back to him. “Do you?”