Kate liked how she looked. She even liked the tiara her mama made her wear. All that because of the dress.

Madame Delacroix had outdone herself. Only a small change had been asked of her but she transformed Kate's dress from one that belonged to a spinster's wardrobe to a piece that would inspire verses on romance. It was an ethereal material that made the sleeves fall gracefully over her shoulders like running water, gleaming in the light. Every time Kate wore it, though, it was like a summon of the infernal viscount in her mind just like when she had first heard Madame Delacroix promising, "they will be light as a lover's touch."

It was that maddening beast of an attraction between them that had led her to push the boundary of propriety with what would never be remembered as simply offering a cup of tea to a guest. Eventually she had succeeded in what she had sought; confuse and mislead the viscount or as she preferred to think of it, win him in his own deceitful game while laying the foundation for a memorable lesson, but the price was the knowledge that indignation and anger over his audacity would not be enough to conquer her impulses if she were not careful.

In the company of others, she would appear composed and untroubled, preparing for Edwina's informal presentation to the Queen and never raised the issue of Lord Bridgerton. There was no need to. Lady Danbury overcompensated in that regard. Kate had expected to watch Lady Danbury shift her efforts from Mr Dorset to the viscount, but instead the lady skillfully divided her attention between them. No potential suitor would be ignored. She whispered in her mama's ear, emphasizing on Lord Bridgerton's charm and status and cataloging Mr Dorset's many virtues. One time she was loud enough for Kate to hear the phrase sharing grandchildren with the dowager Lady Bridgerton.

Her mama saw Kate's nervousness while waiting for her response. Even though she agreed with Lady Danbury she did not wish to upset Kate further and reminded the old lady that it was unwise to speculate.

"As Kate has said, Lady Danbury, let's not order her trousseau just yet."

Edwina's suitors had been the next topic and her sister talked at length on each of them to allow Kate a respite.

It could be considered a miscalculation to underestimate Lady Danbury's involvement, in favor of a quick result with Lord Bridgerton but now she had no time to correct that error. By the end of the night of the Queen's ball that business would be over and done with and all concerned parties would reevaluate their goals, hopefully without including Kate in another wedding scheme.

Kate was trying to put those thoughts into order ahead of the night's events when Edwina walked in.

"Are you ready, didi?"

"Almost. Come, let me see you." Edwina took a place in front of the mirror. In their reflections they were as they had always been. Together as one. "You are lovelier than ever, bon. No one will have eyes for anyone but you tonight."

"Except for you."

"Edwina, I am six and twenty-"

"You are nothing like an old maid, Kate." Edwina said intently. "Why do you always present yourself as lesser than you truly are?"

Kate did not wish to sadden her sister right before she would have to appear before the Queen. "No more of that tonight. I promise."

"Didi-" Edwina sensed that she was being patronized and protested.

"Have you thought about whom you wish to dance with?"

"Me preferring one gentleman over another has little to do with it," Edwina replied, still nursing her discontentment. "If a gentleman asks a lady she must accept it,"

"unless she is otherwise engaged," Kate finished that thought. "I know the inflexible rule."

Unluckily for all young ladies in every ballroom across the globe, Kate was not in charge of etiquette. Only her own fate was in her hands and she was almost certain she had nothing to fear about any dancing partners that evening.

Anthony had insisted on every member of the family to be there. Even the ever busy Duke had graced them with his presence. Especially since Daphne told him which young lady Anthony was interested in.

"My short acquaintance with Miss Sharma is too short indeed for me to have any opinion on this match, but it is intriguing enough for me to want to follow it closely."

The air of mystery of that statement wasn't greatly appreciated, but Anthony did not comment on it. Hastings had his uses and the less Anthony would challenge him the more his brother-in-law would be inclined to help.

"Even Colin was dragged here," Daphne said pointing at the refreshment stand where Colin and Eloise were conversing with their mother about Eloise's successful conversation with the Queen. "And he had just arrived in town a few hours ago. He barely had enough time to shave."

"Colin wanted to support me, sister. And unlike others he did not have to be asked twice." That was meant for Benedict who pouted like a five year old, annoyed that he had to be there and could not leave at the moment of his choosing.

