She turned and saw him: masked, dressed in loose shirtsleeves, his collar open and a bloodred sash about his waist. He carried a sword in a glittering sheath, a real one—she recognized the elegant weapon that hung above the mantelpiece at Dove House. With his black hair and dark skin and a pair of yellow breeches thrust down inside his tall boots in the billowing Cossack style, he looked a corsair indeed.

She could have blurted out her news. It was her first thought, but hard on that came the memory of his leaving and what he had said to her. She stiffened, resisting his touch.

Guests nearby gave them curious glances, as well they might, for of all the costumes, his was the most simple and yet the most dramatic. Scandalous, without a waistcoat or cover for his shirt, with the muscle in his shoulders obvious and his collar points dangling carelessly down so that his throat and chest were half revealed. Dolly, in a small coterie of her friends, was staring openly.

"I'm shocked to see you here," she said, with more dignity than she could have summoned without a mask to hide her face.

He did not reply. He looked down at her, his mouth grim below the black mask tied across his eyes. The first notes of a waltz drifted above the crowd of guests. He caught her about the waist and swept her into the dance.

"I thought you were going elsewhere," she said, blowing the plume from her face as they turned.

Still he did not speak. Resentment began to rise in her, that he would come back again. Again! How many times was she to be teased and mocked? If he said again that he loved her, and that he must go away, she would scream. Perversely, she suddenly wanted to keep her hard-gained victory on his behalf to herself.

"To the devil, in fact," she added, lifting her chin.

"Oh yes," he murmured. "And this time I'm taking you with me."

Callie glanced up at him, tripping a little. He held her up in balance, turning them both to the music. Through the mask, his eyes glinted. She was already f lushed from the dance, but these words caused her to lose her breath for an instant.

Her agitation increased as she noticed Major Sturgeon coming toward them across the f loor. Her fingers tightened on Trev's shoulder. He glanced over her head and then gave a smile that was most piratical under the mask.

"Oh dear," she whispered. "Don't make a scene."

The smile vanished. He gazed down at her steadily. "Is that what you want? No scenes?"