father a handsome settlement in exchange for my hand.'
Bainbridge muttered an oath under his breath.
She hadn't heard him; her eyes had glazed over. 'He made a great fuss over me in the beginning, buying me silk saris, jewels, all sorts of trinkets. But after about three months, when the novelty had worn off, he went in search of other conquests and left me at home to wonder where he'd gotten himself off to this time.'
'You must have been very lonely,' Bainbridge said softly.
'Not at first. I was too busy adjusting to this new life of mine. I'd gone from being a rather sheltered young girl to the wife of a prominent merchant, in a place that teemed with color and noise and stench. George would go off on tiger hunts and other such excursions, which would take him away for weeks at a time. I used that time to explore my surroundings and to learn more about this strange new world.
'Of course, when George discovered I'd been acting with what he called too much independence for a simple-minded female, he quickly curtailed my activities 'for my own good,' as he put it. I was not on a Grand Tour, he told me, but his wife, and I should begin to act like it.' She laughed, a high, brittle sound. 'Thankfully, he was never at home for long.'
'Is that why you never had children?'
He expected her to take umbrage at that highly impertinent question, but instead she blushed, and a fresh barrage of tears threatened her composure. He offered her his handkerchief, but she waved it away.
'I miscarried a child about a year into our marriage,' she whispered. 'There, Nicholas. There is my dark and painful secret. George said it was probably for the best, but that I would have to try harder next time. The next morning he went off on another hunt.'
'That bastard,' Bainbridge growled through his clenched teeth.
With a listless hand she picked up another berry, then returned it to the bowl. 'Looking back, I suppose I should have been relieved.'
This time it was his turn. 'I'm sorry,' he said. 'That must have caused you a great deal of pain.'
She nodded. 'Yes… So much that I thought I would run mad. Once I recovered, I found I desperately needed a diversion, something to occupy my mind. Since I shared very few interests with the other English ladies in Calcutta, I had to look elsewhere. Then one morning I heard my maid, Lakshmi, talking to her husband in their native tongue, and I decided I wanted to learn. We had so many Hindu servants, and I thought it could only be beneficial that I learn to speak their language.
'George never knew what I was doing; as long as I kept house for him and presided over his endless balls and dinner parties, that kept him happy. Over the next several years I learned to read Hindi as well as speak it; then I discovered the Ramayana, written by the poet Tulss in the sixteenth century. I'd seen parts of it performed in puppet plays, and that made me want to read the entire epic. Once I had read it, I was determined to translate it into English, and that has sustained me until now.'
'Is that what the dowager meant when she said you had been working on it long enough?'
She nodded. 'Books were my most constant companions as a child; in India, they were my salvation.'
'Salvation through literature,' Bainbridge mused. 'I know a few Oxford dons who would go into spasms of rapture at the very concept.'
She ducked her head, her face hidden by the brim of her drab bonnet. 'I have relied upon my books ever since. You will think me craven for it, but I do not know how else I would have survived.'
He shook his head. 'I do not think you craven, but you must know when to set your shield aside.'
'I beg your pardon?'
'You cannot hide behind your books forever, Kit. Is that your idea of freedom?'
She blinked. 'Well, no… I suppose not. But I haven't been hiding.'
'Have you not?' he countered. 'Going around in those dowdy gowns, not wanting anyone to notice you?'
Her eyes sparked with anger. 'W-what? How dare you!'
'I dare, my dear, because I should hate to see such loveliness and spirit go to waste. What do you want from your life?'
She laughed, but there was no mirth in it. 'The dowager has asked me the very same thing.'
'And?'
Kit glared at him, then took a strawberry from the bowl and bit into it. 'What does it matter to you, my lord? Once our bargain is complete, you shall have what you want.'
'But after you and I part company, Kit-what then? Will you go back to your cave and cover yourself once more in sackcloth and ashes?'
'Enough!' she cried. 'Why do you insist on provoking me?'
'Why do you insist on denying yourself any true contentment?'
'I am content. And you're doing it again, my lord.'
'Nicholas,' he reminded her with a grin.
'Nicholas,' she agreed with impatience. 'Now please stop asking me these insufferable questions. You are not entitled to know what is in my heart.'
'I think I already know,' he murmured. He ignored her startled expression, and continued. 'You've been hurt, Kit, hurt and disappointed by the very men who were supposed to protect and care for you. Now that you are on your own, you have chosen to insulate yourself behind a wall of books and call it freedom.'
She paled. 'No,' she whispered.
'Then what would you call it?'
'I… I don't know.' She seized her lower lip between her teeth.
He leaned in closer to her. 'Kit, all your life you have run away from the things that made you unhappy. No more of that, remember? It's time you faced your fears.'
'Stop trying to tell me how to live my life,' she snapped.
He shrugged. 'Then stop hiding and live it.'
Her mouth opened, closed, and opened again, like that of a fish caught out of water. He stared at those berry-stained lips, lush and red and ripe, and another wave of awareness swept through him. The breeze blew tawny wisps of her hair onto her forehead; he resisted the urge to reach out and brush them back. A hint of her perfume grazed his senses. Lord, how had he let this woman affect him so? He had not thought that the strange paradox of worldliness and sheltered inexperience would make for such a powerful aphrodisiac.
'Do you want that last strawberry?' he asked, all innocence.
She flicked a glance down at the bowl. 'No, you may have it.'
He gave her his most charming smile. 'Would you hand it to me? Please?'
Kit hesitated, then held it out to him. He gently grasped her wrist, then leaned down and enveloped the berry, and her fingertips, with his lips. His tongue brushed warm and wet against her fingers, licking the juice from them before she yelped and yanked away her hand.
He savored the fruit, its flavor mingled with the taste of her skin. 'Think about what you want,' he repeated, his voice low and intent. 'And if that happens to be me, then I will be happy to oblige you.'
Kit gaped, then pulled away and struggled to her feet. She looked down at him, her face filled with indignation. 'If you put as much energy into convincing the duke as you do into seducing me, my lord, then we are certain to meet with success. At this moment, however, I cannot help but wonder where your priorities lie.'
He relaxed back onto his elbows. 'I shall keep my part of the bargain,' he assured her.
'See that you do.' She turned and gathered her skirts. 'Now if you will excuse me, I must return to the house.'
'All right, Kit. I will let you go, for now. But remember… you cannot run away forever.'
She straightened, glared at him, then marched up the hill without so much as a backward glance.
The marquess stared after her; a thoughtful frown pulled at his brow. Wexcombe was wrong about this woman; he was sure of that now. No one could pretend the pain he had seen on her face just moments before. She was no adventuress, nor did she have any designs on the dowager's fortune. She did not even know what she wanted from herself.
So now what was he going to do? He didn't know how long he could keep this up; it would take all his self- control to sustain this pretense and still keep his hands off her. God, the more he touched her, the more of her he wanted. He should stop this charade right now and tell her the truth-any honorable man would-
No.