"That is because Colin wasn't here the past month to witness the viscount's ridiculous reasoning for looking for a wife he would not love," Benedict said to the others, speaking for the first time since they had entered the ballroom, "not to mention his incessant complaining about the debutantes he he had been interviewing. And of course, Colin missed the big finale of that gripping adventure when Anthony spent days on trying to find the woman he met-"

"Hush, you." He had made the mistake to share with Benedict the whole truth about Miss Sharma but he would not have it spread across the room.

"There's Lady Danbury and her guests." Hastings said, making the four of them turn to the entrance.

Lady Mary and Miss Edwina walked in first. Lady Danbury was next and Miss Sharma moved behind them, almost hidden. Anthony could see a glimpse of Miss Sharma's hair, a shadow of her right arm and the hem of her dress but nothing more than that. The four women walked to the Queen. Queen Charlotte smiled at the young woman and through the murmurs from the crowd a few exclamations were heard.

"It seems we have our new Diamond," Daphne said. "To match our very own emerald!" She nodded at Eloise who had just joined them.

"Stop it," Eloise begged her, fussing with her dress. "Why do these things never fit properly?"

"Because you never sit through a proper fitting, sister." Benedict teased her. Eloise always helped with his mood.

"I have done my part for the evening." After one more tug at her skirt that did little to improve her situation, Eloise went on. "It's your turn, Anthony. Shouldn't you be going to Miss Sharma?"

Yes he should. Miss Edwina received the distinction she deserved and Miss Sharma would be pleased with the success. And Anthony was pleased for her. He knew the importance of that moment for the family.

"Anthony," his mother suggested he should go and show his support.

He moved around the flock of gentlemen who had gathered around Miss Edwina, competing for her attention; Lumley, Richardson, Campbell and many more. One of them tried to push him out of the way. Anthony nearly gave him a response unfit for polite company when he saw Miss Sharma for the first time that evening. He thought he had been prepared for her but a new word had to be invented for what he felt seeing her. She was beaming with pride and he was glad to be there. Just being there to see her.

"Lord Bridgerton," she greeted him, still maintaining that look of pride and achievement that she knew he would understand.

"Miss Sharma," he bowed. He wanted to tell her how beautiful she looked, but there was a far better complement for her. "Miss Edwina will be marvelous at it. You have succeeded."

The mention of her sister almost made her turn to her but she did not. "I am still needed here, my lord."

"Of course." He would have her for the rest of the night. "I will find you later."

Though she had been looking at him that whole time, now it felt like she was really seeing him. After such a poignant moment for her family, it was an important victory to have her attention. He would hold it. "I have been anxiously waiting for this."

Her face did not relax into a smile to show she welcomed the attention of a suitor, nor did she lower her eyes to flirt with him according to decorous behavior. She looked him square in the eye and if he hadn't gotten lost in the liquid depth of her eyes he would have been sure that she was the only one rendered speechless.

"Kate," her mother called her to her side.

"I have to go," Miss Sharma said quietly and left a little quicker than he would have liked.

"A decent drink for your nerves?" Hastings suggested when Anthony returned to the family group.

"If you can find one," Anthony replied, but was pleasantly surprised when Hastings got a small flask from his pocket.

"I come prepared."

Just like Anthony thought, Hastings had his uses.

"When I asked you last year where your bride was, I never thought that I would see this."

"When you asked that question, did you think you would be marrying my sister before the season was over?"

"No. Aren't I the lucky one?"

"Make sure my sister is happy and you will continue to be lucky."

Anthony looked at the master of ceremonies to see if he was prepared to bring the night to a start. No news yet.

"Finding the right one in the one you want is a rare fortune," Hastings said with a loving look at Daphne.

"Precisely," Anthony agreed. The many reminders his mother had given him on the marital happiness his sister enjoyed usually left him restless. Now they overwhelmed him. "Miss Sharma is the perfect bride for me. She will be an excellent viscountess."

"This way of life may be new to her, but I believe she shares your competitiveness and intellect. Undoubtedly she will be a success at your side. And if we take into account that there's more between you…" If Simon Basset had been instructed to say those things, it was very well rehearsed. "Your brother did mention something about a race… "

"Benedict!"

"What?" His brother was using the flask that moment and seemed annoyed at the interruption. "You said not to tell mother. You never said not to tell Daphne."

"One race in particular," the Duke went on. "One you lost."

"Well, I lost that one but I am winning now."

"What is…" Anthony heard Benedict say. "Oh that can't be good."

"What are you talking about?"

