SILK WICKEDNESS 9

When she reseated herself, the jellyfish was still oozing into her legs regardless. She could still feel his hands encircling her wrists, and it made her feel like woozy eggshells.

‘The flight’s around ten on Friday morning,’ he said crisply. ‘Have you got suitable clothes? It’ll be in the eighties or nineties, but the kind of things you’d wear in the Med are right out, except on the beach. You need to keep your knees and shoulders covered, and anything tight around your . . . hips is right out too.’ His eyes flickered to the V of her sweater. ‘Ditto anything low-cut.’

Something weird suddenly lurched in her stomach. Christmas! He must have got a right old eyeful while I was mopping his sweater! Never mind the carpetl

This reaction startled her a good deal. So what if he had? Why in heaven’s name was she fluttering like something out of a daft Victorian novel? i Oh i Ludy fetch the smelling saltsV ‘ Whyy dearest Claudia } what is amiss?' i Ohy sister y I fear Lord Filthyrich just glim