THE THREE GIFTS (FROM THE ANTHOLOGY CHRISTMAS KEEPSAKES) by Julia Justiss

Critically injured during the war, reluctant new viscount Miles Hampden must find a wife to safeguard his family legacy. To ease the mind of a dying soldier she secretly admires, Edwina Denby agrees to a marriage of convenience As Edwina nurses the handsome viscount to a full recovery, love proves to be the elixir that heals all wounds!

Dear Reader,

If you are like me, the first word that pops into your mind when someone mentions Christmas is presents! From the divine gift of love to the tokens of affection exchanged by lovers, families, friends and coworkers, the season is symbolized by the spirit of giving.

Edwina Denby, the heroine of my story, is called upon to offer a unique kind of gift to Miles Hampden, a young soldier she secretly admires. In exploring her life as a soldier's daughter growing up in India, I came upon the ancient legends every child there would have heard. Although the Ramayana stories are from a different culture a world away, I was struck by how the themes of honor, sacrifice, courage and duty still resonate, as they have since the legends were written over 2000 years ago.

Great and timeless as these virtues are, it is love, selfless and self-sacrificing, that is truly life's greatest gift. I hope you will enjoy watching as Miles and Edwina find and offer this gift to each other.

Julia Justiss

To the men and women of our armed forces who daily go into harm's way all over the world so that we at home may be safe.

Chapter One

Outside Lisbon, Mid-November 1810

LIEUTENANT MILES HAMPDEN squinted into the set¬ting sun at the twinkling of campfires that marked the enemy positions at the far side of the Lines of Torres Vedras. Fewer tonight, he noted. Having apparently accepted that he would not be able to lure Welling¬ton out of his maze of defensive fortifications to do battle, it appeared General Messena was beginning to withdraw his troops.

So the French were leaving Portugal, as he would be shortly, Miles thought, shivering as a gust of No¬vember wind swirled over the barricade. With what little emotion remained to him, he could almost pity the half-starved enemy their long winter march through the barren countryside back to Spain.

He would be returning to the warmth and plenty of England, just in time for the beginning of the Christmas season. A prospect that, until the grim news that came last week, he would normally have greeted with gladness.

Instead of finding Hampden Glen decked in a fes¬tive array of holly and mistletoe, he would walk into a house wreathed in black. Instead of joining family and servants to haul in a Yule log, he would make a solitary pilgrimage to the family crypt that had held, for nearly a month by the time the letter reached him, the remains of his father and elder brother, killed in a carriage accident on their way home from a county fair.

The first raw blast of grief had faded, leaving him to go numbly through his duties for the few days re¬maining before he would catch a transport back to England. No longer simply Lieutenant Hampden of the Third Foot, but Viscount Hampden, head of the family and guardian to his widowed sister-in-law and her little daughter.

He would miss his comrades and the often dull, occasionally terrifying business of soldiering. But de¬spite the fact that Wellington's army had not yet managed to drive the French out of the Peninsula, Miles had no choice but to resign his commission.

Not since, in the same cruel twist of fate that had turned a second son into a viscount, the new heir to the Hampden title had become Miles's cousin Regi¬nald—a debauched gamester of such ill repute that even Wellington, generally loathe to release a battle-tested officer, had gruffly observed when he gave Miles his condolences that 'twas nothing for it but for the new viscount to sell out.

Eyes still watching the campfires, Miles's mouth hardened as he thought of Reggie. Already known as a drunkard, a cheat and a bully at Oxford, after being expelled from the university, his cousin had settled in London, where he further tarnished the Hampden name with escapades of vice and high-stakes gaming.

No, Miles could not remain a soldier and risk hav¬ing the fate of gentle Agnes and her little Beth fall into Reginald's soiled hands. Nor could he tolerate the prospect of his cousin squandering the assets of the estate that generations of Hampdens had care¬fully tended.

Of course, as Wellington had wryly observed, if Miles were quick enough about the business, he might find a wife from among the Marriage Mart lovelies in town for the season, breed himself an heir to secure the succession and be back in time for next summer's campaign.

His general's dry humor gave his dulled spirits a slight lift. With a soldier's uncertain life stretching be fore him, he'd never given much thought to the mar¬riage that duty—and the looming threat of Reggie in¬heriting now made a matter of priority. Beyond the basics of good breeding, competence and compatibil¬ity, what sort of woman should he choose?

Hunching his shoulders against the cold, he re¬played in memory the short catalog of ladies who'd impressed him. There was the sultry Portuguese con-tessa with the dark eyes and smoky voice, who would doubtless enliven the marriage bed. The cool blond beauty he'd imagined himself in love with his first year on the town—elegant, perfectly gowned, a charming hostess, but whose conversation concerned solely ton gossip or fashion. Lacy Standish, the neigh¬bor he'd grown up with, practical, easygoing, an ac¬complished estate manager, but more a friend than a potential lover.

It seemed he'd never met anyone who possessed all the qualities he admired in a lady—which didn't augur well for finding a suitable life's partner on the double-quick.

Sighing, he concluded that he would have to do the best he could with the selection available when the time came. Since, mercifully, now was not that time, he put the matter out of mind.

'Twas nearly full dark, signaling the end of his watch. After exchanging pleasantries with the lieutenant who relieved him, Miles retrieved his horse and rode off, hoping his batman would have some hot tea waiting and perhaps have found a hare for the stew pot.

His ears had barely registered the loud report of a musket when a stunning, red-hot blow slammed into his back. And then he was falling, falling out of the saddle into the inky dusk.

FROM A MURKY HAZE, Miles fought back to conscious¬ness, his eyes drawn to a flicker of light. Enemy campfires. Then he realized he was gazing not over the barricade, but at a lantern hung near where he lay propped upon a cot, agonizing pain radiating from his back and chest.

"Thank God, you're awake!"

Through the confusion and discomfort, Miles recog¬nized the voice of his friend and fellow lieutenant, Allen, Lord Sanbrook and cautiously turned his head.

"Steady now!" Sanbrook admonished. "Wilson says you must remain as still as possible."

"What...happened?" Miles asked.

A different voice—another friend, Lieutenant William Wheaten—answered, "The trooper on duty says a sniper hit you just as you were leaving the bar¬ricade. And the bastards are supposed to be retreat¬ing! A pox on frogs and all things French."

"How.. .bad is it?" Miles asked.

There was an ominous pause before Sanbrook said, "You took a ball through the back of your shoulder. It appears to be still lodged in your chest, though with this cursed darkness and all the bleeding, Wil¬son says 'tis difficult to tell. The devil of it is that Dr. MacAndrews is away in Lisbon and not due back until tomorrow."

Miles fought to stay conscious. "Wilson is here?"

"Aye, sir, right here," the surgeon's assistant said.

"Can you.. .remove the ball?"

"That's the rub of it, sir. That ball mighta come to rest between your heart and your lung—or mayhap it broke into pieces. I'm no physician, you know, and I'm not about to go probing about in there, for see¬ing as little as I can see and knowing as little as I know, I'd kill you for sure. You'll just have to hang on until the surgeon gets back."

Even through his pain, Miles could discern the note of fear in the assistant's voice.

"Will I.. .make it.. .until morning?"

"We'll surely be praying that you do," Wilson replied.

He could be dying, Miles realized. It seemed ironic, after coming unscathed through a fistful of battles, and the bitter retreat to Corunna, that he might be snuffed by a sniper's bullet while practically on his way out of the country. He longed to give in to the throbbing demon biting at his chest and sink back into oblivion, but a nagging sense that there was something important, something vital he must do, made him fight the looming darkness.

Duty came to him in a cold sweat of awareness.

Reginald.

"Can't let.. .Reggie inherit," he croaked, trying des¬perately to rally his strength.

"Damn, I'd forgotten the succession!" Sanbrook said.

"Nothing for it, old man," Wheaten said. "You'll just have to hold on until the sawbones can treat you.

"Could he will his estate to a comrade?" Wheaten asked. "Just for peace of mind," he added hastily.

"Probably not," Sanbrook answered. "If he tried to transfer assets to someone not kin by blood or mar¬riage, Reginald would be sure to challenge it, and the courts would likely uphold the legal heir."

"If the matter is important," Wilson broke in, "he'd best do something about it now, while he's still conscious."

Sanbrook fixed Wilson with a look. "You think it's that critical?"

Wilson nodded. "Regret to say it, but I do."

The surgeon's assistant didn't think he'd see morn¬ing, Miles realized. For the first time, fear swept over him. He could accept his own death, but surely heaven would not let his brother's already bereaved family suffer further!

With his last reserves of strength, he clutched San-brook's hand. "Must...do something."

His friend regarded him steadily, then nodded and turned to the surgeon's assistant. "Wilson, you know Sergeant Riggins of the Second Regiment? He's a so¬licitor by trade, I believe. Have him fetched here as quickly as possible. So, Hampden," he said, looking back at Miles, "it appears William and I will have to find you a bride."

Chapter 2

EDWINA CROFTON DENBY was rolling bandages at the small wooden table in her father's billet when her mother looked up from her needlework and frowned. "Such a sad duty for a young woman on a fine fair night!" Mrs. Crofton observed. "You ought to tease Papa into taking you to Lisbon. With Christmas soon upon us, there's bound to parties honoring General Wellington where you could dine and dance and enjoy the company of his handsome officers."

Edwina gave her mama a fond smile. "You know my work with the wounded brings me solace, Mama. And you also know Papa wouldn't dare take me to Lisbon, for he would have to take you, too, and the admirers you always attract would drive him quite distracted with jealousy."

Mrs. Crofton laughed. "Nonsense! I may have been a belle long ago, but 'tis you who would command their attention now." She hesitated, and Edwina braced herself for the advice sure to come.

Her mother continued, "Tis more than a year since Talavera. I know you've said you have no wish to marry again, but you are still so young! You should pull your heart from the grave and look about you."

Despite her discomfort with her mother's well-meant advice, Edwina had no intention of putting a period to the argument by revealing it wasn't grief over her lost husband that made her disinclined to re¬marry. "I'm content to be here helping you and Papa."

"Yes, and we do love having you, but you deserve a home of your own. A husband, and children to de¬light you as you have delighted us."

A pang pierced her heart. If only Daniel could have given her a child, perhaps the disaster that had been her marriage would have been worth the pain. Damping down that old, familiar disappointment, she said, "Please, Mama, I don't wish to talk of it."

Tears brimming in her eyes, Mrs. Crofton came over to pat her daughter's hand. "I'm sorry, my dear, for broaching the matter again. Only you know how much your father and I long for you to find the hap¬piness we have. The happiness you had with your dear Daniel."

Edwina swallowed the lump in her throat and vowed anew never to reveal to her tenderhearted mama how great a lie that was. Nor did she wish to risk bringing on an attack of the vapors by revealing what she really intended to do once she'd seen Papa safely through this war: return to England and use the money she would inherit from grandfather to set up her own establishment.

Thanks to his bequest, the Lord be praised, she need not marry again.

A knock at the door pulled her from her thoughts. With the responsiveness of a combat officer of many years' experience, her papa, who'd been dozing in an armchair by the fire, jolted awoke and paced to the door.

He opened it to reveal two soldiers standing in the shadows, lamplight gleaming on their officer's lacing. "So sorry to disturb you, Major Crofton," one of them said. "We've come to beg an urgent favor."

"Enter, gentlemen, and warm yourselves by the fire," her father replied. "May I offer you both some port?"

"No, thank you, sir," replied the first. As they strode toward the hearth, Edwina recognized Lieutenant Wheaten and Lieutenant Lord Sanbrook from a neighboring regiment, the Third Foot. "We must be off immediately."

"How may I help you, then?" her father asked.

"One of our comrades was gravely wounded by sniper fire a short time ago. As you may know, Dr. MacAndrews is not in camp at present. His assistant, Corporal Wilson, sent us to see if your daughter might come assist him."

Her father gestured to Edwina. "Ask her yourself."

Lord Sanbrook turned pleading eyes toward Ed¬wina. "I know 'tis late, ma'am, but could you please come? Wilson says, except for the doctor himself, you have more experience than anyone in nursing the badly wounded and—" the two lieutenants ex¬changed an uneasy glance "—I'm afraid our friend's case is desperate."

"Who is the wounded soldier?" Edwina asked.

"Lieutenant Hampden."

Her mother gasped. "Oh, the poor manl Was he not supposed to leave for England in a few days?"

"Yes, ma'am," Wheaten confirmed.

Edwina drew in a shocked breath of her own. Though she didn't know the lieutenant well, she had been intensely aware of him every time he'd chanced to visit Papa's regiment. It was not just his handsome face and tall, commanding figure that drew her eye, but an aura of confidence and enthusiasm that lifted the spirits of everyone he met—even this rather shy widow of no particular beauty.

"Of course I will come," she replied. "Let me get my cloak."

A few minutes later, wrapped in that warm, fur-lined garment, she set off on horseback, her thoughts consumed with worried speculation about the lieu¬tenant's condition. From the looks that passed be¬tween his friends and the grim lines into which then-faces settled as they rode, she surmised that his con¬dition was indeed perilous.

How sad it would be if such a vital, compelling young man were to lose his life tonight.

After a short ride, they reached the hospital tents. But to her surprise, after helping her down from the saddle, Lord Sanbrook put a restraining hand on her arm.

"Before you go in, I must explain the singular cir¬cumstances in which Lieutenant Hampden now finds himself. I beg you will hear the whole before you re¬spond, even if some of it seems a bit.. .shocking."

Puzzled, Edwina answered, "Of course. Only tell me at once, that I might go assist Wilson."

"The ball that pierced Lieutenant Hampden's shoulder may have lodged in his chest. Wilson dares not probe for it and fears Hampden may not survive until the surgeon returns tomorrow. As I imagine you've heard, Miles recently became Viscount Hampden. As matters now stand, should he die, his cousin, a vice-ridden, debauched gamester, will in¬herit. He would also become guardian and trustee to the recently widowed Lady Hampden and her young daughter. I assure you, did you know Reginald Hamp¬den as I do, you would realize the Devil himself would be more fit to have charge of such innocents."

"Then we must all hope Lieutenant Hampden confounds Wilson's expectations and survives."

"And so we do. But hindering Hampden's fight to survive is his great distress over what his kinswomen would suffer at his cousin's hands, should he succumb to his wounds. That, ma'am, is the matter with which we most need your assistance."

Edwina nodded. "I shall be happy to help in any way I can."

"The assistance we require is of a rather.. .personal nature. To state it baldly, ma'am, we propose to have you marry Lieutenant Hampden."

Edwina shook her head, sure she could not have heard him correctly. "You wish me to do what?"

Coloring faintly, Sanbrook cleared his throat. "Marry him," he repeated, more confidently this time. "You see, if Miles is married, he can will the guard¬ianship of the widowed Lady Hampden, as well as all the assets of the estate which are not entailed, to his wife, with his solicitors as trustees, thereby protect¬ing his niece and sister-in-law and at least some of the Hampden estate. The necessary paperwork is being completed as we speak and a chaplain is standing by to perform the ceremony. All we lack is a bride." He smiled at her. "We sincerely hope to persuade you to play that role."

Edwina stared at him for a full minute. "You must be mad," she said flatly, and turned back to¬ward her horse.

Lord Sanbrook caught her shoulder. "Please, ma'am, don't go! I know 'tis an extraordinary request."

"Indeed," she said, shaking off his hand.

"Only consider! You'd be easing the last hours of a valiant soldier and—pray excuse me for putting the matter so crudely—saving the jointure and quite likely the person of a grieving widow from being ravished by a man who would hold her completely in his legal power. I beg you to think it over again be¬fore you refuse."

"I should dismiss it outright," Edwina retorted. The very notion that the handsome, titled Lieutenant Hampden would even consider taking to wife a non¬descript widow of scant beauty and few family connec¬tions was ludicrous. Suddenly suspicious, she turned on Sanbrook. "This was your idea, wasn't it? Surely Lieu¬tenant Hampden did not send you on such a mad scheme."

