"No!" she exclaimed, the bed rocking as she sat up. "You're very obliging, sir," she said in distress, "but please, you must not."

He sat up also. "Callie, I'm in earnest. If you would consider…" Consider marriage to a convicted criminal. Consider f leeing the country and never coming back. Consider tying herself for life to a fraud. She thought he had vast estates, a place in society, titles that were more than pretty words and air. He trailed off, staring uneasily into the darkness toward her.

"I'm sorry," she said quietly. "We wouldn't suit. But I do thank you, Trev." Her voice was sincere, a little shaky. "Truly. It's very kind of you to offer."

He ran his hand through his hair. It seemed like a blow, one of the lethal sort that didn't hurt at first, only sent a strange shock through the body, a few moments of numbness before the pain would come roaring in. All he could think was that he hadn't even told her the worst yet, and already she said no.

"Well," he said at last.

She leaned down, searching for his lips. Her hair fell over his chest as she kissed him with a shy tenderness, a questioning, as if she weren't sure of his response. Still f loating in the numbed delay before reality, he put his hands up and cupped her face. Ferociously he kissed her, angrily, pulling her down on top of him. He thrust his fingers into the mass of her hair and carried her over onto her back in one swift move. Cold air washed his bared shoulders.

He held himself over her, his mouth hovering just above hers. "You want it all?" he breathed. He felt wild now, unreasonable. "You want me?"

She made a faint nod in the darkness. He wanted her with a need that had the blood hammering in his veins. He felt her lips part. Her body was delicate and soft beneath him, freed of all the petticoats and corsets and limits.

He slid his hand down the shape of her, kissing her deeply at the same time, feeling her back arch toward him as he drew up the silk. She was so beautiful; he could imagine what she would look like in the light, with her hair loose, with her nether curls of pretty golden rose—he knew that much of her, glimpses of bright curls against white skin. He remembered it, he ran his fingers through it, drawing a willing whimper from her lips.