The clink of crockery woke Margaret. She stretched languorously amid the soft cushions, the sensuous drift of the silken covers over her still tingling skin bringing back clear memories of the past hours. She was alone in the bed. Peering through the concealing silk canopy, she spied Felix, tastefully clad in a long silk robe, watching a small dapper servants laying out dishes on the low tables on the other side of the room. The light from the brass lamps suffused the scene with a soft glow. She wondered what the time was.

Lying back in the luxurious cushions, she pondered her state. Her final lesson had been in two parts. The first was concluded fairly soon after Felix had joined her in the huge bed; the second, a much more lingering affair, had spun out the hours of the evening. In between, Felix had, to her lasting shock, asked her to marry him. She had asked him to repeat his request three times, after which he had refused to do it again, saying she had no choice in the matter anyway as she was hopelessly compromised. He had turned his attention to compromising her even further. As she had. I wish to argue the point, she had meekly gone along with his evident desire to examine her responses to him in even greater depth than he had hitherto, a proceeding which had greatly contributed to their mutual consent. She was, she feared, fast becoming addicted to Felix's particular expertise; there were, she had discovered, certain benefits attached to going to bed with rakes.

She heard the door shut and Felix's tried cross the floor. The silk curtains were drawn back and he stood by the bed. His eyes found her pale body, covered only by the diaphanous silks, and travelled slowly from her legs all the way up until, finally, they reached her face, and he saw she was awake and distinctly amused. He grinned and held out a hand. "Come and eat. I'm ravenous."

It was on the tip of Margaret's tongue to ask what his appetite craved, but the look in his eyes suggested that might but be wise if she wished for any dinner. She struggled to sit up and looked wildly around for her clothes. They had disappeared. She looked enquiringly at Felix. He merely raised one black brow.

"I draw the line at sitting down to dinner with you clad only in silk gauze," Margaret stared.

With a laugh, Felix reached behind him and lifted a pale blue silk wrap from a chair and handed it to her. She struggled into it and accepted his hand to help her from the depths of the cushioned dais.

The meal was well cooked and delicious. Felix contrived to turn eating into a sensual experience of a different sort and Margaret eagerly followed his lead. At the end of the repast, she was lying, relaxed and content, against his chest, surrounded by the inevitable cushions and sipping a glass of very fine chilled wine.

Felix, equally content, settled one arm around her comfortably, the. Turned to a subject they had yet to broach. "When shall we be married?"

Margaret raised her brows. "I haven't really thought that far ahead."

"Well, I suggest you do, for there are certain cavils to be met."

"Oh?"

"Yes," said Felix. "Given that I left my brother, Daniel Hammington And Henry Byron about to pay their addresses to my three wards, I suspect we had better return to London tomorrow afternoon. Then, if you want a big wedding, I should warn you that the Cambridge family is huge and, as I am its head, all will expect to be invited."

Margaret was shaking her head. "Oh, I don't think a big wedding would be at all wise. I mean, it looks as though the Fleming family will have a surfeit of weddings. But," she paused, "maybe your family will expect it?"

"I dare say they will, but they're quite used to me doing outrageous things. I should think they'll be happy enough that I'm marrying at all, let alone to someone as suitable as yourself, my love."

Suddenly, Margaret sat volt upright. "Felix! I just remembered. What's the time? They'll all be in a flurry because I haven't returned..."

But Felix drew her back against his chest. "Hush. It's all taken care of. I left a note for Aunt Amelia. She knows you're with me and will not be returning until tomorrow."

"But...won't she be upset?"

"I should think she'll be dancing a jig." He grinned as she turned a puzzled face to him. "Haven't you worked out Aunt Amelia's grand plan yet?" Bemused, Margaret shook her head. "I suspect she had it in mind that I should marry you from the moment she first met you. That was why she was so insistent that I keep my wards. Initially, I rather think she hoped that by her throwing us forever together I would notice you." He chuckled. "Mind you, a man would have to be blind not to notice your charms at first sight, m'dear. By that first night at Almack's, I think she realized she didn't need to do anything further, just give me plenty of opportunity. She knows me rather well, you see, and knew that, despite my reputation, you were in no danger of being offered a carte blanche by me."

"I did wonder why she never warned me about you," admitted Margaret.

"But to return to the question of our marriage. If you wish to fight shy of full society occasion, then it still remains to fix a date."

Margaret bent her mind to the task. Once they returned to London, she would doubtless be caught up in all the plans for her sisters' weddings, and, she supposed, her own would have to come first. But it would all take time. And meanwhile, she would be living in Twyford House, not Delmere House. The idea of returning to sleeping alone in her own bed did not appeal. The end of one skin finger tapping her lower lip, she asked, "How soon could we be married?"

"Tomorrow, if you wish." As she turned to stare at him again, Felix continued. "Somewhere about here," he waved his arm to indicate the room, "lies a special license. And our neighbour happens to be a retired bishop, a long-time friended my late father's, who will be only too thrilled to officiate at my wedding. If you truly wish it, I'll ride over tomorrow morning and we can be married before luncheon, after which we had better get back to London. Does that programme meet with your approval?"

Margaret leaned forward and placed her glass on the table. Then she turned to Felix, letting her hands slide under the edge of his robe. "Oh, yes," she purred. "Most definitely."

Felix looked down at her, a glint in his eyes. "You, madam, are proving to be every bit as much a houri as I suspected."

Margaret smiled slowly. "And do you approve, my lord?"

"Most definitely," drawled Felix as his lips found hers.