"It was indeed his wish, ma'am, which he will shortly confirm. He would, of course, have preferred to explain the whole to you himself, but Wilson and I thought it best for him to conserve what little strength he has left. Please, ma'am. We should not ask this of you were the situation not truly desperate."

Unbelievable as it all seemed, she could tell from his voice and manner that Lord Sanbrook was in deadly earnest. It still seemed outrageous—a clandes¬tine midnight marriage to a dying nobleman—but if the heir to the Hampden title were as dissolute and unprincipled as Sanbrook painted him, the thought of a widow trapped in legal thrall to such a man was equally appalling. Despite her initial resistance, she felt compassion stir.

"I concede the situation appears grave. But what if I agree to your proposal and, by God's mercy, Lieu¬tenant Hampden survives?"

"Then if you both wish it, you may tear up the con¬tract and go your separate ways, with no one the wiser."

"Just like that?" Edwina angled her head to gaze up at him. "I cannot imagine any chaplain agreeing to marry us on such terms."

Sanbrook returned a rueful grin. "Were the circum¬stances not so extraordinary, I expect you would be correct. However, being well acquainted with the ex¬cellence of Hampden's character and realizing the gravity of his condition, Chaplain Darrow agreed to officiate, as long as you pledge that you are entering this...unusual union of your own free will. Should

Miles survive, a small gift in appreciation of your ef¬forts could be arranged. Whereas, if our hopes for his recovery are not answered, you would of course re¬ceive a generous widow's competence."

Edwina stiffened. "If I agree to this, I will accept no reimbursement of any kind. I shall do it only to safeguard Lady Hampden and ease Lieutenant Hampden's suffering. But I shall not agree to anything until I hear this astounding proposal from Lieutenant Hampden's own lips."

Sanbrook nodded. "Then let us make haste while that is still possible."

Edwina wasn't sure what she expected, but from the sickly sweet odor of blood emanating from Hampden's cot and the panicky expression on Wil¬son's face, she realized Sanbrook had not overstated the gravity of his friend's condition.

"Thank heaven you be here at last!" Wilson said as he advanced to meet them. With a glance over his shoulder at his patient, he continued in softer tones, Near half a dozen times, I feared I'd lost him."

Lord Sanbrook addressed a man in the uniform of a sergeant. "Is all the paperwork ready?"

"Aye, sir," the sergeant replied.

"You're sure it will withstand a possible court challenge?"

The sergeant gave Lord Sanbrook a chilly look.

"Before I signed on with Wellington, I was the best solicitor in Liverpool. Try as they might, not the fan¬ciest of London lawyers will be able to find a loop¬hole in these documents."

While the men talked, Edwina found her attention drawn to the man propped on the cot. Pain cut fur¬rowed lines in his forehead as he exhaled shallow, panting breaths. From the fixed gaze of his eyes and the clench of his fists on the cot frame, she sensed that he was holding on to consciousness only by a fero¬cious effort.

Pity and regret for a life that appeared almost cer¬tain to be lost soon swelled in her breast.

Then Lieutenant Hampden saw her. The legal and social ramifications of the dilemma faded from mind as, in his fevered eyes, she read the desperate plea for help of a wounded being to the person he knew could ease his torment.

Without another thought, she walked over and took his hand. "Lieutenant, I was so sorry to hear of your injury."

"Thank you...for entertaining...so outrageous a proposition, Mrs. Denby."

His fingers, damp with sweat, barely returned the pressure of hers. "Hush, now, you must save your strength," she said, her heart contracting once more with pity. "Are you sure you wish to do this?"

"Would do me.. .utmost honor.. .if you consent.. .to become my wife," he said, panting a bit at the end.

Afterward she could not remember ever making a conscious decision. She simply heard herself saying, "I would be honored to accept your proposal."

"Excellent!" Sanbrook said. "Chaplain Darrow," he called, "The vows, if you please."

Emerging from the shadows at the far side of the tent, the reverend nodded to Sanbrook, then turned to address Edwina. "You are sure you wish to do this?"

For an instant, panic swept through her, but a sin¬gle glance at Hampden's pain-lined face was suffi¬cient to banish it. "Yes, Father Darrow. I am sure."

"Very well, my child. May God bless you for your compassion." Placing his hand over the limp fingers Edwina still held, the reverend began to read the fa¬miliar words of the wedding service.

As the proceedings went forward, Edwina had to suppress a hysterical giggle at the unreality of it all: the flickering red glow of the lantern, the wounded bridegroom gasping out his vows, his friend helping him place the heavy, bloodstained signet ring on her finger. Then it was over and the chaplain proclaimed them man and wife.

"Save the kiss...for later," her bridegroom whis¬pered. His eyes fluttered shut and he sagged back, as if a great burden had been lifted.

For one charged moment, Edwina thought her new husband had expired, until her panicked eyes noted the slight rise and fall of the chest that indicated he remained, for the moment, among the living.

Sinking down on a stool, she numbly accepted the congratulations of the minister and the solicitor, who speedily withdrew. An awkward silence fell between her and the friends of the man on the cot to whom, apparently, she was now legally married.

"He shall be forever in your debt," Sanbrook said softly. "'Twas a truly noble and unselfish act."

"Indeed, ma'am,"Wheaten echoed. "But this must be all quite a shock. May we escort you back to your father's billet now?"

Unreal as the wedding appeared, it seemed callous to vow to honor, cherish and obey and then ride back to her father's encampment while her titular hus¬band lay dying. Nor, in truth, did she know yet what she would say to her parents about this night's odd business.

"Corporal Wilson, you did wish my assistance nurs¬ing. . .the lieutenant?" she asked, unable to get her lips around the word husband.

"Indeed, Mrs.—Lady Hampden. It would ease my mind."

Edwina shook off the little shiver—part appre¬hension, part something else she didn't wish to identify—at the sound of her new title on his lips. "Then I shall stay and tend him. You believe the ball may be lodged in his chest, I understand. Then I don't sup¬pose we should move him."

"No, ma'am."

"If I might have some water, to cleanse the wound and cool his brow? And if either of you has some spir¬its, I can give him a sip to ease his pain, should he wake." She gave Sanbrook and Wheaten a slight smile. "I shall try my best to make his last hours as comfort¬able as possible."

Lord Sanbrook bowed. "Allow Wheaten and me to assist. As Darrow said, your compassion does you great credit."

Edwina waved off his praise. "Nonsense, 'tis only fitting. Since it appears that, however briefly, I am now his lordship's wife."

Chapter 3

LORD HAMPDEN'S WIFE. Edwina would have laughed, were the situation not so tragic. Once upon a time, she might have felt like the heroine in one of the gothic tales Mama so enjoyed, to find herself sud¬denly married to a handsome, titled, agreeable young man. Until Daniel, seemingly the embodiment of every girlish dream, had seared through her life and burned such childish ideas to ash.

Only in a tale as fantastical as the Hindu legends her ayah used to tell her when she was growing up would Viscount Hampden choose to marry Edwina Denby, daughter of a baron's younger son and a wealthy merchant's daughter. Not only was she far beneath his touch in the eyes of English society, she had seen him at regimental parties, surrounded by a cooing coterie of local ladies or dancing with the slender, doe-eyed Portuguese beauties he apparently favored. He would hardly pick a tall, plain, brown-haired English girl whose only notable attributes were a fine set of hazel eyes and the promise, several years hence, of inheriting a fortune. Particularly since, if the gossip being whispered about the encampment were accurate, the new viscount had no need of an Indian nabob's riches to refill the family coffers.

She sighed. If she had known when she first met him how badly Daniel had needed that wealth, how differently her life might have transpired!

At least she had entered this marriage mercifully free of illusions. And she could repay the trust Hamp¬den had placed in her by capably tending her tem¬porary husband.

At that moment, Lord Sanbrook returned with a basin of water. "Here you are, ma'am. After discuss¬ing the matter, Wilson and I thought that once you've done all you can for Hampden, Wheaten could escort you home. We'll stay with him the rest of the night."

They wished to spare her having to watch as Hamp¬den breathed his last, Edwina thought. Not a tragedy she was keen to witness, yet part of her, illogically enough, resisted the idea of abandoning the man whose limp fingers she still retained in a light grasp. "I shall remain until I am fatigued, at which point I will gladly daim the lieutenant's escort. Ah, you found brandy."

After Sanbrook handed over the water and the spirits, Edwina set to work. She had thought Hamp¬den unconscious, but as she gently eased his jacket open to wash his chest, he stirred under her touch. "Thank.. .you," he murmured.

Heartened to find him still responsive, she said, "Would you like some water? Wilson has propped you high enough that I believe you can drink, if I hold the cup."

The lieutenant returned a barely perceptible nod. A whistled inhale of breath after his first sip told her it must hurt him to swallow, but he persevered. After refusing her offer of spirits, he braced himself, only his gritted teeth revealing the cost of his silence as she finished cleansing his wounds.

Having done all she could to give Dr. MacAndrews a clear field on which to treat his patient if, by God's mercy, the lieutenant survived until his return, she sent Wilson away with a request for more clean water.

A feeble tug at her hand startled her. "Don't.. .go," Hampden whispered. "Please stay and.. .talk to me."

He must have overheard his friend's intention to bear her away. Once again, sadness and sympathy swelled in her breast, strengthening her resolve not to leave him. How many dying soldiers had she sat beside simply talking, filling their last hours with a feminine presence that soothed them with memories of home and family? Surely she could do no less for Hampden.

"Of course," she replied. "What shall I say?"

"Tell me.. .about you."

She supposed it was only natural that he would want to know more about the woman he'd so pre¬cipitously married, though her recent past wasn't something she enjoyed recounting. Best to summa¬rize briefly and move on.

"Papa came to India in the army as a young man, where he met Mama, the daughter of a prosperous East India Company merchant. I was born and grew up in Bombay, living there until Papa's regiment was recalled here to the peninsula. Shortly before we were to leave, I met and married a young officer, Daniel Denby. He.. .he was killed at the battle of Talavera."

Hampden's eyes flickered. "Son of.. .LordAlveney?"

Edwina stiffened. What had he heard? "Yes," she replied cautiously.

"Good family," Hampden said, closing his eyes again.

"Yes," Edwina returned drily, relaxing a trifle. Good family indeed. How many times had Daniel re¬minded her what rare good fortune it had been for me of her humble birth to snare a husband of such exalted lineage?

“After that, I felt I should remain and help Mama care for Papa until the war ends," she continued, hoping to forestall any inquiry he might make about why the widow had not returned to England and the shelter of her husband's family. "Mama has the sweet¬est of good natures and never complains, no matter how wretched the conditions, but she's not very... practical."

One blue eye opened. "You're.. .practical?"

"Oh, very," she confirmed. The only talent Daniel had grudgingly come to appreciate was her ability to create an oasis of comfort out of the chaos of an army on the march. "I've become quite an excellent cam¬paigner, able to set up in anything from a hovel to a tent, and capable of coaxing a meal from the most unlikely ingredients. In addition to always having a fire blazing and a hot drink ready when Papa returns from duty."

"Excellent.. .skills for a wife," Hampden observed, his lips curving in the slightest of smiles.

Edwina felt herself flushing, unsure whether or not he was mocking her. "That's enough about me," she said, determined to turn the subject. "I should like to know more about you, too, but we'll save that for later. What else would you have me speak about?"

"Nursed a friend. Had.. .high praise.. .for your sto¬ries."

"Stories about India?" she asked, wondering if his comrade had been one of the wounded whom she'd distracted from his pain by recounting tales of valor, wisdom and treachery from the epic poems that had captivated her as a child.

"Yes. India," her husband whispered.

Relieved to escape more personal matters, after coaxing Hampden to take another sip of water, Ed-wina sat back. A pang of sadness and something else shot through her as his fingers moved on the cot, seeking hers.

Laying her hand on top of his larger one, she took a deep breath and began, "Long ago there lived a handsome prince named Rama. Sent by his father the king to a neighboring land whose ruler sought a strong and valiant prince to marry his daughter, Rama entered the competition for the hand of the beauti¬ful Princess Sita.

Of all the noblemen assembled, only Rama suc¬ceeded at every challenge the ruler set before them. Sita soon fell in love with the resourceful prince, and be with her. The young lovers were married with zreat pomp and ceremony.

After the couple returned to Rama's home, his fa¬ther announced his intention to turn over the throne to Rama. But the king's second wife objected. Reminding the king that he had once promised to grant her any two wishes, she told him that her first was to have her son rule instead of Rama. Her second was that Rama be banished.

Loyal and honorable as well as brave, Rama ac¬cepted that his father must keep his word. He meant to leave his beloved wife behind in the comfort of his father's kingdom, but Sita insisted on accompanying him into the wildness of the forest. 'As shadow is to substance, so a wife is to her husband,' she said, plead¬ing that he let her walk before him and smooth his path...."

As Edwina narrated her story, Lieutenant Lord Sanbrook nodded off and Wheaten began to snore softly. Gradually the tenseness in Hampden's body eased, until finally he fell into a light sleep, his breath¬ing growing fainter and more shallow.

He is slipping away, she thought, tears stinging her eyes. But when she paused, intending to wipe them away, she felt an almost imperceptible tightening on her fingers.

Hampden's blue eyes struggled open. "Don't... stop," he said, his voice the merest breath.

Edwina swallowed past the constriction in her throat. "I won't," she promised.

And so, through the rest of the long night, Edwina continued relating the adventures of Prince Rama and his bride. By the time the darkness outside the tent began to lighten with the approach of dawn, her throat was as hoarse and aching as her heart and she no longer tried to restrain the tears dripping down her cheeks.

This time when she raised a hand to swipe at her eyes, however, she found Lord Sanbrook awake, watching her.

"You've done far more than anyone had a right to expect," he whispered. "Miles is unconscious now. Let Wheaten take you home. I'll stay with him un¬til. . .the end."

Exhausted, drained—and angry at being forced once again to witness the cost of war, for which the politicians back in England had no appreciation—she nodded. Gently she slipped her fingers from the lax but still warm hand in which they had rested through xhe night.

"I'll call upon you later," Sanbrook said as she rose.

Edwina turned to walk away, then paused. Though the thought of making such a gesture under the eyes of his friends brought hot color to her cheeks, she nevertheless felt compelled to bend down and brush her lips against Hampden's forehead. "Farewell, hus¬band," she whispered.

"Go get some rest, Lady Hampden," Sanbrook said.

How astonished Mama would be to hear her called that, the thought struck Edwina as she followed Wheaten out of the tent.

SHE WAS WALTZING in the arms of a strong young man—her bridegroom. Giddy with happiness, she turned to wave at Mama and Papa, who beamed their approval from the head table under the tent erected on the grounds of Papa's quarters in the Bombay can¬tonment. Men in red-coated dress uniforms glittering with medals swirled past her, women in a butterfly hue of gowns clasped in their arms.

Her new husband pulled her scandalously closer, molding her against his well-muscled length. Her breasts tingled, her belly and thighs flamed as the movements of the dance brushed her against her hus¬band's legs and abdomen.. .against the hard bulge in his breeches.

Soon enough they would steal away, and with sighs and kisses she would be free to shed his garments and explore every inch of the body that tantalized her, as he explored every inch of hers.

Laughing with the sheer wonder of it, she glanced up. Somehow the tented cantonment had vanished, replaced by the glitter of a Lisbon ballroom. Instead of Daniel's grim visage staring down at her, finely molded lips smiled in a face whose heated, intense blue eyes promised their owner, too, was anticipat¬ing the delights of the bedchamber.

Miles Hampden's face.

Edwina woke with a start to find her skin flushed and her breathing rapid. So vivid was the dream, it took her a moment to separate illusion from reality.

How had her mind gotten so muddled? she won¬dered, trying to still her pounding heart. She'd no¬ticed Lieutenant Hampden as he came and went about his duties, of course—what woman could not? But from where had such scandalous thoughts about him sprung?

Suddenly she remembered—the midnight tent in a red glow of blood and candlelight, the hastily performed ceremony. Miles Hampden was now her husband.