His brother rotated him so that he would face the other side of the ball room. What he saw was like looking through blurry glass. Something that one sees but one is certain that it is not right. Thomas Dorset was in close proximity to Miss Sharma clearly not asking for directions to the nearest exit. That exchange was not one that any spectator would describe as hurried and guardedly polite. A few animated gestures from Dorset suggested that he was sharing an interesting anecdote with Miss Sharma. Her attentiveness and participation weren't missed either. Especially when he nearly touched her arm and she smiled.

Anthony became increasingly agitated by the ease with which she conversed with him as though it wasn't the first time the two of them had-

A piercing memory made him notice that Dorset wasn't paying much or any attention to Miss Edwina, the one Anthony assumed was his choice. Miss Edwina was indifferent to Dorset's obvious preference towards Miss Sharma, too deep in fascination with Lumley to notice anything else. And for Dorset to look so unbothered by Lumley it only meant the unthinkable; it was Miss Sharma that he had visited and it had been her pleasant company that he had referred to.

Two things happened next.

The master of ceremonies signaled the first dance and Dorset guided Miss Sharma to the dancefloor, having the honor of her first dance and she did not object as if she hadn't made that promise to another…

Because that was her plan all along. Anthony had played the part to perfection.

From the height of his hubris to assume that the rules were his to set straight to the moment of revelation when he proved to be the great fool.

But he was famously more than that. Anthony Bridgerton would never be just one thing even if stupidity was the epicenter. He could be a proud fool, driven by selfishness and hell bent for retaliation. He could be a hurt idiot with dramatic tendencies. He could be a possessive imbecile with powerful instincts to fight back.

Unfortunately for Miss Sharma, he would be all that combined. Because he wasn't done with her. Even if he should have been, he was in no way, sense or aspect done with her yet. Every part of him stubbornly refused the probability. He simply did not know what he would do with her. For the moment.

Currently, Thomas quick Timmy Dorset bothered him more. Theirs had not been a particularly close friendship. Since their Oxford years Dorset had always been in Anthony's peripheral vision, never in the center of his focus. He did not consider quick Timmy a worthy opponent because of the reasons that had earned him the nickname. Dorset was quick to apologize, quick to retreat, quick to submit, quick to confess and generally quick to other things. At least according to some rather embarrassing rumors that had circulated in college. Anthony never saw it necessary to antagonize him, he had often felt the urge to protect him, but he mostly ignored him.

But now his former friend, whether out of ignorance or extremely bad luck, had set himself in the throes of Anthony's vengeful nature. Anthony loved a good punch that was delivered properly, but he hadn't punched someone since Simon Basset had tested the limits of his patience. Queen Charlotte would mind terribly if her ball would turn to a brawl and acting the brute would not gain him anything but a brief satisfaction. Later, someplace else however… The first punch -the first of many- would be delivered under Dorset's left eye. Right where Anthony had been hit in his attempt to defend Dorset against the other students at Oxford during a rather silly prank to which Dorset had agreed but suddenly decided to be honest, risking getting all of them in trouble with the Proctor. Such a coward.

No spine, no conviction, no passion.

Could a man like that ever be a match for Miss Sharma? Hardly. Miss Sharma, with her sharp wit that could rival a seasoned politician and her siren's whisper that could make a man's blood run wild with desire, could not find her match in Thomas Dorset.

And yet Anthony's eyes did not deceive him. Quick Timmy had been Miss Sharma's choice.

Jealousy sliced through Anthony as he moved along the dancefloor, following her where her steps would take her. He remained as consumed by a lust for her as he had ever been. It angered him. Even more so, when he was ridiculously ravenous for one more look at her face even if it was to see her smiling at another man. It was irrational that he endured that scene for as long as he did.

Fucking pathetic was what it was.

But his persistence was rewarded when he realized that she would let her gaze skip over Dorset to find something, someone, in the crowd. Suspended in time, Anthony waited to see what she'd do when she would find him. What would she do when she would find him still there, looking at her, wanting her, unable to give up on her?

There was triumph in her eyes and a smirk was twitching at the corner of her mouth. She was entitled to it because she had bested him but it was unfair how irresistible she was. It nearly made him cross the distance and show her just how much.

Perhaps the scandal would have decided everything for them. Strangely it had worked for Daphne.

