The Raven Prince by Elizabeth Hoyt

fact. Black swirls stretched across his breast and funneled down to his hard stomach. The hair narrowed to a thin ribbon that crossed his flat navel and then disappeared into his breeches.
    The earl stood in his stockinged feet and half climbed, half slid down the steep bank and into the water. The muddy stream swirled around his hips as he waded to the side of the frightened ewe. He bent over the animal, working at the branches holding her. His wide shoulders gleamed with sweat and streaks of muck.
    A shout rose from the watching men. The ewe was free, but in her haste to escape the stream, she had shouldered the earl, who went down in a geyser of muddy water. Anna gasped and started forward. Lord Swartingham’s dog raced back and forth along the bank, barking excitedly. The earl emerged from the stream like a ragged Poseidon, water running in sheets off his torso. He was grinning even though his hair was plastered to his skull, the ribbon holding it having been lost in the stream.
    The dog was still barking his disapproval of the whole proceeding. Meanwhile, the farmer and his relatives staggered about, gasping with laughter and slapping their knees. They were all but rolling on the ground in their hilarity. Anna sighed. Apparently an aristocrat getting a dunking was the most amusing thing the men had ever seen. Males were very perplexing at times.
    “Oy! Milord! Do you always have trouble holding your wenches?” one of the men shouted.
    “Nay, lad, she just didn’t like the feel of his hand on her arse.” The farmer made a graphic gesture that sent the men off again.
    The earl laughed, but nodded toward Anna. Thus reminded of her presence, the men stopped their jests, although they continued to snigger. The earl lifted both hands to slick the water from his face.
    Anna caught her breath at the sight. With his hands at the back of his head, squeezing the water from his hair, his muscles stood out in sharp relief. The sun glinted off his flexed arms and chest, and his black underarm hair curled damply. Rivulets of grimy water, mixed with blood from the ewe, ran down his chest and arms. His low-slung breeches clung to his hips and thighs, delineating the bulge of his manhood. He looked quite pagan.
    Anna shivered.
    The earl waded to shore and climbed the bank with a helping hand from the farmer’s sons. Anna gave herself a shake and hurried over with his clothes.
    He used the fine lawn shirt as a towel and then threw on his coat over his bare chest. “Well, Durbin, I hope you will call me the next time you are unable to handle a female.”
    “Aye, milord.” The farmer slapped Lord Swartingham on the back. “My thanks for helping us out. Don’t remember when I’ve seen a grander splash.”
    That set the men off again, and it was some little while before the earl and Anna could leave. By the time they were mounted, the earl’s body was shaking with cold, but he showed no sign of hurry.
    “You’ll catch your death of cold, my lord,” Anna said. “Please ride on to the Abbey ahead of me. You can go much faster without Daisy and me to slow you down.”
    “I’m quite all right, Mrs. Wren,” he replied through teeth clenched to keep them from chattering. “Besides, I wouldn’t want to be deprived of your dulcet company for even a moment.”
    Anna glared at him for she knew he was being sarcastic. “You don’t have to prove how manly you are by catching the ague.”
    “So you consider me manly, Mrs. Wren?” He grinned like a little boy. “I was beginning to think that I battled a stinking sheep for nothing.”
    Anna tried, but it was impossible to keep her mouth from twitching. “I didn’t know landowners helped their tenants so,” she said. “Surely it is unusual?”
    “Oh, certainly unusual,” he replied. “I suppose the majority of my peers sit in London letting their arses widen while their stewards run their estates.”
    “Then why do you choose to wade into muddy streams after sheep?”
    The