He'd done nothing more amorous after the cere¬mony than squeeze her fingers, Edwina reminded herself. Nor, she felt certain, would he have been in¬clined to proceed further even had he not been gravely wounded. There was absolutely no reason that the memory of his hand holding hers should make her fingers tremble and burn.

As for her dream, she should dismiss it. After all, in the way of dreams, everything else about the im¬ages had been distorted. Certainly Daniel had never looked at her with such desire in his eyes. Even as early in their marriage as the morning of the wedding breakfast, she'd had to feign the aura of happiness.

Better that she rise and dress, figure out something to tell Mama and then go tend her new husband.

If he still lived.

She'd just thrown on her clothes and run a brush through her rioting brown curls when a loud pound¬ing on the house's outer door brought her rushing into the main room.

Standing on the threshold, obviously trying to coax Mama's Portuguese maid into allowing him entry, was Lieutenant Lord Sanbrook.

A glance at his ashen, hollow-eyed face sent Ed¬wina's stomach plunging and she brought one hand to her chest. "Is he—" she asked in a voice gone sud¬denly faint.

Lord Sanbrook's face broke into a grin. "No!  He's much improved. Come, you must seel"

Wearing a frilly dressing gown with a matching lace mobcap over her blond curls, Edwina's mother emerged from her bedchamber. "What's all the fuss?" Mrs. Crofton demanded. "Who has improved?"

Before Edwina could decide how best to answer that question, Sanbrook said, "Your daughter's husband."

Chapter 4

WHILE ASTONISHMENT registered on her mama's face, Edwina flashed Sanbrook a warning look before turn¬ing to the maid. "Bring coffee, please, Juanita?"

The girl nodded, her dark eyes alight with curios¬ity. Edwina suppressed an inward groan. Juanita's command of English might be less than perfect, but unless Edwina was much mistaken, whispers of a midnight marriage would begin to circulate within the camp as soon as the maid left to draw water.

Shrugging off that concern, Edwina continued, "Won't you both sit? After I tell Mama what hap¬pened, Lord Sanbrook, I will be happy to accom¬pany you."

As they sipped the scalding brew, Edwina sketched for her mother the events of the previous night. "If Lieutenant Hampden is, as I sincerely hope, on the way to recovery," she concluded, "all that transpired will soon be reversed, so I beg you will mention this to no one but Papa. Please, dear Mama?"

"Married!" her mama exclaimed, shaking her head. "Edwina, how could you—and in such a havey-cavey fashion! Oh, 'tis most upsetting1."

"Do not worry, Mrs. Crofton, everything was quite properly done," Lord Sanbrook assured her. "Regard¬less of what transpires next, your daughter and her good name will be fully protected."

"Married," Mrs. Crofton repeated. Suddenly her face broke into a smile of pure delight. "And to such an excellent young man!"

"Now Mama, 'twas not a true wedding," Edwina cautioned.

"Well, married is married, to my way of thinking," Mrs. Crofton muttered, a gleam in her eye.

Edwina sighed. "I shall try to do better at ex¬plaining it all later, Mama, but now I must see Lieu¬tenant Hampden. Has Dr. MacAndrews returned?" she asked Lord Sanbrook as she rose and fetched her cloak.

"Yes, earlier this morning," Sanbrook replied. "He was able to locate the remaining fragments of the ball just beneath Hampden's shoulder blade, which means—praise God—the injury is less serious than we originally feared. He will require careful tending, but it appears Miles has an excellent chance of mak¬ing a full recovery."

"That is wonderful news," Edwina replied, genu¬inely happy for the lieutenant. She would much rather their hasty marriage be quietly reversed by its participants than terminated by her unexpected hus¬band's death.

"Shall we go, then, Lady Hampden?" Lord Sanbrook said. "Miles has been asking for you."

"Lady Hampden—ooh, I like the sound of that!" Mrs. Crofton said, smiling again.

"Don't accustom yourself to it, Mama, for 'tis only temporary," Edwina advised, throwing a repressive look at Juanita, who carefully avoided her gaze. Her clandestine marriage and, if God smiled on the lieu¬tenant's recovery, its subsequent cancellation would set tongues wagging, but the embarrassment would hopefully be short-lived.

At least she would not have to conceal the truth of this marriage from her parents, as she'd had to hide the travesty of her first one.

With that encouraging thought, she took the arm Lord Sanbrook offered and walked out of the house.

As SOON AS THEY EXITED, Edwina said to Lord San-hrook, "I assure you, despite Mama's.. .romantical no¬tions, I am fully prepared to abide by the conditions of the bargain we made last night. I'm sure Lieu¬tenant Hampden will wish to go about dissolving the union as quickly as possible, and I shall do all in my power to assist him."

Sanbrook gave her an approving nod. "I would imagine he does intend to do so, once his recovery pro¬gresses, but he told me this morning that for the pres¬ent, he wished you to be treated with every courtesy as his wife. He specifically instructed me to insure you were addressed by your proper title. So," he added with a grin, "if I may help you to mount, my lady?"

Surprised, Edwina raised her eyebrows, mild re¬sentment flashing through her as she accepted his assistance. Of course, an aristocrat like Hampden would want to have even a temporary possession marked as his own. He'd doubtless never considered that it might be easier for her if everything about their brief marriage were handled as discreetly as possible. Even under the best of circumstances, she'd have a great deal of unpleasant gossip to face down once he was gone and she returned to her former name and position.

A moment later she chastised herself for a lack of charity. It was most unfair for her to convict the lieu¬tenant, about whose character she knew so little, of blind self-absorption. The concern for the fate of his sister-in-law and her child that had driven Hampden to embrace so drastic a means to protect them cer¬tainly spoke well of him.

Of course, those kinswomen were of his own rank. In the unflinching light of day, would he be embar¬rassed by his hastily acquired bride?

A wave of remembered humiliation washed through her, shaking the calm she'd resolved to dis¬play and making her clench her teeth to keep back tears. By the time they reached the hospital tents, her empty stomach was queasy.

Well, she was no longer an infatuated maid with a head full of empty dreams and a heart to be bro¬ken, she told herself. If she dealt with Hampden in a sensible, matter-of-fact manner, surely any embar¬rassment either of them felt would be of short du¬ration and they could go about disentangling their lives with the cool dispatch that would be best for them both.

After they dismounted, Lord Sanbrook put out a hand to stay her advance. "Miles said he would like to speak with you privately, if you would permit."

Edwina damped down another wave of uneasi¬ness. "Since in his current condition, the viscount could hardly overcome me with the force of his ardor, I imagine I shall be safe enough alone with him," she replied, trying for a light tone.

"Then I will leave you to him," Sanbrook replied, clearly relieved to have been given permission to withdraw.

For a few more moments she tarried, watching Lord Sanbrook stride away. Time to begin bearing the weight of last night's hasty decision, she told herself. Then, squaring her shoulders and taking a deep breath, Edwina opened the makeshift door to the hospital tent. As she caught sight of her husband, her mouth dried and the words of greeting shriveled on her lips.

The man on the cot this morning, his big-framed body alert rather than slack-limbed, his face smiling rather than creased in pain, appeared to be master¬ing his injuries rather than succumbing to them. His color only a bit pale, Lieutenant Hampden watched her as she approached, his lips curved in a smile whose potent charm hit her right in the belly while his avid, blue-eyed gaze captured hers. "My lady wife! Please, do come in."

He looked, she thought, swallowing hard, some¬how much...larger than he'd appeared last night. Larger and far more virile and commanding than a man who'd taken a shot through the shoulder only last evening had any right to look. It seemed unbe¬lievable that this imposing man with the compelling eyes could truly be her husband.

For an instant, a vision from the dream that had awakened her—Hampden's arms around her, his torso rubbing hers—flashed through her mind, set¬ting her body aflame in all the appropriate places. She felt heat flush her face. Heart pounding, she forced herself to advance. Perhaps she ought to consider marrying again, she thought as' she struggled to recap¬ture her calm, if she were going to be prey to such lustful urges.

But not to a man as well-born and attractive as Vis¬count Hampden.

One such disaster of a marriage had been quite enough.

So THIS WAS THE LADY he'd married, Miles thought. Of course, he'd known by reputation the woman Sanbrook had suggested to him as a bride, but his per¬sonal acquaintance with her had been slight.

Miles studied the tall, slender form and graceful carriage of the young woman walking toward him, taking in the pale oval face around which light brown curls peeped from beneath her bonnet. Her eyes met his appraising gaze squarely, he noted with approval, only a slight flush on her cheeks testifying to what¬ever chagrin or discomfort she might be feeling.

Those eyes—ah, yes, he remembered her eyes from the first time he'd met her in her father's camp. Her cheeks flushing then as they were now, she'd raised them to him shyly as she'd murmured a greet¬ing. Large, lustrous eyes of a hue between green and blue that reminded him of the sparkling, aquamarine ocean off the Portuguese coast.

They were as mesmerizing as the husky, warm-as-melted-chocolate voice that had flowed over his ag¬onized body through the night and brought him ease. Indeed, he was more than half-convinced that, worn down by pain, exhaustion and worry, he might have yielded his spirit to those demons of the night, had that beguiling voice not kept him tethered to earth.

To his surprise, she curtseyed before taking the stool beside his cot. "Good morning, my lord. I'm de¬lighted to see you looking so much better."

So, she wished to be formal? Since he wasn't sure yet how to proceed, perhaps that was best.

"Thank you, Lady Hampden. I'm equally delighted to be feeling better. Though, given the extraordinary favor you have done me, might you consider calling me Miles?"

She smiled slightly. "I appreciate the honor, but since, the Lord be praised, it appears that last night's—arrangements—are no longer necessary, I would be more comfortable if we address each other as the mere acquaintances we shall shortly once again become. Indeed, if you wish, I am quite amenable to pretending the whole, ah, business never transpired."

A bit disconcerted by her seeming urgency to be quit of him, Miles shook his head. "I'm afraid it will not be so easy. At this distant remove from England, I expect we could probably get by with simply tear¬ing up the wedding contract, but vows uttered before a minister of God, whatever the setting, are ratiber more binding."

Her green eyes blinked before she lowered her face. Butterfly wings, Miles thought, distracted by the play of the long lashes against her fair skin.

"I see," his wife said in small voice. "So we shall have to apply for an annulment through the church?"

"I'm not sure. Under normal circumstances, an an¬nulment would be almost impossible to obtain. But," he added hastily when she looked back up at him, those lustrous eyes wide with alarm, "the circum¬stances being far from normal, I had hoped Chaplain Darrow might be persuaded to...disallow the pro¬ceedings. When I asked him about it this morning, though sympathizing with our situation, he informed me he did not feel he had the authority to do so and recommended that we consult the bishop's repre¬sentative in Lisbon. I have every intention of fulfill¬ing the hope that my wound will heal and the soil of Portugal will not, after all, be my final resting place, but until I am completely certain of that outcome, I would like to leave in place the legal protections for my family we were at such pains to construct. You understand my caution?"

She'd lowered her head again, her small even teeth worrying her lip—a rather lush Up, he noted with masculine appreciation. "How, then, do you wish to proceed?"

"I had intended to keep our compact secret—until the men in my company somehow learned about last night's wedding and came by this morning to either toast my survival or console my widow. I must beg your forgiveness for proceeding without first asking your approval, but I decided at that moment to con¬firm the news. I wish to show everyone I expect you to be treated with the same deference as if the wed¬ding had taken place in your family's private chapel or at St. George's instead of in a tent."

"So there can be no slurs or innuendo attached to my name," she said after a moment. Again color came and went in her cheeks. "That was kind of you, my lord."

Pleased at her understanding of his motives, he gave her his most charming smile. "You do not think you could try Miles?"

She shook her head firmly. "Lieutenant, or Hamp¬den, if you prefer, is more proper."

"I suppose for the present 1 must settle for Hamp¬den. Until we sort this out, it might be more comfort¬able for you to avoid the curious or impertinent by spending much of your time here, as a new wife would be expected to tend her wounded husband. While I regain my strength and we become better ac¬quainted, we can consider how best to resolve this matter."

"There is only one resolution that was ever con¬templated if you survived, my lord—a complete dis¬solution of the agreement. Surely you can understand my concern about that."

Once again, Miles felt stung. Then, his usual good humor reasserting itself, he said wryly, "And here I was, considering that since I'm already a rather fine fellow, becoming a titled nobleman of means would render me an irresistible matrimonial prize! But now that the news has gotten out, you must realize the considerable harm your reputation might suffer if we disavow the proceedings. I'm not in habit of mar¬rying ladies and then abandoning them."

She met his gaze steadily. "I didn't mean to be dis¬paraging. But 'tis nonsense to consider yourself in any way beholden to me, nor am I in need of assist¬ance. Since I intend to remain here with the army, where I am well-known and where the circumstances that prompted our bargain would be well-appre¬ciated, I doubt my reputation will suffer. I thought I made it quite clear to Lord Sanbrook last night that I would not..." Her flush deepened and she looked away, avoiding his glance. "That is to say," she contin¬ued, "there is no question of any, ah, reimbursement, other than your thanks for my assisting you through a time of great anxiety."

"You certainly did that. Even more, you kept me alive when Wilson had all but despaired of my survival."

"Well, he may have been worried last night, but from what I understand Dr. MacAndrews discovered this morning, it appears you were never in peril of succumbing."

"We needn't dispute that now. May I ask you for one more favor—to tend me until I am well enough to proceed to Lisbon? Your excellent nursing shall en¬sure that I do recover, and we will have time to dis¬cuss ending our bargain in the manner you desire."

Again she hesitated. Miles found himself more strongly driven to obtain her agreement than he could have imagined. "I promise not to be too much of a burden," he coaxed. "And besides, I want more of your story."

Mercifully, that brought a smile to her face. "I can't believe you remember any 6flt."

"Of course I do! 'Twas a fascinating tale, about a valiant prince and his faithful bride and a banish¬ment. You must tell me the rest."

She shook her head. "I can't imagine you are truly interested."

"But I am. The heroic scale of the saga you re¬counted reminded me of the Greek epics I studied at Oxford."

Looking pleased, she nodded. "The Rama stories are nearly as old. My ayah made each tale so won¬derfully vivid, she kindled in me a love of literature I still possess. Being a rather shy child, I naturally grav¬itated to reading."

"Your brothers or sisters did not bedevil you into more active pursuits?"

"No. 'Tis a harsh climate, as you may know, and Mama's other three children died as babes. Growing up mostly alone, encouraged later by a governess who also loved the classics, I became what the ton would call a veritable bluestocking."

"What better occupation for a bluestocking than to use her erudition to entertain her recuperating husband?"

He was treated to a pointed glance from those sea-green eyes. "Her temporary husband."

Miles grinned. "We shall see. I have no intention of making you a widow just yet."

Those exquisite eyes flared wider. "Twas not what I—oh, you're funning with me!"

He was still smiling at her indignation when Dr. MacAndrews walked in.

"Lieutenant, I'm pleased to find you well enough to converse. And 'tis good you are here, Mrs. Denby. You can assist in my examination."

"Lady Hampden," Miles corrected gently.

Looking at him in surprise, the doctor opened his lips as if to make some light retort. At the hard gaze Miles fixed on him, he seemed to think better of it.

"Excuse me, I meant no offense. It is just that I've worked so long with Edwina—Lady Hampden, and with the circumstances so.. .odd, 'tis difficult for me to think of her as your... Well, no matter." Turning to Edwina, the doctor said, "Might I ask your aide, ma'am?"

By the time the surgeon had done probing, Miles was more than ready to accept his wife's help in sag¬ging back against his cushions.

"Both wounds look good," the doctor said as he tightened the last bandage, "and I'm reasonably sure I got all the pieces of the ball that struck you. We'll know by day's end, for if I missed any, your fever will spike. You're bound to have some fever in any event. I understand you and your—" he raised his eyebrows and sent a faintly reproachful glance at Edwina "—wife hope to depart for Lisbon soon, but you'd best count on remaining here most of a week, to be sure that chest means to heal properly."