What stopped him was that he wanted her to choose him. He looked for a sign. The blurry vision began to clear, when she searched for him again and she was impatient to find him. It was a faint change but her determination to convince him that she was where she wanted to be grew weaker, giving Anthony the chance to unclench his jaw and savor the thought that the man who had the honor of her dance had nothing else of hers. Dorset did not have her attention, her thoughts, her interest. He held Miss Sharma but it was just as good as attempting a grasp of her reflection in a lake.

Now Anthony knew what he would do with her.

He needed his brother and only then did he realize that Benedict was talking to him.

"I was asking what happened, brother. You said that you would have her first dance-"

"Not for the first time you remember the wrong details, brother."

"What?"

"I said I would have a dance with Miss Sharma," Anthony said, forming a plan.

"If you say so," his brother replied.

"You will dance with her first."

"What? Why?"

"Because I am telling you to."

Benedict ran his hand over his face, murmuring, "every year the same nonsense…"

"Hastings, you're next after that." Anthony continued with his orders, meeting less resistance with his brother-in-law. "Make sure you get there before anyone else has the chance."

"I suppose-"

"Not Colin too?" Benedict mocked, but Colin would certainly be utilized.

"Get Colin, Hastings."

"I haven't been introduced to her yet."

"Get the master of ceremonies to introduce you, Benedict."

"What am I supposed to speak to her about?" Benedict demanded.

"Speak of the weather or the number of couples during the set, I care not. Just keep her occupied until she asks for me."

"Oh, will she?"

Anthony knew that Benedict was right to be confused. But there they were. One confused, the other desperate.

"She will."

…

Kate had no way to interpret the viscount's behavior. He hadn't stormed out of the room. No scene, no burst of anger. He was just there. Always. Every time she would look, there he was, looking at her, a library of confusing contradictions if she ever saw one. Each time it would take longer for her to draw away from his stare and return to whatever Mr Dorset was telling her.

The pattern was repeated until the music stopped. Her second dance with Mr Dorset had ended and so had their time together for that evening. One more dance and it would be a public statement that some attachment or understanding was forming between them and Kate would have none of that. Mr Dorset left for his next partner and reminded her of the Races at Ascot where he would be escorting her.

"Of course," she told him and left.

No sign of the viscount anywhere in the room which she did not know if it was good or not. For now she would look for her family, listen to Lady Danbury's lecture over rejecting Lord Bridgerton, accept her punishment and go home to rest.

Out of nowhere, the master of ceremonies approached her with a man taking his steps heavily towards her. A Mr Benedict Bridgerton had the introduction he needed and asked for a dance with a convincing smile. That Bridgerton was not the one she expected, but he still was an impressive trap. She could have refused a partner if it had been the beginning of the night. It would have made a bad impression but she could get away with it by not dancing at all for the rest of the night. Alas, she had already danced and she wasn't currently engaged with another partner so she had to agree with whomever asked her unless that someone was objectionable. Being a Bridgerton was considered anything but objectionable.

Mr Bridgerton was a skilled dancer and his easy conversation helped time pass quickly if not pleasantly. She almost forgot he was the brother of the infernal viscount and his invitation to a dance was no coincidence. Almost. From time to time she would catch him looking over his shoulder, fidgeting as though he was anticipating interruption.

"Are the Queen's balls notorious settings for uproars?"

"What a peculiar thing to say, Miss Sharma."

"Forgive me, Mr Bridgerton, but you look as if you fear an attack by a mob, armed with pitchforks."

"Not by a mob, no," he let out a small laugh.

"Very comforting."

Benedict Bridgerton seemed to be the sort of man made for effortless and uncomplicated circumstances. Life appeared to have indulged him with the notable exception of that night. That night he looked like he would have much better liked to be somewhere else. They had that in common.

The music ended and Kate readied herself to say goodnight. She had not discovered the reason for that dance but experience had taught her to leave an uncomfortable situation early.

"May I have the next one too?" He did not wait for a reply, grabbing her dancing card and scribbling his name down.

"I see you match my sense of peculiarity, Mr Bridgerton."

"It is that sort of night, Miss Sharma."

"Let us just dance then."

They did and even managed to break the awkward stretches of silence with a smile or a nod of acknowledgement. When the moment of her release from him had arrived, guilt was painted on Mr Bridgerton's handsome face.

"Please do not think ill of me."

It was a perplexing request. What reason did she have to-

The Duke had arrived. When he opened his mouth to ask for a dance, Kate was far less surprised than she should have been.

Of course.

