“This is true valor, I hope you know. Legends have sprung from less. All Lancelot did was paddle about in a balmy lake.” She smiled. “Lancelot was a knight. You’re a viscount. The bar is higher.” He gave a raspy chuckle, breathless from the cold. “Why is it,” he asked, nearing her, “that you only display that delightfully wicked sense of humor when you’re chilled and wet through?” “I . . .” Her eyelashes fluttered so fast and so hard, she might have been trying to take flight with them. “I don’t know.”