His head still woozy, Miles made no protest. "I.. .1 am not as keen on departing as I thought I was."

"Are you feeling ill?" Edwina asked, touching her hand to his forehead, concern in her voice. "Let me fetch you some water."

Despite the nausea clamoring for his attention, before she turned to go, Miles caught her hand and brought it to his lips. "That would be most kind," he murmured.

After he released her, Edwina stood for a moment >imply staring at her hand before turning on her heel to follow the doctor out of the tent.

With a sigh, Miles closed his eyes, which made the tent stop spinning and helped quell his queasiness. He'd done a good morning's work for a man who'd nearly stuck his spoon in the wall last night, he thought.

He'd convinced his reluctant bride to agree to nurse him. He felt deeply responsible for having led her into a dilemma of his making, and he wanted to be sure they had sufficient time to find a satisfactory way out.

He'd not been speaking lightly when he said he didn't marry a lady only to later abandon her. In full possession of his faculties, he'd made a vow before God, and though he may have thought when he'd pledged his troth that the span of time until death would part them would be measured in hours, still he had made a sacred promise.

His new wife was doubtless only being sensible in resisting the idea of remaining tied any longer than necessary to a man she hardly knew. Wounding as it was to his self-esteem, he was impressed by her inde¬pendence and lack of concern for worldly conse¬quence, for she surely realized that becoming a viscountess would mean a far easier, more privileged life than the one she now led.

Besides, assuming he survived, last evening's events only underlined the imperative that he marry and beget an heir. Since he'd already managed to acquire a wife, it might be wise to ascertain if they suited well enough for him to try to persuade her into making their temporary alliance permanent.

So HER HUSBAND was not as recovered as he'd first ap¬peared, Edwina thought as she carried out the water bucket. He must convey that impression of strength through sheer force of personality, since it seemed he was capable of convincing one to do almost anything, whether it be persuading the doctor to let him ride off soon to Lisbon, or talking her into continuing to nurse him. Especially since, given the intensity of the reaction he evoked in her, remaining near him was probably a bad idea.

It wasn't just his physical attractiveness—although that was far too compelling. As a soldier's daughter, she had a natural admiration for an officer whose troopers considered him courageous and resourceful, for who knew better the character of their com¬mander than the men he'd led under fire? In the short time she'd been connected with him, he'd shown himself a caring individual, too. Already he'd disarmed her resentment over his publicizing the wedding by explaining he wished to protect her from gossip.

She shook her head ruefully. 'Twas hard to be of¬fended by such consideration. And this morning, rather than simply making conversation to smooth over the awkwardness of their situation, he'd seemed genuinely interested in her upbringing in India and the colorful stories that one of the regimental surgeons, chanting to overhear her relating them to some of the wounded, had pronounced "heathenish nonsense."

Edwina smiled. In the eyes of his society, she offered him nothing as a wife, but at least she did have an endless supply of legends with which to divert him. The smile faded as she considered how alarmingly engaging Lord Hampden was turning out to be.  Given the fact that dissolving their marriage was going to take longer than she'd expected, she'd best take care, lest when he departed for England, she was left with something more painful than idle gossip to overcome.

She looked down at the hand he'd kissed, now clasped around the water bucket. The dratted thing still tingled.

Yes, she concluded with a sigh, spending a week in close proximity with Lieutenant Miles Hampden was probably a very bad idea indeed.

Chapter 5

SEVERAL DAYS LATER, Miles awakened from a nap to find his wife gone and Allen Sanbrook sitting by his bed.

"How about some ale?" Sanbrook asked. "Nothing like a bit of home-brewed to speed you back to health."

Miles accepted a mug and took a long sip. "Ah, now that's the taste of England!"

"Indeed." Sanbrook downed a swallow of his own. "Have you consulted Sergeant Riggins yet? With you making such a fine recovery, I imagine you shall be released to travel soon, and you'll want to have made progress on unsnarling your legal tangles." He took mother sip and sighed. "Probably have to wait until you reach Lisbon to sort out the religious ones."

"I don't plan to begin undoing anything just yet."

Why not? Surely there's no longer any doubt that you'll survive your injuries. And it will be better for the lady to undo the business quickly. I know you've tried to protect her, but the longer the marriage lasts before its dissolution, the more awkward her position is likely to be afterward. And she does mean to re¬main here. When I spoke with her yesterday, hinting that she might wish to accept a settlement and re¬turn to England, she froze me completely."

Miles chuckled. "That I can believe."

Sanbrook shook his head and laughed. "You'd think I'd accused her of entering into this arrange¬ment with the intentions of a grave-robber! She frost¬ily informed me that the matter of remuneration had been settled the night of your injury and she would thank me never to mention it again. Delivered the whole speech in such a top-lofty manner, she put me in mind of your grandmother. Now there was a tar¬tar! But as I said, if she's determined to stay with the army, it's bound to be damned awkward when you leave here without her."

Miles put down his mug. "At the moment, I have no intention of leaving here without her.",

Sanbrook's eyes widened in surprise. "You can't intend.. .that is, I don't mean to disparage Mrs. Denby, but—"

"Lady Hampden, if you please," Miles interrupted, his tone mild but his voice holding an edge of warning.

Sanbrook colored. "Urn, yes, Lady Hampden. Ah; I seel You will have her accompany you to Lisbon to make working out the details of the annulment eas¬ier. Probably wise."

"You mistake me, Allen. I'm not at all sure I wish to proceed with an annulment."

"Not proceed?" Sanbrook echoed, frowning. "I know you appreciate her coming to your aid, Miles, but that's carrying gratitude a bit far, don't you think? Her father is naught but the younger son of some obscure baron and I understand her late husband's family doesn't even recognize her. She's a fine, courageous lady, I'll grant you, but she could never be con¬sidered a suitable wife for a viscount. Only think what your grandmother would say were you to bring home such a bride for Christmas]"

Miles smiled. "I expect she'd say I should do what I like, and the rest of the family be damned. It is my wife we are discussing, not some theoretical lineage out of Debrett's. And if I am to see the same woman over the breakfast table for the rest of my days, I should prefer her to be one I like and respect. Besides, recognized by the Alveneys or not, she's said to a nabob's granddaughter. Nose it about that she has inherited great wealth, and all but the highest of sticklers will accept her."

Sanbrook angled his head, considering, then nodded. "Since there's no taint of the shop about her, that might answer. Luckily for you, the Hampden estate is well-breeched enough that you have no need of her supposed fortune to buttress such a claim."

"Neither encroaching nor a shopkeeper, but a won¬derful cook," Miles added, a grin breaking out as he lifted the cover from an iron pot on the table beside them, releasing a mouth-watering aroma. "Only see what an excellent stew she brought me. Savory chicken and vegetables, here on the siege lines out¬side Lisbon in November1. The best my batman has been able to manage of late is a few dried carrots. She told me she was a good campaigner, but I swear, the woman's a wizard."

"I hardly think ferreting out chickens in a war-ravaged countryside is a skill your family will appre¬ciate."

Miles's smile faded. "If they don't, they should. Come now, Allen, you know I wasn't bred to be vis¬count, nor do I have any inclination to spend my life in London, like some of the macaroni merchants we saw when we came up from Oxford. Indeed, her complete absorption with the trivia of the ton was what convinced me I wasn't in love with the blond chit I met that Season."

"The Magnificent Millicent," Sanbrook said drily. "Still the most exquisite creature I've ever beheld."

Miles shrugged. "I'll wager she couldn't wring a chicken's neck and make her recuperating husband the best stew he'd ever tasted."

Sanbrook broke into a reluctant laugh. "No, I'm quite certain she could not. But once you get back to Hampden Glen, you'll have servants aplenty to cook and forage. Your wife will be expected to occupy herself with very different duties—duties the new Lady Hampden may be ill-prepared to handle."

"I sincerely doubt there's anything she couldn't handle. What's more, I like her, Allen. She's the quick¬est study I've met in a female, understanding my meaning without my having to explain every point. Far from turning missish when her good deed de¬volved into this cursed coil, she's remained calm and reasonable. And in her own way, she's quite attrac¬tive, though she never resorts to feminine wiles to try to win her point. I think we could deal as well to¬gether as any couple who've made a marriage of con¬gruence, and better than most."

"You think," Sanbrook echoed. "But you're not sure yet what you mean to do. Remember, then, that you'll shortly be back in London, where you'll have a wealth of more suitable women eager for your attentions. Since the lady in question has indicated from the outset that she is perfectly willing to release you, ‘tis not a matter of honor to uphold the agreement.

Please, Miles, consider carefully before you make ir¬revocable an arrangement you may later come to re¬gret."

"Since I know you speak out of genuine concern, I'll take no offense at the advice," Miles replied tightly, sur¬prised by the depth of the anger evoked by his friend's disparagement of Edwina Denby. "But I'm becoming surer by the day that the current arrangement will suit me best. I'm less sure whether she'll agree to keep me."

Sanbrook looked at Miles incredulously, then burst out laughing. "Not keep you? A piece of that ball must have lodged in your brain 1" He picked up his mug and stood. "I've got watch, so I must go. Enjoy the ale—and your exemplary stew."

Miles stared thoughtfully at his friend's retreating back. He was reasonably certain that if he did decide he wanted Edwina Denby.to remain his wife, per¬suading her to agree was going to be a challenge.

AFTER NODDING TO Lieutenant Lord Sanbrook, who bowed as she passed him in the brilliant winter sun¬light, Edwina entered the dim hospital tent. As her eyes adjusted, she found her temporary husband lounging on his cot.

"Ah, my lady wifel Let me tell you again how ex¬cellent a stew you made," he said as he waved her to a seat. "My batman practically wept with jealousy."

Edwina felt herself flush with pleasure at Hamp¬den's praise. "I'm glad you enjoyed it."

"I did indeed. But now that I've stuffed myself, how about another story?"

"You would not rather have a game of chess? Papa said you may keep the board as long as you like."

Hampden shook his head and gave her that warmly intimate smile that always seemed to make her stomach flutter—fool that she was. "No, I'm feel¬ing so lazy after that excellent meal, you'd trounce me for sure. The humiliation of being beaten twice in a row might severely set back my recovery."

Edwina chuckled. "Considering by how narrow a margin I won, I imagine there's little chance of you suffering so horrid a fate. But if you prefer, of course I shall give you a story. Where did I leave off?"

"Prince Rama had been exiled to the forest, where his wife Sita insisted on accompanying him," Miles replied.

"Ah, yes. One day Prince Rama went off to hunt, but first warning Sita to stay inside a protective cir¬cle he'd constructed for her. But an evil ogre, ruler of a neighboring land, saw her all alone and was over¬come by her beauty. The ogre, who could quite con¬veniently change his shape, turned himself into a beggar seeking alms. Sita, moved by pity for his plight, was tricked into leaving the circle to assist him, upon which the ogre prince captured her and carried her away."

"Sometimes performing a selfless deed can have unforeseen and life-changing consequences/' Hamp¬den said.

Edwina opened her lips to agree, but something fo¬cused and fervent in his gaze stopped the breath in her throat. She knew the moment he said it that his comment concerned far more than her story, but was he referring to the sense of honor he felt made it im¬perative that he not abandon his chance-given wife? Or that the circumstances which brought two im¬probably matched individuals together had sparked something that was changing how he looked at the situation—and her?

As it was changing the way she felt about him.

She moistened her lips, held captive by the inten¬sity in his eyes, not sure whether to ask him what he meant or to once again ignore his remarks and pro¬ceed with the story. Before she could decide, he smiled, easing the tension, and said, "Please, continue."

"N-naturally," she began, her pulse still hammer¬ing hard enough to make her stumble a bit over the words, "Concerned when he returned to find his wife gone, Prince Rama became distraught. He could dis¬cover neither any trace of her nor find anyone who knew what had befallen her."

"Having one's wife disappear would be most up¬setting."

Hampden inclined toward her as he spoke, his voice nearly a whisper, the blue of his eyes deepen¬ing with a heat she recognized but could hardly be¬lieve she was seeing—in his eyes as he looked at her.

Her whole body went tense, flooded with a sweet urgency that compelled her to lean toward him even as he leaned toward her. His lips hovered at her cheek, the soft exhale of his breath carrying the scents of ale and spices. Her lips tingled, burned as she an¬gled her mouth up to his.

"Good, you're here, Lady Hampden," the surgeon's voice announced from the doorway, severing the pe¬culiar force that held her spellbound. Feeling color flood her face, Edwina jerked away as the doctor ad¬vanced toward them. "You can assist while I exam¬ine his wound."

Thank heaven the doctor had interrupted! she thought. The situation—and her emotions—were tangled enough without further complicating them by allowing her attraction to Hampden to have free rein. She'd best keep such urges in check, lest she give the strong-principled viscount greater cause to feel honor-bound not to release her.

Still, she thought wistfully as she helped MacAndrews rebandage the wound he'd pronounced as healing nicely, Hampden had meant to kiss her, she was nearly certain. Much as she deplored the feeling, she could not suppress the warm glow that suffused her at discovering the attraction she felt for him was apparently reciprocated.

Too unsettled by the experience to wish to remain alone with him, she said, "Since your visits always tire the lieutenant, doctor, I shall leave him to rest."

The doctor chuckled. "I seem to have that effect on many of my patients. Rest is a good prescription if you've a mind to be on your way to Lisbon shortly. Which, I believe, you may safely be in a day or so."

Edwina followed in McAndrew's wake. "Can I as¬sist you with any other patients, Doctor? I'm afraid I've not been much use to you of late."

MacAndrews shook his head. "I've had only the odd accident to tend. With winter coming on and the enemy departing, there are few wounded, thank the Lord."

"Lady Hampden," her husband called as she reached the doorway. As she glanced back, he gave her a reproachful look, as if fully aware of the reason behind her hasty retreat. "I'll rest now as you suggest, but please come back soon. If the doctor means to give me permission to travel in just a few days, we have much to discuss."

"I'll return in an hour," she promised, finding it hard to meet his gaze. With a quick smile, she escaped.

At least she'd have a short reprieve in which to re¬gain her composure. If she took up her story imme¬diately upon her return, maybe she could stave off the polite argument about their future she sensed was coming.

She'd been surprised at first to find he truly en¬joyed her stories. But, it seemed their minds often ran along parallel paths, just as his dry, understated humor frequently amused her.

Perhaps that was one of the reasons she found her¬self liking him so much. The deep-seated sense of re¬sponsibility that made him beloved of his men spilled over into the rest of his life, whether it be expressed in his feelings of obligation to her, for the welfare of the estate he'd unexpectedly inherited or for his dead brother's dependent family.

While that intense blue-eyed stare affected her in quite another manner. Just recalling it triggered an ache deep within her body that had no prospect of -eing eased.

She put a hand over the quivering warmth in her belly. Oh, this was bad.

She'd made a special effort to find that chicken and prepare him that stew. She'd wanted him to enjoy it. Worse, she'd wanted to impress him with her resourcefulness, and had derived far too much pleasure from his praise.

There was no point trying to make him think well of her. They were different sorts, and the sort she was did not belong in the world to which he was returning.

Even if, duty-bound, he felt obligated to take her with him, even if he held her in some affection, that would not stop the snide whispers and sidelong glances from his peers, who would look down on so woefully underbred a wife. The affection he felt for her would not change the fact that remaining his wife would mean a permanent exile from her loving, but socially inferior family.

Worse yet, she must face the unwelcome truth that she was already halfway to falling in love with him.

When Daniel had blazed into her life with his fair-haired brilliance and easy charm, she'd thought him a prince as perfect as the one in her nurse's stories. Not until too late had she learned he was but the pasteboard image of royalty, no more substantial than the face cards in a game of whist.

Miles Hampden, however, was showing himself to be the genuine article.

The longer she knew him, the more she admired him. After they'd been apart, she couldn't stop the little jump in her pulse when she walked into the hos¬pital tent and saw him again.

