Meriel swung onto her own mount easily. "You mustn't be upset about the bond between Dominic and Kyle," she said gravely. "It takes nothing away from you or me. I think their closeness has made them better able to love their wives."

Troth swallowed hard, not sure whether to be glad or sorry that Meriel was so adept at reading minds. "Perhaps their bond takes nothing from you, but Dominic loves you. With Kyle and me… it's different."

Meriel started up the drive, leading Dominic's mount. "Different, yes. You never had the chance to know each other in normal circumstances." She glanced at Troth. "But you love him, and he would never have suggested marriage if he didn't care deeply for you. For now, he's exhausted from illness and travel. Have patience."

Troth had no other choice. But as she headed up the drive, she remembered bleakly her dream of her husband miraculously returning from the dead and sweeping her into his arms. Such a fool she'd been.

The marriage contracted with honorable intentions had gone disastrously wrong.

Kyle awoke gasping from a nightmare of Wu Chong's prison to find a warm female body lying beside him. The light of the bedside candle showed a cloud of dark hair spilling onto his shoulder. Fully dressed, Troth lay beside him on top of the covers. She must have been sitting up with the invalid and decided to rest for a bit.

It took every remaining shred of will not to roll over and put his arms around her. Not from passion-desire had died in Feng-tang. Yet he still had a weak, desperate craving to cling to her for comfort, especially when images of horror racked his mind.

On the long voyage home to England, he'd had ample time to think about Troth. If their marriage had been unquestionably legal, they'd have had no choice but to make the best of the situation, but the legality was doubtful at best. That meant it was his duty to release her from an obligation that had never been intended to last more than a few hours. She wanted-and deserved-freedom to choose her own life.

Yet now that she had been publicly and privately accepted as Lady Maxwell, it would be damnably difficult to undo their union without a scandal. Kyle owed Troth an unblemished name as well as freedom.

He'd hoped not to find her at Warfield. Ideally, she'd made it safely to England, brought the news of his death to Dominic, then gone on her way to Scotland, so he wouldn't be confronted with the temptation of seeing her again.

He'd been stunned when he saw her with Dominic and Meriel. In her riding habit she'd looked so beautiful and English that at first he hadn't recognized her. Shy Jin Kang and gallant Mei-Lian had vanished completely. If not for her wonderful Oriental eyes, he'd have thought she was some fashionable friend of Meriel's.

He pulled a quilt folded up at the foot of the bed over her. While the day had been springlike, night was definitely wintry. As he draped the quilt over her, he had a vivid recollection of her laughing as they made love. But that passion and playfulness seemed to have happened to another man. Now he was a stranger to her, and to himself.

Though he'd tried not to disturb Troth, her eyes fluttered open and she regarded him with unmistakable wariness. "Dominic stayed with you until Meriel dragged him away to give me a chance. I hope you are feeling better, my lord?"

"Much." Her apprehension was painful. He must reassure her that he didn't intend to force her to a bargain she had never intended. "I'm sorry, Troth. I made a terrible mess of things. In my arrogance, I thought I could visit Hoshan and return to Macao with no trouble. Instead, I almost got you killed, caused enormous suffering for my family, and cost Chenqua a lot of money and the European traders a huge amount of face. All because I wouldn't listen to reason."

"What's done can't be undone," she said pragmatically. "Tell me what happened."

Tersely he described the sham executions, confining himself to the facts. Even months later under cover of darkness, he couldn't bear to speak of his shameful fear and misery. Especially not to her.

"Then Chenqua rescued you?"

"Yes, though it took time. At first there was no rush because I was presumed dead, so the viceroy and his bureaucrats moved slowly. As soon as Chenqua learned I hadn't been executed, he sent his oldest son and his personal physician to Feng-tang along with a company of Bannermen in case Wu Chong proved difficult." Kyle smiled humorlessly. "Apparently the prefect was all bland cooperation. But of course they could take the foreign devil. He'd written to Peking for instructions-sending his letter by donkey cart, I suspect-but if the viceroy was willing to take responsibility for the prisoner, Wu was delighted to oblige. Not that I learned any of this until much later."

"What about Chenqua?"

"He scolded me as if I were a misbehaving schoolboy and refused to let me reimburse him for the fine he'd paid on my behalf."

"Was he angry about what I'd done?" Troth's elegant face was still as marble.

"He said he'd miss your kung fu." Knowing how important this must be to her, he said slowly, "I felt that he was very sorry to lose you, and not only because you were useful to him. Not angry at all. Just… sorry, and wishing you well."

Her expression eased. "I'm glad."

"Did you have any problems after you left Feng-tang?"

"None. Gavin Elliott was wonderful, and your whole family has been very kind, even the old dragon, your father."

"The old dragon-what a good name for him. He might be arriving at any moment, by the way. As soon as I reached England, I sent messages to him and my sister." He should have gone to Dornleigh first, but he'd never considered doing that. The lifelong bond between him and his brother was stronger than his often strained relationship with the earl. Stronger even than duty.

Troth hid her face against his shoulder. "What happens now? "

"Damned if I know. What made perfect sense in a Chinese dungeon seems rather mad here in England." He stared sightlessly at the ceiling. "The question is how to set you free without creating a scandal in the process."

She became utterly still. "You wish to end the marriage, such as it is?"

The question wasn't about his wishes, but about what was right. Choosing his words carefully, he said, "You have a whole world of possibilities in front of you, while I… well, I'd never intended to marry again and don't think I'd make much of a husband. You deserve better."

"How very noble you are," she said dryly.

He laughed a little for the first time in months. "Not noble. Confused, but trying to do the right thing." Giving in to temptation, he continued, "Still, unless you're in a hurry to leave we can wait until I'm feeling stronger and you've had time to decide what you want. You must still be in shock from my miraculous return from the dead."

Her dark head nodded vigorously.

Lightly he touched her silky hair. "I'm sorry. There was no point in writing, since I'd reach here about as soon as any letter."

"That part I understand." Her voice turned cool. "As for the rest… I gather you don't want us to… to behave as husband and wife while you decide on the best way for us to part."

He winced. Did she suspect his fear that if they became lovers again, he'd never have the strength to let her go? Trying to make a joke of it, he said, "Once you see Dornleigh, you'll be eager to end the marriage. It's the most dismal great house in England."

"But it is your home."

"For my sins, yes." He smiled self-mockingly. "I must admit that I'm looking forward to returning. Seven years is a long time to be away."

Long enough to fulfill all his dreams, leaving… nothing.