LITMIR.BIZ

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to Miss Kethley, who smiled silently and bestowed her attention on her food, presenting little clue to her thoughts. The interesting companion with whom he had dined at the Eyrie had retreated behind her wall of mannerly restraint.

      What made him think she would entertain an offer from him? Perhaps he would be better advised to let the matter drop. But if he did that, she would certainly believe that he had changed his mind because of her misfortune. He despised that sort of thinking. He would never hold against her something over which she had no control. Men who were themselves the worst sort of rake seemed always the first to condemn women.

      Rob did not intend to count himself in their number.

      But her father had said she would not have him.

      Well, they would see about that.

      At last Lady Rosley rose from the table, and she and Miss Kethley turned to leave the room. Rob stood and cleared his throat. “If Lord Rosley and Thomas will forgive me for not sharing their port, I would like to have a few words with Miss Kethley, if I may.”

      “To be sure.” His lordship nodded. “The sawbones says I can’t drink port now, in any event, and Thomas will be the better for tea. We will join Lady Rosley.” He struggled to his feet, reaching for his cane.

      Rob offered Miss Kethley his arm, and she, with her usual hesitation, took it and directed him to a small parlor adjacent to the dining room. He could feel tension radiating from her body through her slender arm. He patted her hand comfortingly, but did not speak until they were ensconced before a cozy fire.

      He would have preferred to share the sofa with her for this occasion, but she moved immediately to the chairs flanking the fireplace. Rob pulled the chairs closer together—near enough to face her across a much shorter distance. Deciding against taking her hand, he leaned forward with his forearms on his knees.

      “Miss Kethley, I feel sure you know what I wish to discuss with you.”

      She held up a hand, palm outward, her expression serious. “Please, Lord Duncan. There is no need for this conversation. I appreciate your willingness to act as a gentleman, but I would not ensnare you simply because you had the ill fortune to save me from a storm. I have told you—my reputation is not at stake.” She glanced at the fire, then down at her hands. “And I…I am sure my father told you…”

      “About the terrible outrage you endured? Aye, he told me. And I have no desire to further the injustice done to you afterward.”

      She raised her eyes to his. “What do you mean?”

      “That I see no justice whatever in denying you the home and family you deserve simply because a set of blackguards chose to work their perverted will on you.”

      “Plain speaking, indeed, my lord.”

      “And why not? Their actions confer no shame on you.”

      Iantha again retreated into staring at the fire. “Mama also says that. But as you are well aware, Lord Duncan, most of the world does not share that opinion.”

      “Most of the world be damned! Will you allow yourself to be held prisoner in the wilds of Cumberland by narrow minds?” A frown drew his lordship’s dark eyebrows together.

      “I am not a prisoner, my lord. I go into society occasionally—to small neighborhood affairs. And Mama entertains. My parents have urged me to visit London, but… I… I do not want to go. Word of the incident spread like wildfire through the ton. Everyone knows. And beside that, it is very difficult for me to be with a large group of people.” How could she make him understand?

      The suffocating.

      The bodies brushing against hers.

      The constant struggle against panic. Iantha shuddered.

      And of course, there were the hushed whispers and the occasional snicker. And the looks of sympathy. Suddenly the anger began to rise. She fought it back until she could say, quite evenly, “I do not require your pity, Lord Duncan.”

      “And I, therefore, do not offer it.”

      He looked her steadily in the eyes.

      “Then why are you so insistent on making this proposal?”

      He sighed and leaned back in the chair. “I am not sure. A large part of it is that I hate injustice. I have an ardent desire to correct it. But…” He grinned suddenly. “I believe that a larger part of my determination stems from the fact that I have recently made the acquaintance of a most fascinating female. One who is not only lovely, but who is intelligent and talented and adventurous. I have a strong need for adventure myself—and for someone to share it with me.”

      “But you returned from your great adventure in India. Did you tire of it?”

      Lord Duncan sobered. “No. No, I finally realized that part of my life is over.” He took a turn at gazing into the fire. Iantha waited for him to gather his thoughts. “You see, I married there—a lovely Indian lady. She died two years ago.”

      “You are still grieving.”

      “In a way I suppose I am. I will certainly never forget her. But more than that, I am lonely. I miss them….” He rubbed his cheek thoughtfully. “I also lost my little girl to the same fever.” His voice wavered. “The Indian climate is the very devil for fevers.” He cleared his throat and surreptitiously dabbed at the corner of his eye. “It is for my daughter that I still grieve.”

      Iantha pushed back a wave of sadness. “I’m so very sorry. Losing a child must be terrible.”

      “Aye, it’s that.” He took a long breath. “And since they died, I have encountered no other lady who took my interest. Until you pointed that pistol at me.” His grin returned.

      In spite of herself, Iantha blushed. “I do apologize. It is just that—that…”

      “You have no intention of repeating your earlier experience.”

      “Exactly.” She looked up, startled. “Yet I simply cannot stay within doors all the time. Nor can I abide being followed around by a groom—always cautioning me and hurrying me. Besides, I had four men with me before. The gang shot them all. Had I had a number of pistols in the coach, the story might have been different.”

      If nothing else, she might have shot herself.

      A decided improvement over what had actually happened.

      The skin between Lord Duncan’s eyebrows once again pulled into a frown. “I cannot hear the incident mentioned without wanting to do those fellows a severe injury.”

      “I appreciate your indignation on my behalf.” Iantha leaned forward. “But don’t you see, Lord Duncan? It is not only my body they hurt. My spirit is wounded. I may never again be whole.”

      He leaned toward her in turn, this time taking her hand. “I would like to heal that hurt. I would very much like to see you whole.”

      Could that ever be? Iantha started to withdraw her hand, then subdued the impulse. If only he knew how much effort it cost her. His nearness stirred tremors deep inside her, profound, disturbing. Confusing.

      “I might never be able to give you another daughter. I’m afraid I could never be a true wife to you.”

      “I know that it would be very difficult for you, but it would not be necessary at first. I believe that together we can slowly overcome this dreadful fear.” He smiled. “After all, Miss Kethley, learning to make love is one of life’s greatest adventures. Share it with me. Let me help you. Step by step, touch by touch. Starting with allowing me to kiss your hand.” He lifted her fingers and brushed his lips across them, then returned the hand to her own keeping.

      She rubbed the spot that his mouth had touched. A home. Perhaps children. Children were the only humans with whom she now felt at ease. How comforting it would be to have her own.

      And someone to share adventures with.

      Life’s

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