Lest she indulge the increasingly appealing temp¬tation of encouraging him to honor the vows they'd sworn, she'd better recognize the danger her deep¬ening emotions for him would mean, should their temporary marriage of convenience be made perma¬nent.

Quite simply, living with his polite affection could devastate her more thoroughly than the most cold and haughty indifference Daniel had shown her. For Daniel, after a searing view of his true character brought her infatuation to a sudden end, had never truly touched her heart.

The heart that, she realized with a hollow feeling m the pit of her stomach, Miles Hampden had al¬ready come dangerously close to capturing.

Chapter 6

As EDWINA CAME INTO the common room of their bil¬let after a nap, her mother looked up from her nee¬dlework. "I'm glad you rested, my dear. How is your husband?"

"Sleeping, at the moment. He must gather his strength, since Dr. MacAndrews said this morning that Hampden may soon be well enough to leave for Lisbon."

"Excellent!  You will accompany him, of course."

The pang she felt at refuting that assumption was far stronger than she'd like. "No, Mama, I don't ex¬pect so. You know we plan to seek an annulment. I can sign whatever documents are needed here before he leaves. It is better to begin going our separate ways sooner rather than later."

"Why should you separate?" her mother countered. "Only consider, my dear! Hampden is hand¬some, titled, wealthy, congenial—at your age and in this place, you can hardly expect to encounter a more attractive prospective husbandl He married you of his own free will, and I think you should hold him to it."

"Certainly not, Mama! Our agreement was meant to protect his family under very specific circumstan¬ces. Should I insist on his honoring the bargain after those circumstances have changed, I am certain he would do so, but he would have to despise me for cheating him of the opportunities a man of his rank should have to choose a more suitable bride. Indeed, I should despise myself should I play him so low a trick."

Her mother raised her eyebrows. "So you say, but I think you have both gone beyond the bargain you made that night. Oh, I know he isn't your beloved Daniel, but I don't believe you would have consented to wed Hampden in the first place if you hadn't, whether you realized it or not, harbored some warm feelings for him. My dear, 'tis time to let go the past tnd look to your future! Besides, it seemed to me when I spoke with him that he was nearly convinced to let the marriage stand."

“You've spoken to him?" Edwina replied, torn between resentment and alarm. "About me and our— stuation? When? What did you say?"

"I've visited him several times while you were rest¬ing," her mother replied. "What could be more nat¬ural than my looking in on my daughter's new husband? I know your feelings for Daniel may have blinded you to other men's attractions, but truth be told, I find Lord Hampden to be the more engaging. Not that Daniel wasn't handsome and his manners very correct. But your Lieutenant Hampden is much more approachable."

Searching for some appropriate response while she frantically tried to construct a plausible but un-revealing argument, she replied, "He isn't my lieuten¬ant, Mama. He never was."

That much was true enough, she thought with a pang.

"I believe he could be, if you'd make but a push to secure his affections," her mother replied. "If you could only hear with what warmth and admiration he speaks of you! And he's been so flatteringly anx¬ious to hear every detail I could relate about your life."

Color rose to her face as Edwina envisioned half a dozen potentially embarrassing scenarios her mother might have revealed. "Oh, Mama, how could you?"

"I told him nothing but the truth," her mother protested. "What a dear child you were, and so brave, like the time you saved your ayah from that snake by bashing it with a club. How kind and sweet you've always been to your mother, who isn't nearly as clever as her daughter and whom you must often find very silly. How deeply you loved your first husband, how long you've grieved over him, and how grateful I am to Lord Hamp¬den for awakening you to a future when I had began to despair of your ever moving beyond the past. You do care for Hampden, don't you, my dearest?"

Her mama had always been able to sense how Ed-wina thought and felt—which was why Edwina had been forced to distance herself from her parents dur¬ing her troubled marriage. To admit that her strong feelings for Hampden were the primary reason for in¬sisting this marriage be dissolved might raise uncom¬fortable questions about how, given her supposedly unshakable devotion to Daniel's memory, she could have suddenly have developed such a deep affection for her new husband.

Facing Hampden now seemed preferable to con¬tinuing this discussion with her far-too-perceptive mother.

"I do care for him, Mama," Edwina admitted at last. I m sure we'll work matters out to a mutually satis¬factory conclusion. But now I should get back to him."

The knowing look in her mama's eye as she made a hasty exit left her feeling distinctly uneasy.

THANKING HEAVEN Hampden didn't know her as well as Mama did, Edwina walked toward the hospital tent. Even if he insisted on talking about their future, she should be able to return the appropriate answers with¬out his suspecting her growing attachment to him.

She halted on the threshold in surprise, however, as she found her husband out of bed, pacing about the tent.

"Are you sure you should be up walking?" she asked.

He gave her the special smile that sent her pulse racing, even as she damned herself for the reaction. "I hope that means you're worried about me, my lady wife. But I need to build my stamina, if we are to ride to Lisbon shortly. I must say, it feels good to be up¬right again."

Still smiling, he came over and kissed her hand. Feeling her face flush, she tried not to snatch it back. Of course, he couldn't feel the jolt that raced through her at his touch, nor could he know the deplorable rush of joy she derived from that simple, courtly ges¬ture. As if she truly were his lady, and he found plea¬sure in seeing her.

Edwina, who was usually of a height with the men she encountered, was equally unsettled by having Hampden tower over her. 'Twas absurd to let his supe¬rior size make her feel somehow feminine, delicate—and tempted to surrender herself into his care like some spineless heroine out of a Minerva Press novel.

Keep your dealings straightforward and unemo¬tional, she told herself. "Won't you sit?" she asked, anxious to restore the equilibrium between them. "You don't want to chance setting back your recov¬ery. Then I'll continue my story, as you requested."

"Perhaps you are right," he agreed, obediently re¬turning to his cot. "Though I'm anxious to hear what happens next, first I'd rather we talk about our story."

Avoiding that too-mesmerizing gaze, she said, "Yes, we should finalize matters. I'm prepared to sign whatever papers you need to begin the annulment process."

For a moment he hesitated, and she thought with a flare of mingled alarm and gratification that he meant to ask again whether she still felt an annulment was necessary. "I suppose you could dictate a state¬ment here, with the chaplain as a witness," he said at last. "But I'd feel more confident of the matter being successfully resolved if you would accompany me to Lisbon. Indeed, the bishop's representative may in¬sist upon speaking with you."

'Twas ridiculous to feel let down. Had she truly ex¬pected he would now beg her to continue so unequal 3. union, simply because she made a superior stew and could match him at chess?

"I expect that would be prudent," she said, re¬lieved that her voice betrayed none of the agitation she felt.

"Good, that's settled. If you would feel more com¬fortable, I would be happy to have Mrs. Crofton ac¬company us. With Christmas approaching, she might enjoy some shopping in Lisbon."

The last thing Edwina wanted, on what would doubtless be a heart-wrenching journey, was her per¬ceptive mother close at hand. "I'm sure Mama would be reluctant to leave Papa. I can bring her maid, Juanita, as a chaperone."

"As you wish," he replied. "If you could both be ready to travel in two days, I believe MacAndrews can be persuaded to release me. Now, I should like that story."

He certainly was clever, Edwina thought resent¬fully as she seated herself. Within a few sentences, he'd surprised her into agreeing to accompany him to Lisbon when every sense warned that bidding fare¬well to him here, where she had work to throw her¬self into to ease the pain of parting, would be far preferable. "Where did I stop?"

"The prince's wife, Sita, had been abducted by the evil ogre who ruled the neighboring kingdom."

"Ah, yes," she said, ready to escape from the mud¬dle of her life into the safe realm of fantasy. "The ogre prince tried alternately to woo and threaten Sita into yielding to him, but she refused to think of anyone but her beloved Rama."

Smiling faintly, Miles watched his wife's expression as she wove her story. Strange that when he'd first met her, though he'd admired her fine eyes, he'd thought her otherwise rather plain. Probably because she'd been so shy, her voice low and her eyes down¬cast. But now, with her face animated, her hands ges¬turing and the sultry richness of her voice flowing over him, he found her as enchanting as the Indian princess in her story.

Every day spent in her company made him surer that continuing this marriage would be the best so¬lution for them both. Given what he knew of Lon¬don society, he figured his chances of meeting a lady who would make him a more congenial life's part¬ner than Edwina Denby were slim. In turn, he could offer her respect, friendship, material comfort and a life of purpose overseeing the welfare of his numer¬ous properties and tenants.

Still, when she'd given him a perfect opportunity to declare himself, he'd been unable to take it Though he sensed in her a growing affection for him, he'd been afraid to ask her to continue their rela¬tionship and risk a flat-out refusal. Better instead, he reasoned, to lure her to Lisbon on the pretext of constilting the experts and give himself more time to be¬guile Edwina into agreeing to make their temporary marriage permanent.

Unease stirred as he recalled her mother describ¬ing her continuing grief over her lost husband. An ir¬rational and surprisingly intense spurt of jealousy followed. She was his wife now and he wished her to remain so. As his body recovered, so too strengthened the desire to make her his in every way. If he could lure her into his bed and please her there, he could put a stop to this talk of annulment and perhaps loosen the hold her late husband still exerted over her.

Making love to her should also rid her of the no¬tion that he wished to continue their marriage merely out of duty. He certainly hoped so, for sometime over the last few days he'd gone irretrievably beyond that point. He now found himself very fond of his chance-given bride and determined to build a future together.

The sensual possibilities shimmered in his mind. Grinning, he told himself he'd best make sure he was recovered enough by the time they reached Lisbon to seduce her into sharing his vision.

Chapter 7

THREE EVENINGS LATER, Edwina lounged in the sitting room of the suite her husband had engaged upon their arrival in Lisbon. She was hard put not to pace the room while she awaited Miles's return from the British embassy.

At least, to her relief, their journey did not seem to have set back Hampden's recovery. Though to her discerning eye, he'd been fatigued by the time they arrived, he'd still managed to present quite the com¬manding figure of the wealthy viscount, awing the staff of the hotel he selected into a flurry of obsequi¬ous bowing.

Judging by the sumptuous nature of the rooms they occupied and the lavish meals brought them, Hampden must be dropping quite a lot of blunt. She danced toward the door, thinking ruefully that the servants hovering outside would treat her quite dif¬ferently, did they know how soon "Lady Hampden" would become once again plain Mrs. Denby.

By now she just wished to have it done with. It had become increasingly difficult to maintain a calm and disinterested facade when spending so much time in Hampden's constant and engaging company, espe¬cially with the landlord and all the world treating her as his wife.

Last night, thinking it best to bring to an end the sort of enchanted intimacy they'd shared while she spun her stories, she declined when he asked that she embellish the shortened version she'd given him of the Ramayana saga. She'd asked instead that, now that he could speak at length without distress, he tell her about his home in England.

She'd hoped an echo of the themes of lineage and duty upon which Daniel had condescendingly pon¬tificated would help distance him. Unfortunately, Hampden had shown he, too, was a gifted story¬teller, making her laugh with tales of his exploits as a boy and painting so vivid a picture of Hampden Glen, his friends and family, that she could nearly imagine herself there. Rather than being put off, she found herself filled with a wistful longing to meet his gentle sister-in-law and the niece upon whom he doted. To see the rolling hills and green groves of his home, so different from the India in which she'd grown up.

Perhaps after he returned home, she could write to him, inquire about his own and his family's well-being. They had grown to be friends over these past few days; surely he would agree to them remaining so.

It required little further reflection for her to real¬ize the impossible nature of her wish. His first duty, surely, would be to find a wife, and it would be no more easy for her to envision him with another woman in his arms than it would for that lucky lady to tolerate her new bridegroom's correspondence with a former, if temporary, wife.

No, she could play no further part in his life once he returned to Hampden Glen, even from a distance.

The one topic they'd carefully avoided during din¬ner last evening was the subject of the annulment.

After visiting the bankers this morning and send¬ing her off to shop, Hampden had gone to his ap¬pointment at the embassy. And so she waited with fraying patience to discover what he'd found out about the process of bringing to an end, once and for all, the bargain between them.

Resolutely she swallowed the lump of sadness ris¬ing in her throat. Truly, the break could not come soon enough. Each day, as Hampden recovered more of his health and strength, he drew her further into the cocoon of his protective care. Having been forced after her marriage to Daniel to rely completely upon herself, it was far too sweet a luxury to have some¬one else with whom to share managing all myriad small details of daily life.

More insidious still were the increasing small courtesies he extended her—handing her out of carriage, gripping her elbow as they went up or down the stairs, kissing her fingers when he left her or returned—affectionate touches she ached to re¬ciprocate. She shivered as she recalled how, last evening as he bid her good-night at the door to her chamber, rather than simply kiss her fingertips, he'd drawn her close and rested his lips against her forehead.

Desire had ignited within her at his nearness, heat¬ing her belly, making the tips of her breasts tingle, and requiring her to dig her nails into her palms to keep from raising her head so her lips could meet his.

Heat flamed anew in her body, just remembering it. Please, Lord, she prayed, let him bring back papers for her to sign tonight. Let her begin her sad and sol¬itary return to the encampment tomorrow, that she might escape the temptation of his closeness before the ever-strengthening urge to caress him led her to do something that would make him feel honor-bound to make their union permanent.

'Twas pain enough that when he left, he'd take her heart with him.

So on edge were her nerves, she jumped when the door finally opened and her husband walked in. Guiltily, greedily, she offered him her hand, then closed her eyes to savor each touch as he brushed his lips across the knuckles. Her heart rate sped and she drew in an involuntary breath when, instead of releas¬ing her hand, he turned it over and nuzzled her palm.

When he finally let go, she was so giddy she caught only one word in three of the apology for his tardy return.

"I hope you had a.. .useful meeting," she managed. Pull yourself together, Edwina.

"I've asked Manuelo to serve dinner in half an hour, if that is agreeable? We can have a glass of wine first."

A servant knocked even as he finished speaking. The several minutes required for the wine to be poured allowed her to settle her nerves before the footman withdrew, leaving them once again alone.

"Did you have a pleasant afternoon?" Hampden asked. "I'd half expected you to be sporting a new gown, though you look very charming in that one. Did you find what you required in the shops?"

"Yes, the linens here are very fine I obtained some handkerchiefs for Papa, lacework for Mama and the toy you asked me to purchase for your niece's Christ¬mas gift. I hope it will be suitable."

"I'm sure Beth will love it. But did you get noth¬ing for yourself?"

"I require very little," she replied honestly.

He gave her a reproachful look. "I wish you had purchased at least a few fripperies for yourself. Only imagine the enormous drop in consequence I shall suffer among the hotel staff if they begin to think I'm the sort of nip-parsing Englishman who begrudges his wife a new dress1."

Edwina gestured around the gold brocade and mahogany-appointed sitting room. "I'm quite certain you are already spending enough for this suite to es¬cape so lowering a fate." Resisting the little voice that whispered for her to put off the discussion until after dinner, she made herself ask, "And what did you dis¬cover?"

He took a sip of wine before giving her a wry smile. "Well you might ask, given how patient you've been, even if your anxiety to be rid of me is painful to my self-esteem."

"I'm not anxious to be 'rid' of you!" she protested, feeling as always the unwelcome blush on her cheeks. "It's just that, since we both know a union between us is not.. .suitable, it would be wiser to terminate it before..."

She made the mistake of looking up into his eyes, as he watched her with a heated intensity she'd found at first astonishing and which, over the last few days, had grown thrillingly familiar. An intensity that set off the familiar ache of need and desire.

She cleared her throat arid continued, "Before we grow more.. .entangled than we already are."

His smile faded. "I'm sorry you think so, for undo^ ing our bargain is proving to be as difficult as I feared. After reading the explanation provided by Chaplain Darrow and expressing his severe disapproval of the haste that prompted the marriage, the bishop's rep¬resentative declined to judge its validity. I must file a petition with the Archbishop's office in England, he said."

He took her hand and began stroking it. "I'm afraid you will be burdened with me a bit longer."

