Compromised

"Just what in the hell did you think you were doing?"

Well, apparently he wasn't dead. Neither was she for that matter, but Gail was definitely bruised. When she had taken the black beauty’s bridle and swung him about, his rider had been thrown into her, and he took her down in his path. To be fair, he had done his best to soften the blow, embracing her in his arms and twisting about so he cushioned her fall. They had landed in a tangled mass of arms and legs about three feet out into the lake, shallow enough so they wouldn't drown, but enough water to soften the landing. Slightly. If she stood the lake would be about as high as her mid-calf.
But they weren't standing.

After a few heart-stopping moments below the surface, the man pulled his head out of the water and propped himself up on one elbow. The other arm was wrapped firmly around Gail's waist, and she lying most unladylike across his lap.
Gail had never been this close to a man before, at least not one that wasn’t her father. She could feel the hard muscles of his legs against her hip, feel the ripples of his solid chest and stomach through their wet, clinging clothes. Needless to say, she was speechless.

He must have (rightly) assumed he had startled her into shock, for his next words were far gentler in tone.
“Miss, er, are you all right? Is anything broken?”

She snapped her back to her senses. Goodness, they were entwined! This would never do.

“Release me, if you please.”

She wiggled a bit, trying to escape his grasp. Unfortunately, such movement only pressed her against him in new ways, and seemed to make him acutely uncomfortable. His scowl returned in full force, but his hands didn’t move from her posterior.

“Remove your hand from my backside and release me now! Are you deaf?”

Promptly, he removed the offending hand.

“If I weren’t before, I may well be so now.” He shook his head, shedding rivulets of water before they ran into his eyes and ears. “Now remove yourself from my lap, you hellion, unless you want me to take what you are so carelessly offering.”

“Oh!” was the angry reply, as she scrambled to get away from this loathsome person.

The gentleman gained his feet, the water pouring off his shoulders and down his back, forcing his clothes to cling all the tighter to his muscular frame. Oh my, he is tall, Gail thought, watching as he stripped off his soaked riding coat, wringing it out of heavy excess water. She did her best not to notice, but her eyes kept returning to the nearly transparent white shirt plastered to the grooves and plains of an impressively male torso. Why, if she looked hard enough, she could see short dark hairs beneath the shirt…

“Are you going to get up, you daft girl?” he said, slinging the sodden coat over his shoulder. Gail shook her head clear and struggled to push herself up, but the green velvet habit had become so heavy, it was if it had absorbed the entire lake.

“The skirt. The habit, it’s too heavy when wet.”

The man (for she refused to think of those that had to be prodded into helping a lady as a gentleman) rolled his eyes and took her hand, ruthlessly hauling her to her feet. This had the unfortunate side effect of throwing Gail against the object of so much of her attention, namely his chest.

Pressed against the hard, warm body, Gail felt him steady her with his strong embrace. She looked up and met his eyes – green, deep emerald green, and for a moment she was his willing captive. Then she saw those eyes go wide with… something, and he abruptly shoved her away, as if she were on fire.

Well really!