He saw Claresta come up for a quick gulp of air and go under again. Swimming faster than he'd ever thought possible, Drake reached the area where he'd last seen her surface. He dove down twice before he located her by feel in the brackish water. His hand caught in her long, flowing hair, which had come loose from its bindings. She seemed to be resisting his efforts to bring her to the surface. Then he realized she was tugging ineffectually at her underskirts.

Drake grabbed a handful of the material and ripped the weighty garments away, tearing a portion of her dress in the process. He wasted no time wrapping one arm around her and pulling her to the surface.

She coughed and sputtered, and then laughed. "I'm all right."

She may be, but he certainly wasn't. His heart slammed against his chest like a hammer striking an anvil. She had scared the living daylights out of him, and she dared laugh. Had he not needed both arms to keep them afloat he would gladly strangle her. Finally he dragged them both onto the shore. They fell in a heap, his arm still wound tightly beneath her breasts.

"You idiotic little minx. You could have drowned," he exclaimed brusquely and barely resisted the urge to shake her until her teeth rattled.

When she laughed again, he lost his reserve. He crushed her to him and kissed her. Her lips parted on a gasp, and he rammed his tongue inside. She tasted of salt and weeds and rain. Not exactly an aphrodisiacal combination, but desire stronger than anything he'd ever felt before surged through Drake.

He'd meant the kiss to punish her, but he was the one who suffered. It had started raining, but he paid little heed. He didn't want to let her go. Not now. Not ever.