The Duke was more confident in his mission and perhaps a little too entertained by it. They talked very briefly about what it meant to be mentored by Lady Danbury and shared a laugh or two on how intimidating she could be even for the most bravehearted.

Naturally once the first dance was over he asked for a second.

"I would rather see this farce come to an end."

"That may be a little more difficult than you think," he said, not objecting to her bluntness.

"Oh I know," she reassured him. "If you could be so kind as to walk with me to where Mr Bridgerton is standing, I would be grateful."

"After you," he motioned for her to walk.

Mr Bridgerton was accompanied by a young man who had all the characteristics of the Bridgerton family. He had to be Colin Bridgerton, newly arrived from the continent.

"Miss Sharma," Benedict Bridgerton said eagerly, "may I present to you my younger brother. Mr Colin Bridgerton."

"Miss Sharma," Colin Bridgerton behaved with impeccable manners but Kate did not appreciate it. "Delighted to make your acquaintance. Could I-"

"Allow me to guess. You wish to ask me to dance."

"I was in fact," he asked, resisting the laughter that was rising in him. "How did you know?" He was much better at that game than his elder brother.

"Don't-" Benedict Bridgerton rightfully warned him. "Just-"

"An educated guess." Kate gave Colin Bridgerton a pointed smile.

"Ah, I-"

"Miss Sharma, we-"

"You have been successfully playing the puppets, Mr Bridgerton," she interrupted their excuses, "but I think it is time to cut your strings. Where's the puppet master?"

"Right here." The infernal viscount appeared, startling Kate.

"I should have suspected you would appear at the sound of the word master."

"Yes," he replied with a devilish grin. "You should have."

"You do not need us here anymore," the Duke said and the older Mr Bridgerton pulled his younger brother by the elbow.

"No?" Colin Bridgerton asked. "It was just getting interesting!" His expressed curiosity wasn't enough for the other two to allow him his entertainment so he departed from the scene.

The viscount turned so that he would fully face her. "You still owe me a dance."

"What a petty debt collector you are, my lord."

"A debt is a debt." He gave her a little shrug and offered her his hand.

Kate ignored it.

"It was well done."

"A praise? Really?"

Kate placed her gloved fingers in his palm. She wanted to hear the rest of it so she accepted the dance. As they walked she felt his thumb applying the tiniest pressure on her ring finger.

"Why not? Credit where credit is due. It is a fine rule of conduct, Miss Sharma."

"I would have preferred some sign of acceptance."

"What you would have preferred is concession."

"Which you refuse. This is the reason for that procession of brothers, is it not?"

He was pleased with himself. "You did not want to dance with me. I had to watch you dance with that… old friend of mine but I did not have to watch you dance with anyone else that could be a threat."

"A threat? To what? This stupid pursuit you only insist on out of spite?"

"Interest is not spite, Miss Sharma."

"Spite is not interest, my lord."

"We can debate semantics, Miss Sharma or you can simply answer me this. Did you expect me to give up?"

They had raised their voices so much that the couple nearest to them appeared to be keen on hearing that conversation so Kate dropped her voice.

"Who wouldn't?"

"I am not the type, I am afraid. I have had my lesson, though. You are a formidable woman who knows how to fight for what she wants. The rest," he said the word with a hint of anger that was implied for Mr Dorset, "is just noise that I ignore."

There was no reasoning with him. "I shall speak no more to you, my lord."

"No, please tell me. Is Lady Danbury the one who favors Mr Dorset for you or is it your mother?"

Shameless.

"Come now, Lord Bridgerton. When one is facing defeat due to losing strategy, one does not seek help from the opposing General."

He seemed to appreciate the warfare analogy. "You may have won the first battle, Miss Sharma. But the war is far from over."

"This was no battle, my lord."

"No," he laughed. "This was you showing off your troops. And what an exhibition that was! You staged your two part performance most efficiently. Now tell me-"

"Is there no end to these questions?"

"Do they annoy you? I apologize, but I must insist. They keep me focused on the steps, otherwise my hand slips." The warmth of her skin was scalding through the thin dress as his hand wandered lazily on her back. She cleared her throat, only a little relieved by the fact that he too was affected by the contact as he avoided her eyes.

"Ask away," she allowed.

"Tonight was meant to dishearten me. Reasonable enough." What the viscount did from the moment she danced with Thomas Dorset, did not signify that he had a reasonable reaction, of course, but it was admirable he could play the part of the reasonable man. "But you could have simply accepted my invitation and then everything would have turned out the same. Which brings us to that moment at the Dunbury house… That was something different. Why?"

