“Perhaps you’ll experience it before I awaken if we move forward with the plans.” She was rather proud of that volley, could sense him going very still across from her.

“If I don’t agree to strive to get you with child—it doesn’t mean we can’t become involved.”

She’d spent a good deal of last night, when she couldn’t sleep, ruminating on that possibility, to simply lose herself in him, surrounded by him. To escape with him would be far more rewarding than the pages of any book. But that was a selfish desire, want. She had such a short time in which to gain what she needed. “I fear, Mr. Trewlove, you have the wrong of it there. If you cannot give me what I require, I will have to go elsewhere.”

Although she couldn’t imagine taking another man between her thighs. Even now she wanted Aiden with a need that was frightening. Rather than remain on that path of thought, she decided to alter the direction of their conversation. “It was very kind of you to send the book to Alice.”

The sky was lightening, and she more easily saw his shrug, as though his gift had been nothing at all. Reaching into her reticule, she removed the sealed letter that Alice had given her and held it out to him. “Alice sends her appreciation.”

He took the missive and tucked it into a pocket inside the left breast of his jacket.

“I take it she passed your test.”

With a deep sigh, he stretched out his long legs, so his booted feet rested on either side of hers. “I like your sisters.”

It was a simple statement, but it held a great deal of warmth and approval. “I like yours as well. And your brothers. The little bit I saw of them.”

“Fancy had them working their backsides off.”

“She has a great deal of ambition, your sister.”

“We all do.” He glanced out the window. “Nothing was handed to us, nothing has come easily.”

She wondered if he were contemplating how easily he might hand his son a dukedom. Or his daughter properties and marriage into the nobility. He was the result of a man who seemed to plant his seed hither and yon with no regard for the consequences. Aiden, on the other hand, accepted responsibility for all his actions. She didn’t think his adopted mother would have accepted less of her children.

“The cook prepared us a light repast. Bread, cheese, boiled eggs.” She would have tapped the wicker basket on the floor in the corner if it wouldn’t have meant tangling her skirts in his leg, having it between her calves, conjuring up images of other aspects of him between her knees.

“I’ve eaten, thank you. Would you like me to hand the basket up to you?”