“But necessary.” Rose ignored the butterflies in her stomach and threw him a wink as she plucked the picnic hamper out. Bellamy strolled ahead up the rocky verge into the stubby trees, showing no signs of the exerting row across the water he’d just made. Rose found herself staring once again, unable to rip her eyes from his tall figure. She found his ripped, athletic surfer type body fascinating because it didn't seem to belong to the overly polite, stilted manner he projected. Maybe it was all an act. Whatever the case, it was definitely one of the things that attracted her to him. Bellamy didn't seem to fit into any mold she knew. It was like she had discovered a whole new species of man.

But he did seem to fit in here, on this remote island, on the water. That much she could tell from the way he relaxed and absorbed the air around them.

“Shall I pick a spot for us?” he called back with that boyish enthusiasm, breaking her from the dreamlike trance.

“Go for it. Somewhere out of view.”

“Whatever the lady desires,” Bellamy replied with a mocking bow.

She rolled her eyes because his weird phrases weren't a pretention, like in some TV drama. No, etiquette and protocol were important to him for some reason, they must have had a real place somewhere in his upbringing. But the best part was he didn't take himself too seriously.

“Much obliged, kind sir,” she replied in an attempt to copy his manner.

Bellamy glanced over his shoulder at her and smiled yet again, something he didn’t seem to be able to help doing. Rose melted a little and forced herself to look away, to hide her meager vulnerable side.

The spot he picked was a small grassy area under the trees, ringed by a shallow verge on three sides. A layer of rock moss made it soft underfoot. On the open side, a thicket of rhododendron bushes shielded them from the lake. The sound of water lapping against the rocks not far below was soothing. Hypnotic. A flock of mallards flying low over the trees made no noise whatsoever.

Bellamy crouched beside her as she laid the tablecloth on the ground and emptied the picnic contents onto it. When she'd finished, he took her by the hand; lacing their fingers sent delicate waves of delight through her fingertips.

“You did good,” she murmured, dumbly trying to keep the banter going. Nervous, all of a sudden. “Nice spot, I mean.”

“I thought you’d like it.”

After a few tense moments, he let go and sat cross-legged opposite her on the blanket. Watching her.