His fingers traced a lazy pattern from her knuckles up across her wrist to just under the sleeve of her gown. Scarcely able to breathe, her attention capti¬vated by the shiver of sensation he was evoking, it took a moment for his words to register.

"Nothing can be done here?" she asked, conscious of both dismay and a guilty surge of gladness. He would leave as he must, but the ties between them would not have to be severed just yet.

Even better, she realized, it would have to be easier to say their final goodbyes by letter rather than in a gut-wrenching few moments on the dock. Thank You, Lord, she whispered silently.

Then he banished all ability to think by raising her hand to his lips and kissing each fingertip in turn. '"Twill be such a bother to untangle everything. Are you sure we cannot simply leave things as they are?" He raised her chin, forcing her to look into his eyes. "I flatter myself you've grown a little fond of me."

"Y-yes. You've become a very good friend."

"Then don't you think we could rub along well enough together—at least as well as most married couples? I understand you loved your first husband deeply. Knowing what it is to lose someone so dear, might it not be more.. .comfortable to be married to a 'very good friend'?"

The mention of Daniel conjured up memories bit¬ter enough to dispel some of his sensual sway and stiffen her resolve Though the inequities in their re¬spective stations would make a union between them uncertain enough, it was precisely because she couldn't live with his "comfortable" affection that she must end this.

Gently she tried to pull her fingers free, but before she could speak, dismay filled his face and he said, "Pray, forgive me! 'Twas presumptuous and insensi¬tive to speak of him, for now I have made you sad again, which was the last thing I wished. Indeed, I was hoping that our...friendship might help you move beyond your grief. We do have much in common, and though I can't offer you anything as wonderful as the stories you've spun me or the exotic appeal of a life on campaign or in India, I can promise you a future of important, useful work. The Hampden lands are extensive and require a dedicated, capable mistress to oversee their well-being. You insist you are not part of the world to which I'm returning, but the truth is, nor was I bred to the role I must now play. You could help me as I learn to assume my responsibilities."

Edwina had to smile. "Yes, but having been neither born to that world, as you were, nor bred to its tasks, I hardly think there is much I could do to smooth your path."

He smiled back. "You could teach my cook to make a superior stew."

In an instant she was transported to the awful af¬ternoon when she'd learned the truth about her ap¬peal to Daniel. Furious upon discovering that she would not receive for several more years the inher¬itance upon which, it turned out, he'd been count¬ing, he'd snapped, "What other benefit do you think a wife like you could offer me, besides her fortune? I already have a cook and an estate agent to haggle over trade."

That old wound reopened, without thinking she flashed back at Hampden, "Perhaps I could also help your manager barter for a better price on wheat?"

Aghast, she damned her hasty tongue as a look of puzzled distress appeared on Hampden's face. "I'm sorry," he quickly replied, "that was clumsily put. I did not mean to infer that I intended to put you to work—"

"No, of course you did not," she interrupted, cast¬ing about for something to soften her remark. "I—I only meant that, what I've learned about directing servants on campaign or in India is unlikely to be of much assistance in England, so I could be of little use to you. That is—your estate is already prosperous, or so I've heard."

Mercifully, the frown left his face and he smiled at her. "The little I've been able to induce my wife to spend should make no serious inroads on my capital."

She smiled back a bit nervously. "That is fortunate. I stand to inherit a large amount from my grand¬father, but not until I am five-and-twenty. So at pres¬ent, I could not even offer you the advantage one would expect to derive by wedding an India nabob's heiress."

"The sole advantage I hope for is to keep close by me the lady who has become my very dearest friend."

As Hampden accompanied that softly voiced rejoinder with a look both heated and tender/ fortu¬nately for her sanity, at that moment, a knock sounded at the door. A procession of servants en¬tered bearing trays. While a half dozen attentive foot¬man attended them for the remainder of the lavish meal, their conversation turned to a discussion of the political situation in England and the army gossip Hampden had picked up at the embassy.

After the servants left them to their glasses of port, Edwina said, "I haven't eaten so well since I last vis¬ited Grandpapa's compound, where he lives quite like a raja!"

"I thought we would both appreciate a change from rabbit stew and scrounged vegetables. Won't you join me?" Hampden indicated a place on the sofa.

Edwina eyed the spot to which he invited her. Sit¬ting next to him was definitely not wise. But unable to produce a plausible reason to refuse, she came to perch gingerly beside him, all too acutely aware of him so close she could feel the heat emanating from his body and inhale the spicy scent of port on his breath.

"We can book passage on a ship leaving tomorrow," he told her as, senses already beginning to swim at his nearness, she tried to concentrate on his words. "Will you not come with me? Bringing home a bride would do much to restore to a grieving family the joy that should be theirs at Christmas. If you still insist upon nullifying our bargain, I swear I will do all in my power to accomplish that, but I expect the matter would proceed more quickly if you were present to give testimony and sign documents."

The point was valid, and it tempted her. But could she remain in his company and still resist him?

While she pondered that question, he set down his port and slid closer. "It might be prudent to spend more time together. I believe our friendship would only deepen, so if we discovered after returning to England that abolishing the marriage proved difficult, we might grow more amenable to letting it continue. You do consider us friends."

She ought to scoot away from him—but she couldn't. Savor it, the little voice in her head whis¬pered. He'll be leaving tomorrow.

"Y-yes," she said, struggling to ignore his lips and concentrate instead on his words. "We are.. .friends."

"We work well together—and laugh together, too. It's important to be able to laugh together, don't you think?"

He began caressing her hand from her wrist down to her fingers. Exhaling a long sigh of delight, barely able to follow his argument, she murmured, "Yes."

He moved his other hand to brush her cheek, then continued down her neck, across the long plane of her collarbone and lower, until the tips of fingers rested at the edge of her bodice, touching the top swell of her breast. "We could share even more," he mur¬mured. "You find me attractive, do you not?"

Without waiting for a reply—which was fortu¬nate, for she was by now beyond speech—he bent his head and kissed her neck. With a wordless gasp, she closed her eyes and focused on the sensation as his lips slowly traced the path of his fingers from her throat down her chest to the edge of her bodice, until she could feel the warmth of his breath against her breasts. Just below where his lips rested, her nip¬ples swelled and burned.

"I could please you," he whispered against her skin. "Let me show you how well we suit. If I fail to.. .sat¬isfy, I promise to let you go and implore you no longer."

Please. Satisfy. He wanted to make love to her.

With every nerve aroused, she battled to heed the faint warning in her brain that to yield would mean catastrophe, for she had no doubt that he would please her. And then she would be lost.

"I'm sure you could please us both. But.. .1 cannot."

"Why not?" he persisted, once again closing the dis¬tance between them and putting a persuasive arm on her shoulder. "You've admitted we share a deep affec¬tion. Why should we not pursue its natural extension?"

It was ludicrous to try protesting that she didn't find him attractive. But she simply couldn't confess that she had fallen top over tail in love with him.

She must invent some excuse to set him at a dis¬tance before her senses overwhelmed her judgment and his powerful appeal triumphed over her rapidly weakening resistance.

With her last bits of self-control, she threw off his hand, forced herself up and staggered to the hearth.

Breathing heavily, Hampden leaned back against the sofa. "Again, I must beg your pardon," he said after a moment of fraught silence. "I've repelled you with my forwardness."

"No, it isn't that!" she said, turning away from the fire to face him. "You must know I find you attrac¬tive. It's just that acting upon that attraction would be..." Disastrous. Irreversible. She thought frantically, trying to hit upon an appropriate word.

Then, suddenly, a means of escape flashed into her mind. "Unsuitable," she finished.

"Unsuitable?" he echoed, frowning. "In what way?"

"You see, though we share a...a fond friendship, you force me to confess that my emotions are already engaged."

She watched his face as he straightened, digesting her comment. "To some other man? Not your late husband?"

"Yes. To someone else/' she said, relieved by his re¬action and inventing her story as she went.

His frown deepened. "Indeed? Is this a recent at¬tachment? Your mother gave me no hint of it."

"She knows nothing about it. The gentleman in question hasn't made me a declaration yet, and though I am—or I was—in hopes that he might soon do so, until I was sure he reciprocated my esteem, I thought it best not to hint of anything to Mama."

"I see." Eyes narrowing, he regarded her with sus¬picion. "And who is this lucky gentleman, if I may be so bold as to inquire?"

Edwina took a deep breath. She'd hoped to avoid having to mention a name, but though Hampden seemed to have recovered from the embarrassment of having his attempt at seduction rebuffed, he was clearly not ready to let her off with less than a com¬plete confession.

Uttering a swift silent prayer that both the Lord and the surgeon would forgive her the falsehood, she replied, "Dr. MacAndrews. I've worked closely with him for more than a year now, you see, and a mutual respect and affection has ripened between us that, until your unfortunate accident, I felt might lead to our union."

She made herself stand unflinching under his steady regard.

"You believe yourself in love with Dr. Mac-Andrews?" Hampden asked.

"I am very much in love with the man I would hope to marry," she replied carefully.

"I see," he said again, rather stiffly. "And he recip¬rocates your sentiments?"

"I'm not sure. I have hopes that he might."

"And you would prefer to pass up the certainty of the affection we share on the hope that MacAn-drews might in time reciprocate your stronger feel¬ings for him?"

"I would prefer to retain that option, yes," she re¬plied even more carefully.

Hampden jumped up and poured himself another glass of port before turning back to her. "Why did you not inform me of this attachment earlier?"

"Well, you must remember that, at first, you were not expected to survive until the doctor's return. So under what was, you must admit, considerable pres¬sure from your friends, I agreed to our bargain, an¬ticipating there would be no awkwardness with Dr. MacAndrews that I could not later explain away."

His eyes narrowed. "And when I did not obligingly die? Did you talk with him then?"

"No, of course not. It would not have been fitting to discuss such a thing until the bargain between us was resolved. I thought that as your health improved, you would become as conscious as I of the unsuita-bility of the arrangement and be anxious to go about dissolving it. Since the matter regarding Dr. MacAn-drews is rather delicate, I hoped to avoid speaking of it. I only do so now because you've forced me."

He took another sip and nodded. "With my boor¬ish and forward behavior. For which, once again, I apologize."

He was angry, she thought, stifling the desire to try to mollify him. Well, she'd wanted to put distance be¬tween them. With him believing she cared for an¬other man, the honor that had forced him to uphold their bargain would now compel him instead to find the means to let her go.

Silly to feel so dangerously close to tears, when she was near to achieving precisely what she'd attempted. And if the odd scenario she'd invented gave him a dis¬gust of her, so much the better. "I accept your apol¬ogy," she said with as much spinsterly primness as she could muster, what with her senses still in rebellion and her heart feeling as battered as a shuttlecock. "Perhaps now I'd better retire. You plan to take that ship tomorrow, you said?"

"I said we—I—could do so if I chose."

"You should get some rest, as well. Thank you again for a lovely dinner, and good night."

Abruptly he paced forward and seized her chin in

one hand. "I will see you again in the morning. You'll not try to slip away in the night?"

"No, I won't go away," she answered, jerking her chin free and stepping back before he could notice that her knees were shaking and her hands trembling from the force of the battle raging within her be¬tween what she desired and what she knew she must do. So close were the tears brimming at her lashes that she would have agreed to almost anything to es¬cape. "I'll see you in the morning."

He gave her a short, brusque nod, his face now shut¬tered. "Then, may you sleep well, Lady Hampden."

Chapter 8

SLEEP WELL. Slim chance of it, Miles thought, watch¬ing Edwina walk with her usual calm to the door of her chamber. The door before which last night he'd kissed her, hoping to receive the invitation he craved to accompany her within.

Again tonight, he'd felt her trembling on the edge of succumbing to the attraction that, he felt sure, throbbed in her veins as it coursed through his. Until, clever fellow that he was, he'd brought up the memory of her sainted first husband and spoiled everything.

But that wasn't his worst error—or the greatest surprise. What a presumptuous fool he'd been, think¬ing he could convince Edwina that friendship was a strong enough base on which to continue their mar¬riage. He should have guessed that, having loved her precious Daniel, she would want no less than a com¬plete commitment if she wed again.

Surely there could be no other reason for her to prefer a man like Dr. MacAndrews—a man who hadn't yet even declared himself!

Which made Miles twice the fool. He'd come dan¬gerously close to nearly coercing her to accept his ad¬vances. Cringing at the memory, he downed his port in one swallow.

If he felt ashamed and angry at having made an idiot of himself, it was his own fault. True, Edwina Denby hadn't repulsed the steadily increasing in¬timacy of his advances, but neither had she actively encouraged him. He'd thought her major objec¬tion to their continued union to be the same far-radiddle about the difference in their stations that had concerned Sanbrook. He'd simply never con¬sidered the possibility, coxcomb that he was, that another man might have also perceived the quali¬ties he found so attractive in her and made a push to engage her affections.

The fact that her mother didn't know about MacAndrews made him feel a bit better. Prudent lady that she was, it seemed entirely reasonable that Edwina would not have confided in Mrs. Crofton until she'd received a formal offer, since, after arous¬ing expectations in her mother, it would be rather awkward to continue working with MacAndrews if those hopes were never realized.

Of course, the man would have to be an imbecile to earn the affection of a woman like Edwina and not capitalize upon it. No wonder MacAndrews had given him such a strange ldok when he found they were wed.

As his anger and embarrassment faded, Miles had to admit that beyond the shock of her revelations lay a deep disappointment—and more than a little jealousy.

As for the keenness of that disappointment, after having considered Edwina his for the last few days, it was only natural to feel like a blow the discovery that his plans for the future would be unrealized.

At least he'd had the wit to remain a gentleman, if barely. Upon learning that his lady's heart was set upon another, however strong his dismay—or jeal¬ousy, he could not in honor stand in her way. Espe¬cially after all she had sacrificed to assist him.

Miles poured himself yet another port, threw him¬self onto the sofa and glared into the flickering fire. What good was it having survived to return home a wealthy viscount with beautiful ancestral lands if he couldn't compete for the affections of his wife with an untitled, limb-hacking surgeon who offered his bride life in a tent?

Sanbrook and his friends, of course, would say he'd had a lucky escape. He now had a legitimate reason to return to England and petition to dissolve their marriage—which, contrary to what he'd told Edwina, he could probably proceed to do without her accom¬panying him.

He flinched again, recalling how, if not precisely lying, he'd stretched beyond its original meaning the prelate's simple statement that it might be wise to have Edwina present, should the archbishop wish to question her.

If Edwina remained adamant about the marriage's dissolution, somehow he must make it happen. He'd then be forced to trade his uniform for the togs of a London Tulip while this year's pack of proud ton mamas paraded before him a procession of overly perfumed, melody-screeching, harp-twanging virgins of impeccable lineage, all eager to acquire his name, title and blunt.

Unlike Edwina—proud, thrifty Edwina—who had disdained a new gown and purchased only handker¬chiefs, some bits of lace and the gift for his own niece he'd asked her to buy.

Something uncomfortable twisted in chest. But Edwina had made her choice clear. Despite their friendship and even admitting the physical pull be¬tween them, Edwina preferred returning to the army to beguile her surgeon.

While he must go to London, end their marriage and try to beguile a new bride.

An appalling sense of loss welled up from deep within. He doubted he'd find another lady with lus¬trous eyes like Edwina's, which had never flinched from the pain and horrors of the field hospital. One whose hands could effectively soothe a wounded man's agony, or whose warm velvet voice had kept a dying man tethered to life.

Despite the blow to his self-esteem, 'twas good that he hadn't succeeded in seducing her. For then, despite his pledge to contrary, he'd never have let her go.

Sighing, he sought out the decanter. Time for a good bit more of that port. Though he told himself 'twas his shoulder that ached, he knew in truth that the pain nag¬ging at him was centered lower, on the left side of his chest.

EDWINA CLOSED the door to her chamber and leaned her trembling body against it. She could have no doubt now that Hampden wanted her.

