The China Bride

minded, and she was on her way to the Great North Road half an hour later. I managed to persuade her to return, but I think the incident convinced her that there was no hope of a lasting relationship.'

'So battered and bruised, metaphorically if not physically, she decided it was time to part. But if she's half as miserable as you are, it may be worth making one last try. Love seldom falls neatly into one's lap. Usually it must be won the hard way.'

Kyle said haltingly, 'I don't know if I have the courage to try and fail.'

'Would failure be harder than wondering forever if you might have been able to have a true marriage with Troth? She is unique.'

'According to you, that would be true of any woman.'

'Touche. All people are unique, but some are more unique than others. You'll never find another woman like Troth.'

He knew that, but it didn't mean that he had the right to keep her. 'You asked what Troth wants. What do you want, Dom?'

'Fifty more years of what I have now,' his brother said promptly. 'Meriel, my children and someday grandchildren, the knowledge that what I do as a landowner and magistrate makes a real difference to the people of Warfield and Shropshire. I'm a country squire at heart, Kyle. You'll need more to hold your attention, but politics should do the trick nicely. A chance for you to do the right thing on a larger scale.'

His brother understood him well-sitting in the House of Lords and helping to shape the destiny of his homeland was one part of his inheritance that he'd always looked forward to. 'Remember how I promised you Bradshaw Manor if you'd take my place with my mad fiancee?'

'It's not something I'd forget, since your crack-brained scheme changed my life.'

'I intended to give you Bradshaw anyhow. I'd always planned on that, since it was the only piece of property I owned outright.'

Dominic's brows arched. 'When we were boys I assumed that you'd sign over a middling-size estate someday, but we were at loggerheads for so long I decided you'd changed your mind. But if you did intend to give me Bradshaw Manor, why the devil didn't you do it sooner instead of leaving me bored in London for years?'

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.

Chapter 38

« ^ »

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!