The first glancing touch of his tongue silenced her. She tried to shift away, but his hands slid beneath her wrapper to close over her bare hips and hold her fast in the position he wanted.

Maggie knew that Reeve wasn’t going to release her. Her breath came in quick gasps as he began his gentle reprisal.

Maggie was dressed, with her hair up in a coronet at the back of her head, when the doctor arrived. There was nothing she could do about the high color in her cheeks or the sweet humming sensation in the very core of her that made her words come out with a squeaky breathlessness.

Dr. Claridge, an elderly man with a balding pate and dancing blue eyes, examined Reeve and said, smiling at Maggie, “Remarkable. What on earth did you do?”

Maggie went red as brick, and Reeve chuckled. “Love will work miracles,” said Dr. Claridge politely. “I’ve always said so.”

Maggie made a dash for the door and fled down the rear stairs, her skirts clasped in her hands. There was a strange woman sitting at the kitchen table with Cora, sipping tea.

Feeling like a bounding schoolgirl, Maggie came to an abrupt halt, staring at the woman and feeling an uneasy premonition. The visitor’s hair was dark, like Loretta’s, and her eyes were a crystalline blue. Though she wore a very sedate dress, there was no hiding the shapely lines of her body.

“Maggie, this is Miss Eleanor Kilgore. She’s going to be taking care of Mr. McKenna until he’s up and around again.”

Maggie nodded politely. Though it was completely frivolous, she felt an urge to drag Miss Kilgore to her feet and shuffle her out the back door. “I had meant to look after Mr. McKenna myself,” she said.

Eleanor smiled, revealing tiny, perfect white teeth. “Caring for an invalid is quite exhausting, miss. Not to mention that it requires a rather strong stomach. Have you ever emptied a bedpan?”

Maggie had just been challenged, though only she and Eleanor seemed to know it. “I—I could,” Maggie said uncertainly.

“But you haven’t,” Eleanor replied, her tone placid. “I imagine the servants have been taking care of that.”

Maggie was very conscious of her tenuous position in Reeve’s household. If she’d been his wife, she could have ordered Miss Kilgore out; as his fiancée—a slow blush crept up her face—and his mistress, she had no such right. “I’m taking Mr. McKenna to Queensland in just a few days. I’m sure you wouldn’t want to travel so far, when the assignment will surely be a short one.”

Eleanor was unmoved. “Dr. Claridge tells me that the recovery could take some considerable time, if it happens at all. Besides, I rather like the idea of living in a sunny, tropical setting. I’m told Mr. McKenna’s estate borders the ocean.”