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Gaze riveted on the shocking vista of a naked siren bathing in the river, Major Garrett Fairchild had thirsted to follow with his tongue the water’s slow journey down from the vision’s shoulders. To trace that ridge of collarbone to the swell of her breast, where he might pause to warm her nipples with his breath, feel them harden again as he suckled. Then proceed lower still, over stomach and hip until, sinking to his knees, he bent to savor the taste at her center, where the droplets’ liquor mingled with her own.

Though he’d forced his eyes shut and turned away, blood seeming to boil in his veins, he’d not been able to banish from his mind the fantasy of her beckoning to him across the water. Her hands going to his trouser flap as he drew near…wrapping her droplet-spangled legs around his waist when he entered her, moaning his name as he brought her to her peak.

He’d been well behind the next outcropping of rock, legs still clumsy at being compelled to retreat rather than advance, tongue still dry with desire, when outraged sanity returned to remind him the woman for whom he lusted was not some creature out of myth but a lady. Jenna Montague, his superior officer’s innocent daughter.

That realization doused his ardor, though it had never completely extinguished it. At first he excused his reaction by reminding himself he was no saint and had been long without a woman. But as the months passed and the images still beckoned to him from the edges of his dreams, he had maintained a tight control over his conscious thoughts and carefully limited his physical contact with Jenna. He didn’t wish to blunder into doing something that might frighten or affront her, or spoil their easy, comfortable friendship.

Last fall, he’d been still too much under the spell of the lovely Lucinda to consider giving his warm thoughts honorable expression by making Jenna an offer.

But with a jolt of surprise, he realized that for quite some time now, in the drowsy moments between waking and sleep, he’d no longer seen Lucinda’s rosebud mouth, blue eyes, and flaxen hair. Sometimes, as if the image had been branded on the inside of his eyelids, he glimpsed instead that vision of Jenna rising from the river.

There’d been that moment yesterday, too. After fighting past the piles of dead and wounded to the base of Badajoz’s walls, he’d put his boot on the bottom rung of the scaling ladder, ready to lead his men up. And paused, thinking suddenly that if he were about to make the last climb of his life, what he would most regret leaving would be Jenna’s smile.

“Major, perhaps you could assist Miss Montague to carry out her papa’s trunk?”

“Of course, ma’am.” Pulling himself from his thoughts, Garrett rose and walked toward the chamber.

Yes, marrying the colonel’s daughter offered enticing possibilities, he thought, the image of Jenna bathing still smoldering in his senses.