"Answer me." That authoritative way of speaking had returned to his speech!
"You came in hopes of finding me, and now that you have, you would flee?"
But how could he tell? How could he know what even she had not realized until she saw him?
"How—"
"Because I am the same," he said. "I told myself a swim was all I had come out for, but the moment I heard your steps, I realized, ah, that is why I came. In hopes I would catch a glimpse of her dancing in the middle of the woods barefoot—like a madwoman."
Her composure broke completely.
Was that a confession? she wondered, her heart taking a new rhythmic pattern. Almost like the beat of the song to which she had danced that evening.
"So, Damaris, tell me. If you do not tell me how you feel, I will not know it. Do not run from us—tell me the truth."
Her hands clenched upon her skirt, her teeth caught her lower lip, and her throat tightened.
She still felt ashamed, but—
"What did you think of me earlier, when I danced at the tavern?"
—perhaps, tonight was the night she cast aside her pride.
"Come closer, and I will tell you." Her eyes lifted, scanning him, and this time she saw nothing of mockery upon his face.
Far from it.
He was serious.
She swallowed, her toes curled inward in her sandals as she inhaled and took the first step.
"Closer…" She eyed him wickedly but moved again.
"Closer, Damaris. I am not stricken with a contagious plague."
"You are an arrogant man!" she hissed, but moved closer still until her feet reached the edge of the lake.
"T-this is close enough. Now tell me." She refused to go into the water—not when she wore nothing but her nightdress and he had said it himself…
That he was unclothed.
He folded his arms across his chest. "I thought you were mad."
"What?"
"Why would you adorn yourself like a goddess, only to display it to all the hot-blooded men of Wisteria?"
Her chest heaved, and her anger flared. She should have known better. He was truly irredeemable, this man!
She hissed, turned, and was about to walk away from the foolish man when cold, strong arms wrapped around her waist and dragged her into the water.
Like her life was about to be taken from her, she fought, clawed, and screamed.
Her shawl was long forgotten, her wet dress could scarcely be called a covering, and her curled hair began to straighten.
"You are a fool! Let me go!" She clawed at his arms, trying to break free, though she knew from experience that it was quite impossible. "I dressed up in those clothes to show you! Not the men of Wisteria—you! Because you said you wished to see me in them! And—"
"Aye, I said that! But had I known you would look as you did, I never would have said it! You have no idea how hard I tried to suppress my desire to rip out every whistling tongue in that place!"
With force, he held her steady and forced her to look at him, and she would have fought further—by the gods she most certainly would have…
But she had made the grave mistake of meeting his gaze. Since earlier, she had tried not to stare into those eyes for too long, but now she was lost in them.
And she was made to listen.
"You have no idea how hard I am trying to suppress the urge to forever keep you in a place where only I might watch you dance, only I might hear your voice—only I can—" He clenched his teeth, his hold on her getting even stronger, "—a place where I alone might speak your name—Damaris."
Her hands rested upon his chest, her heaving breath had settled, and his head now pressed against hers.
"Every move you made, from the tapping of your feet upon the wooden platform to the soft flutter of your lashes, everything was mesmerizing."
The words she had wished to hear all night—
"No one dances quite like Damaris."
—were at last reaching her ears.
"I have never been so entranced by a dancer in all my life…"
And her anger, disappointment, pain, embarrassment, shame… all of it faded with just a few words.
She was an easy woman, she just realized.
Perhaps not for everyone.
But for this man, she had become one.
His hand reached for her face. He pushed some damp strands from her eyes, his thumb gently caressing her cheek. "Would it be selfish of me to ask that only I might see that side of Damaris?"
"Why would I grant such a request?" she asked. "Who are you to request anything of me?" she asked, a slight pout resting upon her lips.
"Your arrogant neighbor," he said, and a suppressed smile threatened to betray her true emotions.
"You are indeed one arrogant man," she hmphed.
"And you must hate it."
"I do. I hate your insufferable arrogance."
"Then you must hate me too."
"I do. I hate you very much."
"Even if I were to confess that I have come to care for you, far more than I would want to admit?"
"That does not—" she paused. Her hand on his chest pushed gently, putting space between them so she could look at him.
He was looking directly at her, and she wondered if she had misheard him.
His hands fell to her waist, wrapping around her, pressing her against him as he let out a small sigh.
"I had a moment to consider it. And as I swam, again and again, striving to clear my mind, one thing became even more vivid…"
She waited… to hear that one thing.
And when she heard it—"Damaris."—her insides trembled.