He smiled and let her begin leading. She wished she could say she was good at it, but she wasn’t. Twice she ran them into another couple, and once they barely missed a low table by the door.

But eventually she began to understand how to do it, and she led them without incident. As she relaxed, she became aware of the feel of his chest against hers. Of his hand on her waist. Of being surrounded by him.

The music swelled and pulsed, yet somehow they were in the center of a bubble of pure bliss, a slow heat simmering about them.

Kat let herself drift against him. It was heavenly, being held like this.

Their bodies brushed, then touched, then stayed there.

A deep languor arose, and Kat closed her eyes, letting the music take them where it would.

They went slower and slower, lost in the tug of heat that rose and ebbed between their bodies. Everything else ceased to be. It was just the two of them and no one else. Finally, his arms encircled her and his mouth moved from her hair, to her cheek, to her mouth…

Kat was lost. She kissed him back as passionately as he kissed her, reveling in the feel of Devon, her Devon, around her, with her. His hands moved across her back, then lower to cup her bottom intimately. It was then that she realized that the music had come to a halt. As had all the talking.

In fact, the entire room was deafeningly silent.

Kat opened her eyes, breaking the kiss, stepping away so that Devon was no longer touching her. All around them stood the other guests.

Some were smiling.

Some were plainly scandalized.

Some looked too shocked to do more than stare with mouths agape. Dear Lord, but they’d all seen Devon kissing her. Worse, he’d had his hands on her arse.

Kat caught sight of Murien’s furious face, Fiona standing beside her, white-faced and grim.

Good God, what had she done? Kat didn’t dare look at Devon; it had to be his worst nightmare. She turned toward him, her gaze locked on the top button of his waistcoat. “Do not say a word,” she said in a low voice. “Let me—”

“Katherine.”

Malcolm’s voice broke over her. She turned to find him next to her.

He looked hard at Devon. “It appears as if this ball has a purpose after all.”

“Malcolm, no—” Kat began.

He threw up his hand. “This is a conversation better had in private. Shall we retreat to the library?”

She nodded miserably, wishing she could find something to say to Devon. Meanwhile all around them came the whispers. They were low now, but Kat knew how this part went…first were the tiny whispers, followed by the slightly audible murmurs of disapproval. Next came the accusations. Those hit with gale force, ripping reputation and fate alike.