He wanted to kiss her. To taste her as deeply as she’d drunk the water. He wanted to devour her taste, her scent, claim her with his mouth, his tongue, every inch of him that pressed against her. But instead, he merely held her, imprisoning her within his arms. Then he reclaimed the ladle from her limp hands and reached behind her to dip it deep in the water.

Harriet’s gaze followed his arm as he held it over their heads.

She stared up at the ladle, her throat inadvertently exposed. Her gaze widened as he began to tilt it. “You wouldn’t da—”

He dumped it all, the coldness cascading over their heads, shoulders and back.

Water clung to her lashes and bathed her cheeks, cooling their hot color to pink. She tilted her face up, a chuckle escaping her wet lips. “That was divine. You’re worse than Stephen, you know. He is forever pouring water over poor Derrick when the poor boy least expects it. It makes Derrick furious for there are times his beloved books get a good splashing, too.”

“My brothers and sister were much the same,” he murmured, pulling the pins from her hair.

Her breathing came a bit quicker, but she managed to ask, “What did your brothers and sister torment you about?”

“I’ll never tell.”

Harriet knew a challenge when she heard one. “Won’t you?” She leaned against him, her wet dress pressing against his soaked shirt as she traced a finger down the side of his throat. “Not even if you have inducement?”

His gaze glittered then, a sudden heat that quite took Harriet’s breath away. “What kind of inducement? Would you…take this off for me?” His finger traced the neckline of her gown.

Harriet drew a quick breath as his fingers slid near her breast…then away. “In exchange for what?”

He dropped his hand from her gown. “For something my brothers and sister used to torment me about.”

She considered this a moment. “How much did they torment you?”

“Every chance they got.”

She eyed him uncertainly. “I don’t know.”

“One of my brothers even carved my nickname in the headboard of my bed. I thought my mother would explode into flames when she saw what we’d done to that bed. It was four hundred years old and had been in her family for centuries.”

“Really?”

He nodded. “She was not pleased, to put it mildly.”

“Whatever your secret nickname it must be something horrid. Hmm. That is tempting indeed.” She looked down at her gown. It was a round gown. Like all round gowns, it had a large neckline through which a ribbon was threaded, pulled tight, then tied, making for a modest appearance.

All she had to do was untie the ribbon, give a slight tug, and the entire gown would fall off her shoulders. Harriet’s body tightened at the thought. Chase made her feel…freer somehow. Rich like a plum pudding, and as decadent as ice in the middle of summer. “Tell me your secret.”