They'd shared a midnight swim before —on the quiet nights when the tide was gentle. Always under the cover of darkness. Always at her request. A mirthful walk to the shoreline, shy and hurried undressing in their own corners of the world to slip under the waves as quickly as possible. He never had hired another maid, so the only prying eyes would be their own. For the impropriety of it all they were quite polite.
He wondered if the moon had ever been this full before, though. Everything seemed so bright, and sharp. Like he'd developed a new sense. Or lost one—it was so quiet. There had been no teasing as they scaled the slope from his tower. Just the soft padding of his bare feet as they followed hers. The waves seemed far away.
And now they stood at their own corners of the world, but neither one turned away. He couldn't; her eyes on his kept him paralyzed as she slowly, and very deliberately, undressed. For all of the unspoken things that had grown between them these last years, she was clear now. She wanted him to watch. And, he licked his lips, to touch. To taste. All the senses.
He followed her lead—always following—and stripped away the last of his defenses.