It was only three days. It was a lark. Whatever Trev was—wild and a rogue and a teller of lies and tales—he had never abandoned her or allowed her to be hurt on one of their adventures. He'd always played the mother hen, constantly making certain she was safe and warning her of jeopardy, insisting that she remain in the background, so that it was all rather like a game in which she participated from within a cradle of his protection.

They were friends. There was nothing more to it, of course. Merely very dear friends.

But she had three days to live in the one daydream she had never dared to indulge.

She felt the corners of her lips turn upward. She lifted her face and forgot herself, put aside the thought that she was a wallf lower and a spinster lady of advancing years, forgot she wasn't beautiful, forgot anything but that she was standing in Trev's arms and he was holding her tight and close as he bent to taste her lips again. He slid his hands up the curve of her waist, taking her face between his palms. With slow deliberation, he kissed the corner of her mouth, and then her chin, and her nose, and her temple. Then he stood back and looked down at her.

Callie met his eyes. They both smiled at once, as if it were a conspiracy between them.

She pressed her palms together and held them over her mouth in excitement. She giggled. "Oh my!" she said in a muff led voice.

Trev's smile turned into a grin. His dark lashes lowered. "Do you know," he said, "when you smile at me that way, I'd like to…" He broke off his sentence and cleared his throat. "Well. Slay dragons, or some thing along that line."

"Mere dragons?" she inquired. "I was hoping it would be giant squids."

"Take care, wicked Callie, or I shall stop hedging and tell you what I'd like to do in fact."

"Is it something very wicked?" she asked expectantly.

"Very," he murmured, pulling her close at the waist. "You know I have a particular talent for that."

She moved her hips in a daring way and had the pleasure of seeing him close his eyes and draw in his breath. It felt a bold thing to do, but not entirely unfamiliar to her. And the look on his face was reward enough; he had that dreamy, hot expression, his lips parting in a slight smile. Callie put her arms around his neck, above the high collar of his coat. "Will you show me?" she whispered.

He gave a low groan. "Ah, a little, perhaps." His fingers toyed with the single button that held the upswept folds of the dress at her back. "Maybe just a little."