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Vorkosigan Sousleau

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"I freely admit that I don't know much about boats," Cordelia said, treading water, "but I'm pretty sure the sail is supposed to be pointing up."

Aral splashed her, and she ducked and splashed him back. Fortunately, the lake water was warm at this time of year, and it wasn't actually unpleasant to be having an impromptu swim. He took one of the bits of rope that he had been using to control--or not control--the boat, and threw it over. "Hold onto the side," he said, "and she should scoop you in as she comes back up."

He swam around the boat, out of sight, and Cordelia waited. They'd only been sailing for five minutes when Aral, rather obviously showing off for her, had turned a bit sharply and then they'd both been in the water and the boat had been on its side. The boat began to move, she heard Aral mutter something in Barrayaran Russian that was probably rude, and Cordelia let out a squeak as the boat did scoop her on board as it righted itself. She sat up in rather a lot of water in the bottom of the boat and looked around. Aral was holding the side and grinning, that wonderful grin that made her not mind that all her clothes were wet. Aral pulled himself in, and Cordelia hastily moved to trim the boat before his weight tipped it straight over again.

They scooped out the water in the bottom, and Aral sat back. "Ready to try again? I warn you, this happens a lot when I sail."

There hadn't actually been anything about being repeatedly tipped into the water in the Barrayaran marriage vows she had made to Aral just last week, but Cordelia grinned back. "The ship is yours, my dear admiral."