She left him sitting on the trunk and felt about in the dark boot for the horse supplies, returning with scissors and cloth. As she bent over and wrapped his hand, she could feel his breath move softly against her temple and hair.

She tied off the bandage tightly and cut the ends. Then she straightened, standing between him and the carriage. It loomed behind her like a huge and awkward keepsake, a ponderous memento, as if a hidden package of love letters had suddenly mush roomed into an elephant, standing there swinging its trunk back and forth with gauche shyness.

"Well!" she said brightly. "Another adventure."

He remained sitting, his head turned a little aside as he looked up at her. "Another adventure," he said with a smile that held no humor. He closed his bound fist, holding it up against his shoulder.

"Does it hurt when you breathe? You think you might have cracked a rib?"

"I'm all right. Thank you, this helps a good deal."

"There's little enough I can do, if you won't see the surgeon."

"I'm all right, Callie. Sit down with me for a moment."

She felt her pulse beating faster. But he appeared more distracted than amorous, which made her ashamed that she was feeling quite animated by his company in the middle of the night in highly improper circumstances. She sat down, her oilskin rustling.

For a few moments, they were both silent. Callie watched the gleam and sway of light on the black carriage paint. Several layers of fabric and oilcloth separated them, but not enough to prevent her feeling the solid shape of his shoulder against her arm. She wriggled her toes inside her work boots. They were cold, but her cheeks felt f lushed.

Unexpectedly he took her hand, locking it within his. He lifted it and bent his head and pressed his mouth to her fingers. She watched him in astonish ment, feeling as if it were some other lady sitting in her place with his lips and cheek resting against her hand.

"I have to leave Shelford now, Callie," he said.

She blinked. "Leave?"

"I can't go back to Dove House. Would you—could I ask you to call on my mother? And tell her…"

He stopped, as if he could not think of what he wanted to say.

"You have to leave now?" Callie repeated stupidly. "What do you mean?"

He gave a short laugh and kissed her hand. "I'd rather not explain. I'm a brainless bastard, will that suffice?"

She was bewildered. "But… how long will you be gone?"

"For good," he said roughly.

"Oh." She stared at him.

"I've had one adventure too many, I'm afraid."

"But… I don't understand. You must leave Shelford now?"

"Perhaps you'll understand tomorrow, or the next day."

She remembered suddenly that she had written to Major Sturgeon, giving him permission to call on her tomorrow if he wished. She opened her fingers. Trev let her go.