An insistent little voice asked her why desire and mutual affection could not be enough. Why was it so essential that she hold all her husband's heart, as long as she commanded his respect, upheld his name and, :n time, bore his children?

If she did not capture his whole heart, she an¬swered, 'twas unlikely she could retain even that af- fection he now felt for her, once they returned to a world that would disapprove of their union. Even Lord Sanbrook, whom she knew liked and respected her, had made no secret of his opinion that the bonds should be dissolved. She might have entered this marriage without her husband feeling the scorn Daniel had directed at her, but with all his friends and relations ranged against her, in time Miles would come to despise her as well.

Neither her pride nor her heart could tolerate that. Forcing herself to deny the temptation to go back to him, she wandered to the window.

The stars twinkling overhead promised fair skies and a good breeze for the ship that would carry Hampden away tomorrow. She placed a hand over her breast, where she could almost feel the imprint of his kiss still burning against her skin. Never in the worst days of Daniel's casual cruelty had she ached like this.

If only she could have taken his gift and still have been able to set him free!  Knowing that if she had succumbed, Hampden would consider them irrevo¬cably bound, did not quell the longing.

She'd experienced physical union during her mar¬riage when Daniel had condescended to take her, no more attractive bed-sport being available. But she'd never been intimately joined with a man she loved, who touched her with affection rather than idle lust.

Now she never would.

A tear slipped down her cheek. It seemed so mon¬strously unfair that she be .denied experiencing that joy just once, when she was already doomed to liv¬ing the rest of her life without him.

Maybe you can capture joy—just once.

The daring, dangerous thought startled her, made her hand clutch on the rich brocade of the curtain. Though she tried to dismiss it, the idea gained mo¬mentum, sweeping through her mind with the irre¬sistible force of tomorrow morning's tide.

If she had the temerity to proceed, Hampden might reject her as she had him. But if he chose not to—they could steal one night together, a night of ec¬stasy without consequences or regrets.

Of what significance was a bit of humiliation com¬pared to the chance of winning that?

Her decision made, she rushed to the wardrobe. Already the moon was high in the sky, and if one night was all she would ever have, she didn't want to lose another moment.

MILES WAS SEATED on the bed, shirt off and trousers half-unbuttoned, when a knock sounded at the door.

Excitement lanced through him, swiftly smothered by a dose of reality.

It could not be Edwina...or rather if it was, she would doubtless want to consult him about some trifling matter of business—passports or passage money or some such.

She didn't really want him. As husband or lover.

Irritated anew by that truth, he called out, "Go back to bed! We can settle whatever is necessary in the morning."

He didn't like admitting that if he allowed her into his room on any pretext, he knew he'd not be able to let her go without attempting once again to seduce her.

"Please, señor, mistress says I must see you."

The muffled voice speaking in halting English sounded like that of the Crofton's maid, Juanita.

Alarm succeeded his irritation. Had something happened to Edwina?

Snagging his shirt and refastening his trousers as he went, he trotted over to open the door. As he'd suspected, the maid stood on the threshold.

"What is it? What's amiss?" he demanded.

"My mistress sends me," the girl said, dropping him a curtsy. "She says milord's shoulder gives him pain. She sends me with salve to ease it, to help him sleep."

Only one thing would give him ease, he thought sardonically. "Tell your mistress I'm gratified by her concern, but 'tis unnecessary. My sleeping does not depend on ease for my shoulder."

As he started to close the door, the maid raised a hand. "Please, señor, Mistress will be angry if I do not obey."

The poor girl did indeed appear to be trembling, in addition to having swathed herself in that veil all the local women wore—probably to protect her maidenly eyes from the shocking sight of a gentleman half-undressed. "I promise your mistress won't beat you, child. Go to bed."

Instead of retreating, though, the girl stepped closer. "Please, seńor. It will bring you.. .pleasure."

His senses were a bit wine-soaked, but suddenly it dawned upon him that the figure of the girl looked startlingly familiar. Leaning forward, he caught a whiff of jasmine—the scent to which his mind had clung on the awful night of his injury, blocking out the stench of blood and fear.

Edwinal He was certain 'twas his erstwhile wife, not her mother's maid, seeking entrance to his cham¬ber.

She must have changed her mind—so why the deception?

"Please, señor, may I come in? It will take little

time to soothe you. Then you may sleep undis¬turbed."

A slow grin formed on his face. Whatever her rea¬sons for this charade, he was more than happy to ac¬commodate her. He'd be a fool if he didn't ensure the "soothing" lasted until dawn—and he had no inten¬tion of being a fool twice tonight.

Chapter 9

"VERY WELL, if your mistress insists." Still smiling, Miles stood aside to let the veiled figure enter, his fa¬tigue and melancholy vanishing in a heat of erotic an¬ticipation. "What would you have me do?" he asked, trying to keep the amusement out of his voice.

"Sit there, on the bed, milord. I will do all."

That sounded promising. The mere thought of what she might do made his body harden while he de¬posited himself as instructed.

She came over to stand beside him, unbuttoned his shirt and carefully drew it off his injured shoulder. Breathing in again her scent of jasmine, Miles grew even surer his midnight visitor must be Edwina.

The flickering light of the single bedside candle outlined the swell of her breasts straining against the too-tight bodice of the maid's gown. He felt himself harden further, his fingers itching to release the taut garment. He wanted to bury his face between the soft jasmine-scented mounds, let his eager tongue tease her nipples to swollen peaks while his fingers delved lower....

Shifting on the bed in his now uncomfortably con¬fining trousers, he bit back a groan and stilled the hands already reaching toward her. For now, he would restrain himself and see what she would do next.

First she folded his shirt—oh, his tidy Edwina— and set it aside. Then she extracted a small bottle from her apron pocket, poured onto her hands a scented liquid and gently applied it to his shoulder.

Warmed by her body, the oil flowed smoothly over his skin. She began massaging it into his shoulders, the top of his neck, down his back. After a few mo¬ments, his eyes fell shut and a sigh of sheer rapture escaped his lips. So exquisite was her touch, it almost competed with the desire throbbing in his breeches.

But not quite. Mustering up words with an effort, he said, "Would you rub also.. .my lower back?"

Her hands obligingly descended, extending the magic of her massaging fingers down his back and flanks. After another few timeless moments of bliss, however, she paused.

As he scraped together wits enough to wonder if her mission had indeed been merely medical, she poured more oil on her fingers and applied them once again to his shoulder. But instead of working the muscles of his back, she inched down his chest, cir¬cling closer and closer until her fingers almost touched his nipples, teasing them as he'd envisioned teasing hers. He stifled a groan, his arms going rigid as he struggled to keep himself motionless. Just as he thought he could stand no more, she captured the sensitive peaks and rolled them in her oil-slick thumbs.

A blast of lust roared through him. He wanted to sweep up her skirts, toss her onto the bed and take her that instant. But with his pulse and every other part of him throbbing, he dug his fingernails into the bed linen and made himself remain still.

A mission that became increasingly difficult as her fingers resumed their slow descent, tracing along his ribs and stroking the upper curve of his belly. He thought her breathing grew more rapid and uneven, but it might be only the thunder of his own heart¬beat in his ears.

Her fingers paused at the top of his trousers, then dipped beneath, coming oh-so-close to what he badly wanted her to stroke.

Retreating instead, she tugged at his waistband.. "Remove these, please," she said, her voice breathless and the accent less pronounced. "Then I can.. .finish."

Before she had time to step aside, he had the but¬tons of the trousers undone. In one motion he shucked them and his drawers onto the floor and sat back on the bed.

This time, he knew he was not mistaken about hearing her long, slow exhale of breath, followed by a charged silence as, from behind her veil, she stared at his naked, completely aroused body. Excited by the idea of her watching him, he leaned back to give her a fuller view.

"What would you have me do next?" he asked.

Without answering, she whirled around and paced to the bedside table. "Tis not.. .modest for a maid to see you so," she said, and extinguished the single candle.

Miles chuckled softly. Modest or not, she'd taken time to look her fill before remembering her maid¬servant's role. What next would she desire?

"Lie down, milord, that I might ease your back."

'Twas the tightness in front he most wanted eased, but again, obedient to whatever fantasy she wished to play out, he lay facedown. "Now that darkness preserves your modesty, will you not remove your veil?" he asked over his shoulder. "So when you... minister to me it does not come loose and become stained by the oil."

To his delight, a faint rustling told him she'd taken his suggestion. Hard as he tried, though, he could make out nothing in the inky darkness that cloaked the chamber.

Then she began massaging him again, and all thought drowned in a tidal rush of sensation.

As if freed from restraint by the darkness, the mo¬tion of her hands became frankly sensual. Her fingers outlined his ribs, rounded and molded his buttocks, circled over the tops of his thighs and down between his legs, which he parted, encouraging her to stroke lower still, where his buried cock pulsed in anticipa¬tion of her touch.

He groaned when she followed his lead, tracing the juncture of his thigh until her fingers fondled him, igniting another bolt of sensation and ripping a cry from his throat.

As if pleased by his response, she stroked him there again and again, until unable to he still any longer, he rolled to his back and seized her wrists. "Ease me... here," he gasped, curling her fingers around his swol¬len length.

For an instant he feared he'd been too bold, for as he released her wrists, she pulled her hands away. Before he could gather enough words for either protest or apology, he heard the faint clink of the glass container, then the sibilant sound of pouring liquid. As he waited, barely breathing, she wrapped her oil-slick hands around him and slowly massaged his entire length.

Sweat beaded on his chest, his forehead as his hands fisted on the sheets and his legs and torso clenched, arching into her touch. She began to stroke him rhythmically and he moved with her, caught up in an erotic trance of her making.

He knew his control was swiftly eroding. As wonderful as this was, he wanted more, wanted his sweat and oil-slick body sliding against her as he buried himself in her warm depths, wanted her bare breasts free to his mouth and tongue, wanted to feel her spasm around him as he exploded within her.

Past reason or speech, he grabbed the material of her skirt, bunching it up to seek the skin beneath. An instant later, she yanked the cloth free and in a rus¬tle of skirts, climbed onto the bed and straddled him.

A single thrust of her hips plunged his oiled cock in to its full length. He wanted her to pause so he could rip loose the bodice imprisoning her breasts, dispose of the skirts that barred his way to bare skin. But she leaned forward and found his mouth, her tongue seeking his urgently, her slippery hands bit¬ing into his shoulders as she arched into him and withdrew, arched and withdrew.

And then there was no time for anything but meeting her thrust for thrust as she rode him, her breathing a gasp that rose to a sob and then sharp cry as she tensed and shattered around him. An instant later, keening with her, he followed her into oblivion.

When his brain finally resumed functioning sev¬eral minutes later, Edwina lay collapsed atop him. A wave of affection swelling his chest, he hugged her close, content to listen to their ragged, panting breaths.

'Twas unaccountably erotic to lie there, still inti¬mately joined, the prim, proper lady who had nursed him so devotedly now stretched against his naked body while she remained almost entirely clothed, her modest maid's gown buttoned up to her chin. In¬deed, he could already feel his spent member begin to stir.

Stroking the damp curls off her face, her kissed her. "Thank you for giving me... ease. But I need still more."

She stirred and he felt the butterfly-light brush of her lashes against his chin. "More?" she asked, surprise in her voice.

He chuckled, setting off vibrations in his torso that brought him into pleasing contact with her moist, tight depths. "Yes, more. Soon. But the material of this gown scratches. You must remove it."

He felt her smile against his fingertips. "Mistress said to obey you in all things." With the lazy ease of a cat she stretched and then sat astride him, reach¬ing behind her to undo the bodice, as if unconscious of how each rocking movement made him harden within her.

At last she unhooked the final fastening and tossed the garment aside. Her breasts bounced free into his waiting hands and he moved eagerly to caress them, his mouth thirsting for their taste.

The skirts would have to wait. Quickening his pace within her as he pulled her down to him, he wished he'd not drawn the curtains against the moonlight, for he burned to watch the rosy tips of her nipples stiffen as he licked them. Next time, he promised himself as he fastened his mouth on one and sucked greedily.

A shudder passed through her and she cried out, sparking an answering throb in his cock.

Threading his hands under her disheveled skirts to cup her bottom and pull her more firmly against him, he released the hard pebbled tip and whispered, "Now, sweeting, let us both seek ease."

HOURS LATER Miles woke to find the sun a halo of gold against the still-drawn curtains. Sighing with glorious repletion, he turned over in a tangle of sheets, not surprised to find his audacious Edwina gone.

He glanced about the chamber but, tidy as ever, she'd left no trace of her midnight intrusion. To be fair, he thought, chuckling, that maid's gown was prob¬ably fit now for nothing but to be hurled into the fire.

No matter. He would gladly buy the maid a dozen gowns to replace the one that had emboldened his surprising wife to pleasure him.

After last night, there could be no more twaddle of annulments and unequal stations in life and duplicitous, unworthy surgeons: In her ministering angel dis¬guise, Edwina had bound them inextricably together, surpassing in the bargain his lustiest imaginings.

Suddenly he was filled with the need to see her. Would his mere presence remind her of the bold ca¬resses she'd given him in the darkness and bring that endearing blush to her cheeks?

Too impatient to deal with neckcloths and buttons, he threw on a dressing gown and went out. Surprised at the intensity of the joy that swelled his chest as he walked over to kiss her cheek, he said, "Good morn¬ing, dear wife."

Keeping her eyes downcast, she turned her face away while—yes—a blush rose to her cheeks. "Good morn¬ing. As it seemed you wished to sleep late, I instructed Manuelo to wait on breakfast. Shall I ring for it now?"

He slipped beside her on the sofa. "Yes, I found last night's activities wonderfully fatiguing. I'm surprised you are not still resting, as well." He picked up her hand, intending to kiss it, but she quickly snatched it back.

"I had much to complete—packing, the disposition of your kit. When must you be at the ship?"

"Mid-morning. We shall have time to breakfast and settle with the hotel before we set off." The faint warning bells in his head rose in volume as she sidled away from him.

"I...I rather thought we would say our goodbyes here," she said, not meeting his glance. "Not on the docks amid a throng of onlookers."

Despite the inner voice warning something was wrong, it took a moment for the meaning of her words to penetrate. "Say our goodbyes?" he repeated, halting in the act of pouring himself coffee. "I under¬stand you wish to inform your family of our depar¬ture, but surely they were expecting it. Could you not write a note?"

She shook her head. "I'm not leaving with you."

He set the cup down with a thunk, an odd flutter in his chest, still trying to deny what her words seemed to indicate. "If you simply must see your fam¬ily again, I suppose I can delay my departure a few more days, though I do need to proceed home as quickly as possible."

"There's no need to delay. I meant I'm not return¬ing with you at all. It may take a bit longer to pro¬cess the annulment without my being present, but I promise to sign and return the papers the instant I receive them. I thought.. .I  thought we settled all of this last night."

"So did I—when you came to my chamber!" he barked, anger rising in turn with his dismay. Surely she didn't mean to deny what they'd shared!

Her blush deepened. "You are mistaken. 'Twas mama's maid I sent to massage your shoulder last night. I've already chastised her for her...enthusi¬asm. If you please, I don't wish to speak of it further."

He could almost believe her an outraged spinster whose maid he'd unthinkingly debauched. Almost.

Except for the scent of jasmine that teased his nose and the fact that she would not meet his eyes.

He took her chin and forced her to look at him.  “Edwina, what nonsense is this? I didn't understand last night why you felt it necessary to come to me in disguise, but 'twas no maid who spent the night in my bed. Why are you trying to deny 'twas you?"

Her color still high, she shook his hand free and met his gaze calmly, a chill in her eyes. "It most cer¬tainly was the maid. After confessing to you my in¬tentions about Dr. Mac Andrews, how could you msinuate that I would indulge in bed-sport with a man I did not love? Tis a grave offense against my honor."

He could only stare at her, uncomprehending. "You do mean to deny it," he said slowly. "And send me back to England alone, to dissolve our marriage? How can you claim to have honor and do that?"

