She lost herself in it, this stolen moment. It was bliss. Everything around her was him: his weight on her and his hair brushing her chin, his skin warm beneath her hands. All modesty deserted her, discarded as freely as her hat had been tossed to the f loor. She spread her legs and pressed her body up to his. The air seemed to leave her lungs. Waves of sensation made her breasts seem to swell and rise to the delicious pull.

When he broke away, she could hardly gather her wits and recall who and where she was. He turned from her, sitting up and leaning back against the wall, staring at the tea table. He released a deep exhalation and closed his eyes. "I think—we had best stop there," he said.

"Oh," she said, vastly disappointed. "Gooseberries."

He laughed, turning to lean down to her again, his face close to hers. "I want you far too much," he said. "Miss Gooseberry."

Her eyes widened. "You do?"

"Oh no, I'm just about to have an apoplexy, that's all."

"An apoplexy!" She stuck out the tip of her tongue at him. "I suppose we don't want that."

"No indeed. Where would Hubert be if I fell dead on the f loor?"

"I expect I should have to call in Major Sturgeon," she said airily.

He nipped her shoulder hard enough to make her yelp. Then he nuzzled her throat. "That pompous f latfish? What would you want with him?"

Callie giggled. "If you must know, he said he would do anything for me," she informed him in an arch voice.

Trev drew back a little. "He did, did he? And just when did he make this satisfying offer?"

"He has called several times," she said. "He was most obliging."

She expected that Trev would laugh, but his face changed subtly, grew cooler. "Several times!" he said. "I suppose one can guess what his object is." He pushed away from her, leaning on one elbow, his back propped against the wall. "Has he proposed to you yet?"

Callie began to be sorry she had mentioned Major Sturgeon, even to tease. It was hardly the moment to bring up the most persistent admirer of her fortune. She bit her lip.

"Has he?" Trev sat up. He began to tuck in his shirt and rebutton his waistcoat.

When Callie didn't reply, he stood, leaving her amid the disarray of her skirts and chemise. She pulled the fabric over herself and sat up also.

"Of course he has," Trev said. His mouth formed a hard line. "Did you fob him off?"

Callie held the dress to her breast. "I suppose I should have," she said faintly.

"You didn't?" His voice held a slight crack. "You're engaged to him?"

"No," Callie said. "Of course not."