said Cameron, as she crossed the clearing and handed over his shirt. “My sartorial eccentricities are well known in London, but I have yet to ride down Piccadilly Street bare-chested.” The thought of all the sophisticated Town beauties ogling his body momentarily diverted her attention. Her stomach clenched, but she made herself laugh. “No doubt the ladies wouldn’t mind.” Turning away with a wordless shrug, he tucked the shirttails into his breeches and pulled on his coat. All at once, the magic of just moments ago gave way to embarrassment. Awkward and unsure of how to go on, she looked down at her rumpled skirts, suddenly feeling like a naïve country chit. Was there a protocol for taking leave of an illicit lover? “Sophie?” She looked up to find that he had moved close—close enough for her to see that his eyes had clouded. “I regret—” “Oh, please, Cam,” she interrupted. “If you start to apologize, I swear I shall stick your steel lock probe right through your liver.”