"A bluff for a bluff, my lord. It was poetic justice."

"And the honest answer is…?"

"I do not understand what you imply."

"Miss Sharma…"

"If you have something to say, my lord, trust yourself to find the words."

"Very well." He did not like the challenge which meant that he would bite back. "You wanted to do it. In the beginning to see simply if you could do it. You couldn't resist, Miss Sharma, but drive me to the edge. And then you went on to see if you would actually be satisfied with the result."

She gave no response because she had none.

"All I will say is that I am pleased to try anything you might want to test in the future. You will not find a more willing student than me."

To that she had to respond. "That is most inappropriate."

"It is as appropriate as it will ever be between us, Miss Sharma."

Silence followed until the music spun to an end.

"As predicted," Kate said, "you didn't earn another dance."

"That means securing tomorrow's dinner was a smart move indeed."

"Tomorrow's dinner? You do not insist on it, surely. After tonight your mother will not wish-"

"I had the good sense to not tell her that you had promised me a dance under false pretenses." It was intended to be mentioned in a light mood but Kate could see how close to the surface his agitation was throbbing. "Fortunate, isn't it?" His hasty smile did not release his tension. "For all she knows we only found each other a little later than anticipated."

"We will not have dinner together, my lord. Not tomorrow, not ever."

"It is imprudent, Miss Sharma, to cancel the plan so late. What reason would you give?"

"A simple one. I will tell Lady Danbury that it is a waste of my time. I advise you to do the same with your mother. Between them they can pretend that the invitation had never happened."

"It is not a waste of our time." He sounded serious for the first time. "I will prove it to you, Miss Sharma. We can be so much more than an annoyance for one another, if you let us."

"Do you really believe that?"

He must have depended a lot on his following answer because he took his time to speak. There wasn't enough space between them beyond what was dictated by etiquette and yet somehow it disappeared with a whisper. "You must know that I do."

A light brush on her knuckles made her look at her hand. She found it in his where he held it for a moment that lasted longer than a typical gesture of that kind. Slowly he lifted it to his lips for a kiss. His arresting eyes found hers and she wondered what he saw in them, for he smiled before he left her.

A maddening beast of a feeling, indeed.

She entered a room where she had not been before. Barefoot, only in her nightgown, she walked on scattered flower petals that were leading her to a canopy bed. It stood alone in the middle of the huge empty space. A soft breeze blew through the window and the petals started dancing around her feet. There was no fire in there, no light and yet she felt no cold. Her skin was burning. Her heart was beating faster and faster, listening to the low voice that was calling her.

"Kathani…."

From the four poles in the corners of the bed, layers upon layers of silk were hanging. She lifted one veil to find another beneath it. Indigo like the sea, bright pink, rich yellow, an almost liquid emerald. It was what she imagined moving through clouds would feel like.

Then a pair of hands caught her. She was held gently and she was pulled through the silk curtains. The last veil, one in the deepest red, covered her entirely as though she was draped in it. It slipped over her head as she climbed on the bed to find him.

"I have been waiting for you."

The viscount held her and she came alive. He started kissing her neck, moving toward her mouth at a pace that quickened her breathing. Every kiss was branding her as his. "For years, I waited for you."

"I…" She inhaled his desire and let it be a part of her. It would live inside her and it would bloom like a flower. "Oh…"

"Tell me."

"I want to, but… I cannot..." She said, her thoughts in disarray. Only instinct led her, guiding his hands where she wanted to be touched.

"Keep showing me, then. Show me, Kathani…"

With her palms on his chest she pushed him on the mattress and climbed on top of him, her gown pooled around her hips.

"Like that… keep showing me, Kathani…."

It was the dream of his touch that made her wake up soaked with sweat and a moan on her lips. That feverish dream would have made the widower she had met on the boat shrivel with timidity. That stupid philanderer who made her the indecent proposal would… Oh well, he would be busy keeping notes.

She fell back on her pillow into which she nearly screamed her frustration.

Kate still believed -not very firmly anymore, it had to be said, because her confidence to resist him had suffered a severe blow- that she could be rid of him before these feelings would turn to something far more dangerous than dreaming of him in her bed. However, no idea as to how she could achieve that noble goal came to her mind, even though she spent the night staring at the ceiling.

She felt she was adrift in the middle of the sea, no land in sight yet.