“You’ll have to catch me first,” she taunted, and her heart clattered in her chest as she started for the pier, kicking as though a sea monster nipped at her heels. Reese gave chase, but only half-heartedly. He could have overtaken her in the space of two seconds if he’d wished.

Sophie shouldn’t have been disappointed that she reached the ladder before he caught her, but the victory felt slightly hollow. Almost as if she’d wanted him to catch her.

But now she was climbing the ladder, her chest heaving. Her hair dripped over her shoulders down her back. Her shift clung to her thighs and dipped low across her breasts.

The fact that all of this should have been entirely predictable didn’t make it any less problematic. She stepped onto the pier and stood there, hugging her arms.

Reese clambered up behind her, and the sight of him emerging from the water with droplets running down his chest made her a little dizzy.

He scooped up his quilt and handed it to her. “Here. Wrap up in this.”

“Thank you.” She tossed it over her shoulders like a cloak, snuggling into the instant warmth. Exhausted, she sank onto one end of the blanket still spread on the pier and waved at spot beside her. “There’s room for you to sit, too.”

He eyed the vacant side of the quilt warily. “You’re certain?”

She looked up at him, taking in his breathtaking bare chest and soaking wet trousers. No man should be that attractive, that irresistible. “Yes. I’m sure.”

Reese lowered himself onto the quilt and sat cross-legged, as she did. Droplets clung to his shoulders, and his skin glistened in the soft glow of the lanterns. “Tell me something, Sophie,” he whispered.

She tilted her head. “What?”

“How is it that someone as lovely, smart, and passionate as you hasn’t already married?”

Heat crept up her face. “No one has captured my heart … before now,” she added.

Reese sat very still. “Before Singleton, you mean.”

Sophie shook her head, unable to lie to him. “Lord Singleton does not have my heart.”

“Then … why?” he asked—and she knew precisely what he meant. Why would she willingly bind herself to a man she didn’t love?

“It’s complicated,” she said, even though it wasn’t. Not really. “My father has a tendency to drink too much, and, due to a series of poor business decisions on his part, my family’s financial situation is … dire.”

“I’m sorry.” He gazed at her, his expression solemn and tender at the same time. “I know the toll that can take.”

“You do?” She’d just assumed he was rich—and felt a twinge of guilt that she’d been blind to his struggles.