In Which Searle Experiences the Good Sort of Unnerving

April 6, 1167

It was finally warm enough outside to walk around without the burden of a heavy cloak. Searle had meant to take advantage of that and go for a nice long ride, but as soon as he'd reached the pond, the fair weather had become bittersweet. It was common knowledge exactly what people did in this pond, and some restless part of him had always wondered what it might be like to take a girl here. Now, he supposed he would never know, unless his wife was wilder than he could expect of a noble lady--and knowing his luck, what were the odds of that?

Well, he supposed he could always have someone else on the side, but unless she turned out to be a complete banshee, he didn't think he'd feel right about it. Besides, what pleasure could come from a beloved mistress if one always knew in the back of his head that he could never truly be hers?

Word was that she had arrived in Naroni a few days earlier, this betrothed of his, and she would be dining at Veldora tomorrow night; as far as he was concerned, this was his last day as a bachelor. He'd had a few girls since he'd heard that she was coming, but none had been quite as satisfying as he might have hoped--always, the knowledge that he was being robbed of his unattached youth cast a gloomy cloud over his encounters. How had his father agreed to this? Didn't the man love him?

"Why so glum, Sailor? Your favorite wench didn't greet you at the harbor?"

His eyes flickered to their corners, allowing him to see a dark-haired girl approaching him from the side. Searle sighed. "Do you mind? I'm trying to think."

"You can think with me here," she assured him with a smile. "In fact, when do you ever not think? It seems to me that it would take a lot more effort to stop thinking than to continue to do so, regardless of whether one is alone or not."

Of all the odd things to say. Searle looked up at her as she stopped a few feet to his right. She looked to be about his age, perhaps a little older, with bright hazel eyes and a teasing half-smile. Her dress was plain, but it was no commoner's rag; she must have been at least a gentlewoman. She was not quite pretty--somewhat scrawny, with a longish face and a rather strong chin for a woman--but she was of the sort that seemed more attractive than she actually was. Either that, or she was much more attractive than she appeared to be--Searle couldn't decide. "Of course, if one was to consciously resolve not to think... well, that would be thinking in itself, would it not?"

Not sure whether he was more amused or annoyed, Searle pulled himself to his feet. "You know what I meant."

The girl shrugged. "In any case, this wouldn't be the best place just 'think', as you put it. What people do here is the worst-kept secret in all of Naroni; it makes no sense for anyone to be here alone."

"You're here alone," he pointed out, suddenly aware of how close they were standing; it felt much more comfortable than he might have expected.

She looked him up and down and smirked. "Not anymore, I'm not."

What a strange girl--still, he couldn't deny that there was something intriguing about her. But what was she doing here? "I don't think I've seen you around these parts before."

The girl laughed, her body swaying about as if pushed by a breeze undetected by him. "That's neither here nor there. Perhaps you simply never looked hard enough."

"And perhaps I did, and you just weren't there." She responded with a sly smile; he didn't know how much more of this he could take. "You should head home soon. What's a nice girl like you doing in a place like this anyway?"

Shaking her head, she took a few steps toward the edge of the pond and undid her belt--Searle had to do a double-take as she flung it onto the branch of a nearby tree. "Just trying to cool down."

Unable to do otherwise, he watched as she pulled off her dress and tossed it to the side before easing herself into the pond in nothing but her shift and a grin. He hadn't guessed her for the type who would take off her clothes for a man she'd just met, and in truth, he still didn't believe she was; it seemed she would do as she pleased, regardless of whether he was there or not. "You must be insane; the water hasn't had time to warm up yet."

"I'm tougher than I look."

That she was--nearly waist-deep and she hadn't even shivered. "Well? Am I swimming by myself, or are you man enough to join me?"

He felt his eyes bulge. She couldn't have expected him to follow--could she? "You can't be serious."

"No, I can't, and my mother always says that's both my greatest charm and my greatest flaw," she stated, a literal response to his figurative sentence, "and you're the exact opposite. In all honesty, I think you need nothing more than a good splash in the face."

Defeated, Searle kicked off his boots began to undo the ties of his vest. "You'd better not try."

He stripped to his undergarment, then, bracing himself for the water's frigid bite, allowed himself to be led into the pond. The icy jolt never came; either it was warmer than he had suspected, or he lacked the presence of mind to notice otherwise. How had she done it? No one else had been able to so easily persuade him to do something so irrational as going swimming in the early spring before.

It seemed immodest to look at her, so he tried to do otherwise. He studied the lilies floating on the water, their blossoms perfect in their own drenched, weather-beaten, asymmetrical way. Searle generally disliked such scattered sights, but somehow, there was order in their disarray, beauty in their mess. "You all right there, Sailor?" asked the girl, treading nearer and nearer until only a few inches of nothing sat between them. Searle swallowed. "Moreso than I thought I'd be. It's... it's a little unnerving, to be honest."

Had he just stammered? Oh dear Lord--he'd never stammered in his life.

She placed a warm hand on his shoulder and leaned nearer; he was acutely aware of her moist, full lips. "That's what you might call the good sort of unnerving."

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