“Well,” he said, his deep voice rumbling between them with an austerity that even her dukely brother-in-law failed to manage. “If you have no objections then.”

Turning, he headed for the shore, gliding smoothly, offering her a glimpse of his muscled male back, youthful and strong, undulating with his movements. An inconvenient lump formed in her throat. Who knew a man’s back could be so riveting?

The surface of the pond hardly even rippled as he swam away, which seemed a testament to his inherent agility. She did not have a great deal of exposure to agile men. Most were patients who were aging or ill. Except for her brothers-in-law, of course. But she did not see them as men. They were married to her sisters. They existed in a category of their own.

If you have no objections . . .

Oh, she objected. Heartily so.

Inside she was raging at this man’s intrusion on her pond, and upon her peace . . . and his disruption to her equilibrium.

She watched, frozen in the middle of the pond—except for her treading legs, which kept her from sinking. Although drowning didn’t sound too terrible right now because her face burned hot with mortification. She’d never been one to ogle a man, but here she was doing that very thing. It irked her. She had always thought herself immune to such behavior, but there was no stopping her gasp as he emerged from the pond, revealing himself inch by inch, water sluicing down the long lines of his big body.

All of his body. From the back, at any rate.

His broad shoulders tapered to a narrow waist and hips. But it was his backside that most captured her attention. The tight, well-formed cheeks of his derriere. Saliva pooled in her mouth. A curious impulse seized her to squeeze those cheeks . . . give them a swat and see if they were as firm as they looked.

Madness. She wasn’t a licentious person. She attributed the urge to her scientific nature. She was a curious person. Nothing more.

He bent and gathered up his garments. Turning, he faced her and she saw that his stomach was flat, his chest lightly sprinkled with hair, the sinews of his torso rippling with his movements beneath taut skin.

For all his great height and breadth of shoulders, he was lean and rangy and could use a few additional meals. And yet his strength and power felt palpable. She sensed it in the same way the air felt charged preceding a storm.

Again, this was merely her professional opinion and not that of a female given to appreciating the male form in any carnal manner.

A familiar quote from Julius Caesar sprang to mind . . . a lean and hungry look; He thinks too much; such men are dangerous.

Treading water, she swallowed against the thickness in her throat.