Her chin rose a notch higher, her gaze growing frostier still. "If we have but a short while longer to be together, my lord, let us not spend it insulting each other." She turned from him to her coffee cup.

A caustic mix of incredulity, outrage, anger and hurt roiled in his belly. "So this is how you mean to end it? We'll break our fast, you'll bid me goodbye and send me to the ship while you return to Torres Vedras?"

"Yes. ‘Tis what I expected to do from the first. ‘Tis what we agreed upon."

“ 'Twas not what I agreed to, he thought, and then suddenly realized she was correct—the myth of her returning with him had ever been solely a creation of bi§ 8WB ffijfld: Th? sharp edge of his anger blunted against the hard certainty of impending separation.

"You expect me to depart and simply forget the woman who saved my life?" Forget the woman who had surprised and shocked and captivated him through the whole of one long splendid night, he added silently.

"Preserving your life was God's gift, not mine," she countered. "Now I'll go give Manuelo his instructions."

Before he could think how to stop her, she rose from the sofa and went out the door.

Incomprehension turned to frustration and a rap¬idly reviving anger. Why would she share his bed and complete their union, then turn her back and seek to pull them asunder? It made no sense.

'Twas an insult—almost a betrayal of what he thought they'd shared. A raw sense of loss bubbled up from his gut, stinging like acid on his already flayed feelings. With a curse, he seized the coffee cup and hurled it into the hearth, where it shattered into a hundred fragments.

Rather like his heart.

THREE HOURS LATER, Miles clomped up the gangway of the merchant frigate Reliant, scheduled to set sail on the afternoon tide for England. Would that the sharp sea breeze of the journey might succeed in Wowing out of his heart and head all thought of Edwina and the pain of her leaving him.

He didn't think it likely.

He hadn't, after a rather desultory effort, man¬aged to persuade her to see him as far as the ship. In¬stead, after allowing him a single kiss of her cheek, she had bid him goodbye in their rooms at the hotel.

In the hours since Edwina's shocking denial, he'd found himself going over and over last night's in¬credible encounter. As wonderful as it might other¬wise have been to discover so deliriously wanton a side to Edwina, he supposed he should congratulate himself on what now looked like a providential escape from spending his life as a cuckold. A fate that surely would have been his, if Edwina were so free with her favors that she could blithely seduce him while intending to many another man. Still, Edwina behaving in such a way seemed completely out of character for the woman he'd come to know.

As he reached the main deck, he saw a group of wounded soldiers, some limping, some being carried on litters.

Grateful for the diversion, he thrust his gloomy thoughts aside and went to lend them assistance.

He'd almost reached the small group when he recognized, leaning over one of the Utters, the unmis¬takable figure of the surgeon, Dr. MacAndrews.

Miles skidded to a halt. His first instinct was to change direction and avoid the man. Then again, if he were being forced to relinquish his wife, he could at least discover if the man she preferced returned her regard.

Not that finding out would do much good. But as he hesitated, intending to walk away, memories from last night attacked his senses. The sound of oil pour¬ing into warm palms... The scent of it and her as she massaged it into his skin... The feel of her drawing his length between her fingers and thrusting him deep into her body.

While desire and despair and fury warred for dom- inance in his brain, his feet began moving. A mo¬ment later, he found himself at MacAndrew's side.

The doctor spied him before he could speak. "Going home at last, Lord Hampden? Congratulations!"

"I understand good wishes are due you, as well—if the happy event Edwina hinted about is soon to occur?"

The surgeon stopped short, his face coloring. "Ed¬wina mentioned it, did she? Well, the good wishes are a tad early, but 'twill not be too much longer now, I trust!"

At that avowal, Miles's last, secret hope that Ed¬wina might have been dissembling crumbled. Ap¬parently Mrs. Denby had trifled with his affections and lured him to bed, giving him a tantalizing glimpse of a future the doctor's words had just confirmed to be a lie.

He hadn't felt such a sickness in his gut since a horse kicked him at Talavera. Hurt and fury suffus¬ing him in equal measure, though he'd meant to choke out a goodbye and turn away, he found him¬self compelled to speak.

Perhaps the doctor needed a pointed, if veiled, warning about the woman he intended to wed.

"I sincerely hope your marriage will be as blissful as you anticipate—given the character of your in¬tended bride."

Dr. MacAndrews stiffened. "Just what do you mean, sir?"

"Only that your prospective fiancee's desire to succor the wounded sometimes carries her to, shall we say, excessive lengths," Miles retorted, glorious memories of Edwina's midnight ministrations again filling his head.

The surgeon's offended look turned puzzled. "Suc¬cor the wounded?" he repeated. "Are you still in pain, my lord?"

"No, I am much recovered." In body, if not spirit.

"You've not taken laudanum? Your memories must be muddled, then, for you seem to have confused the time you lay wounded with what Edwina told you of my plans. I love my Alicia dearly, but she faints at the mention of blood."

Miles grew still. "Alicia?"

"Alicia," the surgeon repeated, a bit impatiently. "The young lady Edwina told you I intend to marry."

Miles took a deep breath, wild hope emerging from his initial confusion. "Apparently I have mud¬dled it. Your Alicia is not a nurse at the camp?"

The doctor laughed. "Good heavens, no! I'd never allow her within a mile of such a place. No, she's at home with her family in Kent, longing for my return as deeply as I long to return to her, I hope."

"I see. An excellent young lady, Edwina said." You scheming little minx, he thought as the doctor rattled on about his beloved.

He didn't know why Edwina had concocted such a Banbury tale, but he did know he wasn't leaving Portugal until he found out. After excusing himself to the surgeon, Miles loped to the gangway.

He'd have to hurry if he wanted to catch his exas¬perating, infuriating, baffling wife before she left for Torres Vedras.

Chapter 10

BACK AT THE HOTEL, Edwina paced from her elegant chamber out onto the balcony. Her baggage had been carried downstairs, but still she lingered, gazing over the Lisbon rooftops toward the harbor.

She would wait just a bit longer, until the ship bearing Miles to England sailed by. If he chanced to be on deck, she might catch one last glimpse of him.

Their chilly parting earlier this morning had extin¬guished the last tiny spark of hope that Miles might declare he truly loved her and beg her to honor their vows, despite her supposed attachment to the sur¬geon. At which point, she would reveal she loved him as well.

She shook her head. Surely the bitter past should have taught her better than to indulge in such fairy tales.

What was she to do with herself after the end of this short-lived marriage? Despite the desire Miles had awakened in her, the incredible rapture of last night's intimacies had bound her so closely to him she now found it difficult to imagine giving herself to any other man. Perhaps it would be better to hold with her original plan of setting up her own establishment.

Perhaps the indelible memories of that single night with the man she loved would be enough to help her endure a lifetime of emptiness without him.

A knock at the door roused her from her contem¬plations. Probably it was Manuelo, asking if she were ready to depart. Her eyes still fixed on the view of the harbor, she walked over to open the door. And then stood astounded to find Miles Hampden on the thresh¬old.

"Y-you're not on the ship?" she stuttered.

His unsmiling gaze pinioned her in place. "I found I had unfinished business here. If I might enter?"

She simply couldn't bear playing their parting scene again. "Please, there can be nothing further to say."

Ignoring her outstretched hand, he strode past her :nto the room. "I thought I could leave, just like that," he said, turning to face her. "But I found I could not. At least, not until I ask you about what I learned this morning from Dr. MacAndrews."

"Dr. MacAndrews!" she echoed, belatedly closing the door and following him to the sofa.

"Yes. I met him just now on the ship, evacuating some of the wounded. By the way, I told him to send our compliments to his fiancee, Miss Alicia Went-worth, who resides with her family back in Kent."

Damn and blast! He'd discovered her deception, she thought, then realized she should have immedi¬ately pleaded ignorance of the engagement and ex¬pressed a feigned outrage at the doctor for leading her on. Well, perhaps 'twas not yet too late. "I.. .I had no idea! To think that he—"

"Edwina, enough. Admit it, you fabricated that story about MacAndrews out of whole cloth."

Edwina hesitated. She might try to bluff her way out of this tangle, but she didn't think she was that good a liar. Perhaps if she served up just a portion of the truth, it would be enough to get him quickly out of this room—before her yearning for him shredded what was left of her good intentions and she begged him to stay.

"I knew you felt honor-bound to uphold the bar¬gain, all the more so as our...friendship grew. I needed a reason for you to release me that would leave you feeling truly free to return home and find another wife, a more suitable lady, of whom your family would approve."

"Perhaps the highest sticklers in society will con¬sider the match between us shockingly unequal, but I expect many will envy me. Snagging an India nabob's heiress for your wife is always good ton."

"Don't you see? It would never suit!"

"But we suit, Edwina. Have the last ten days not demonstrated how well-matched we are in prefer¬ences, perceptions, wit? Did last night not show how even better we suit in delightfully intimate ways? So why persist in trying to send me away? I think you owe me some better explanation. After all, 'tis an in¬sult to my honor that, despite my protestations to the contrary, you seem to think I'm not capable of up¬holding the vows I made to you."

"Tis not that!" she protested, trying to come up with some other plausible explanation. "Tis just..."

"Is it because of what happened between you and Denby? Because he wooed you into wedding him, as¬suming you were already in possession of a fortune, and was furious when he discovered he had to wait for it?"

For an instant, shock like a dunking in the icy waters of the Douro stole her breath. "Who told you that?"

He shrugged. " ‘Tis the conclusion I came to just now, on my way back from the docks. It simply wasn't reasonable for you to be so opposed to our union be¬cause of the disparity in our stations when you'd al- ready been married to a man of similar standing. Un¬less, despite what everyone seems to believe, the union wasn't a happy one." His voice softened. "It wasn't happy, was it?"

At that unexpected question, all the aching sorrow she worked so hard to contain seem to burst free of its restraints. For a moment, she struggled to keep the tears back and halt the flow of painful memories.

Perhaps, after all they had shared, he deserved the complete truth—since he'd stumbled upon most of it anyway.

"No," she admitted. "The union was not a happy one."

"Denby dissembled to you about his feelings, didn't he? I cannot imagine you agreeing to wed a man who wanted only your inheritance, no matter how much in love you may have been. But if it was the fortune he wanted so badly, why did he not dis¬cover the terms of it before you wed? For neither can I imagine you deceiving him."

After all the half truths she'd fed him, she felt grat¬ified that he still believed she possessed that much honor. "I didn't. The first time he mentioned my for¬tune, I hastened to inform him of its conditions."

"And yet he wed you anyway, thinking it worth the wait? And in time you discerned his true feelings?"

She smiled, a bitter twist of the lips. "It happened sooner than that." She looked away, the humiliation of the memory making her unable to meet his con¬cerned gaze. "Several weeks after he began courting me, he took me walking in the Queen's Gardens. I was mad for him, too young and stupid to realize what he truly desired of me, and delirious with joy when he kissed me and said he wanted me for his bride—his very rich little bride. His ardor began to cool when I had confessed I wouldn't become an heiress for several years, but just then two of his friends burst out of the shrubbery and caught me still in his arms. Having been found in that compromis¬ing situation, my reputation would be destroyed, he told me, if we did not become engaged."

"So you felt compelled to marry him?"

"No—at least, not at first. After he called on Papa and, I imagine, had confirmed what I'd tried to tell him about my fortune, he was furious. He avoided me for days. Having by then had time to realize his true sen¬timents, when he finally did call, I told him there was no reason to continue the engagement. I would cry off. He informed me that was impossible—for a Denby of Alvaney Court to be jilted by a provincial nobody would make him a laughingstock. Besides, having de¬termined in the interim that my eventual fortune would be all he'd hoped, he knew his papa would agree to pay off his debts—which, it turned out, were mas¬sive—and fund him until I received my inheritance Distasteful as it was for him to marry so far beneath him, he would make the best of it, and so must I."

Miles uttered an oath. "You were still so in his thrall you settled for that?"

"I thanked him for the honor of his offer and told him I considered our engagement over. He warned me if I insisted on crying off and ruining his plans, he would tell my parents he was relieved that honor no longer compelled him to marry the daughter of a man of mediocre family serving in a third-rate regiment, whose mother was the vulgar offspring of a jumped-up Cit. That his friends had seen how I'd lured him into the garden to trap him into making me an offer, and soon the whole cantonment would know I was an ill-bred girl of questionable morals."

"Your papa should have shot him."

"I suppose I should have found another way out, but Mama was so delighted with my excellent match, Papa so proud and happy for me that I couldn't bear to think of the hurt and embarrassment they would suffer if Denby carried out his threat. So I married him."

"Bastard! You are a thousand times too good for him."

Edwina smiled wryly. " ‘Tis certainly not what he believed."

"How did you endure it?" Miles asked softly, reach¬ing out to stroke her cheek.

She closed her eyes at his touch, the painful memories somehow eased in the telling. "As one does any¬thing unpleasant. And by vowing I would never allow myself to be placed in so untenable a position again. I hope now you understand why you must let me keep that pledge."

"I understand why you've been so insistent on end¬ing our agreement. But do I have no say in a matter that concerns me so nearly? Am I not permitted to plead to keep the companionship of a woman whose courage, intelligence and resourcefulness fill me with admiration? Who has come to occupy such a central place in my life that I cannot imagine living without her? Do you care for me so little?"

She opened her mouth, closed it, that last, most dangerous confession trembling on her lips. The one she dare not make. "I do care for you," she said instead.

"How much, Edwina?" he demanded. Then, before she could imagine what he meant to do, he pulled her close, his mouth coming down hard on hers.

She might resist his words, but to pull away from the touch she yearned for so desperately was beyond her power. With a moan of despair and need, she clutched him fiercely, opened her lips to the invasion of his tongue, pursued it with her own, putting into the last kiss she would ever have from him all the pas¬sion she'd been denying, and the love that consumed her soul.

When at last he broke the kiss and cradled her against his chest, she could not bear to look at him. Knowing she was close to losing the battle to restrain her tears, she tried to pull away.

He refused to free her. Tilting her chin up, he de¬manded again, "How much do you care for me?"

It was too much; her nerves and will were worn past resisting. "All right, I admit it—I love you! And so I cannot subject myself to the misery of remaining wed to a man who holds me in a merely familial affection. Please, let us keep the bargain we made. Take the free¬dom I offer you and find a woman you can truly love."

His gaze grew fiercer, more insistent. "If that is how you feel, let me propose a new bargain. It may have taken a French sniper's bullet to get my atten¬tion, but I've now had two weeks to discover what a treasure was waiting right before my eyes. I love you, too, Edwina. Will you agree to remain my wife—not for my title or fortune or even to bless my family with your caring presence—but so that I may hold forever the woman who has completely captured my affec¬tions? I must warn you, I'm not prepared to let you go unless you swear to me that you cannot give me your heart, as I have yielded you mine."

For a moment she forgot to breathe as she took in the enormity of the declaration he'd just made. "Oh, Miles, I gave you mine long ago."

"Then let us share our first Christmas together, my dear wife, while we plan for our future. The Lord gave back me life—ryou offer me freedom. Now I would freely pledge my life and love to you. And is love not the greatest gift of all?"

He loved her, loved her with the same passion she felt for him. Though she could still scarcely believe it, she had no doubt how priceless was that pledge.

Miles let her go and dropped to one knee. "Edwina Denby, will you do me the honor of remaining my wife, to love and to cherish until we are parted by death? Oh, and I promise to furnish an endless sup¬ply of scented oil."

Over the burst of joy swelling her chest, Edwina could feel the blush suffusing her cheeks. "When you phrase it thus, I suppose I must say yes."

With a whoop of triumph, Miles bounded to his feet and captured her in a hug. "Excellent!" he cried as he released her. "Now, what with nearly forcing the man who loves you to sail out of your life, you've had a distressing morning. I believe it must be time for some soothing—at my hands." With a wicked grin, he tugged her toward his chamber.

Edwina couldn't help but smile back. "Let me place myself in your hands, now and forever, my dearest love." And with that, she willingly let him lead her away.

THE END