Mary Putney - The China Bride

Kyle smiled faintly. "I kept hoping you'd use your freedom to do something interesting, like travel to China."

Dominic laughed. "That was your dream, not mine. Amazing to think how many years I envied you for being born first. But I was the lucky one, wasn't I? I grew up without the constant pressure you had to endure."

Wrexham had closely monitored his heir's studies and behavior, personally wielding the whip when Kyle didn't live up to the earl's standards. It had been difficult, yet Kyle had borne the pain stoically. He'd also taken pride in the fact that sometimes he'd been able to deflect his father's ire from Dominic. As the elder, he'd considered that his duty, and he'd always done his duty.

Dominic said thoughtfully, "I've sometimes wondered-if I'd been born first, would I be you and you'd be me? I mean, would I have been the responsible twin, while you were the rebellious one? Or are the differences between us so innate that our temperaments would be the same even if we'd been born in reverse order?"

"Damned if I know, Dom. And trying to work that out will undoubtedly give me a headache tonight."

"Any headaches you have will be from brandy." Dominic got to his feet, smothering a yawn. "Which is putting me to sleep. I'll see you in the morning."

"Thanks for coming," Kyle said quietly.

Dominic briefly rested a hand on Kyle's shoulder. "You can also think yourself into a headache wondering about Troth. Perhaps it would be simplest just to ask yourself if you're better off with her, or without her."

After his brother left, Kyle set aside his brandy, no longer interested in drinking himself into oblivion. Dominic's last question was no help. Though Kyle might be better off with Troth than without her, the reverse was not true.

What had his first year or so with Constancia been like? There had been erotic intoxication, of course, and not only because he'd been a virgin and she was a courtesan exquisitely skilled in pleasing men. Their lovemaking had always contained a powerful emotional element that went beyond the intense physical pleasure, though it had taken him a decade to recognize how deeply he had loved her.

Dominic was right that he shouldn't compare his mature love for Constancia with the turbulent feelings he had for Troth. With Constancia, there had been a deep sense of peace and belonging. Though he desired Troth as he'd never thought he could desire a woman again, the foundation of the relationship wasn't peace, but a raw neediness that he hated to acknowledge because it might destroy them both. He would come to despise himself for his weakness, while she would despise him for clinging to her so desperately. That did not fit any sane definition of love.

But if he was too much a coward to explore the possibilities with Troth now, he'd never forgive himself.

More than that, he wanted her-wanted her more than he'd ever wanted anything or anyone in his life. Winning her would not be easy; it might not even be possible.

The haze of illness and depression that had paralyzed him had finally lifted. Perhaps he was not so needy, not so desperate, that he would inevitably drive Troth away.

There was only one way to find out.

« ^ »

Melrose

The Scottish border country

"I've come home, Father." Troth laughed aloud as the wind caught her cloak, whipping it out like a dark banner as she explored the ruins of Dryburgh Abbey. She felt deep satisfaction at fulfilling the promise she had made on her father's grave.

The abbey was one of the childhood haunts he'd described to her, and she could almost feel him beside her. Repeated battles between Scots and English had turned the religious foundation into roofless, battered buildings where grazing sheep trimmed the grass to velvety elegance. The setting made her feel like the heroine of one of the Gothic romances she'd read at Warfield.

Somewhere in the ruins, there should be a villain waiting to assault the innocent maiden. At the last minute, just before the villain could have his evil way with her, the hero would appear and prove his love in manly combat. Of course, Troth was no innocent maiden, and she was quite capable of overcoming any villains without aid, but being rescued by a handsome, adoring hero certainly had romantic appeal.

She paused respectfully at the grave of Sir Walter Scott, who'd lived nearby and been buried here the year before. Her father had known the writer as a boy. During the winter she'd devoured Scott's dashing historical tales of Scottish love and adventure. Scott had chosen a pleasant place to rest his bones for eternity, though today it seemed devoid of either villains or heroes.

Or was it? Through an empty window she caught a glimpse of a dark-clothed male figure exploring the ruins. The fellow rather reminded her of Kyle, but many men had done that on her trip north. She was haunted by the ghost of a man who wasn't dead.

If he were here, what role would he play, villain or hero? Smiling at her fancies, she reversed course to avoid the stranger, preferring solitude. She didn't need company. For now, it was enough to be in Scotland. There had been the usual curious stares at her odd appearance, but Scots had a deep natural courtesy, and most became downright friendly after they heard her accent.

Deciding to look at the river that ran behind the abbey, she left the church-and almost jumped out of her skin when she found herself on the verge of colliding with the other sightseer. Dear gods, it was Kyle!

She stared, heart pounding. "My lord?"

He fell back a step. "In person. Sorry. I didn't mean to startle you."

Getting a grip on her imagination, she said coolly, "Have you come to retrieve your carriage? "

"I've come to see you." His intent gaze was disquieting.

"How did you find me?"

"It's not hard to track a coach with a crest on the doors, especially since you once mentioned that your father's family lived near Melrose. As to finding you here, the owner of the inn where you're staying said you were walking to the abbey, so I thought I'd follow the path here myself. It's a good hike."

"But why?" she said helplessly.

"To talk to you." He scanned the ruins. "Are you ready to return to Melrose, or do you wish to spend longer here?"

"I've seen enough for today." It would be impossible to resume sight-seeing now that Kyle had appeared.

He offered his arm, and she automatically accepted, unable to prevent herself from enjoying his company. After they'd walked a stretch of path in silence, he said, "Your Scottish accent is already stronger. Is the country living up to your expectations?"

"It is indeed." She raised her head, feeling the fresh breeze on her face. "In a triumph of breeding over upbringing, I love the cool air and the ever-changing skies. It's like… like coming home. The shadows and light and hills are exactly as I dreamed. I feel as if I must have lived here in other lifetimes."

"Perhaps you have."

"Some Buddhism has definitely rubbed off on you."

"I think it has. Certainly some places call to our hearts. It was like that for me when I saw my folio of Chinese prints; I felt that China was part of me, and that I'd never be happy unless I visited there."

"Your passion had the advantage of making you less narrow-minded than most men of your class." She glanced at him, remembering their journey to Hoshan. "Did you want to stay in China?"

"If I'd had the choice, I'd have become a China trader like your father, spending most of my time in Macao and Canton," he said thoughtfully. "However, since my responsibilities are in Britain, I'm reasonably content now that I've had my visit."

"If you've learned how to be content, the last year hasn't been wasted. When I met you, the word 'restless' is what came to mind."