My True Love

Jo Goodman

San Francisco , 1875

Raleigh Montgomery didn't know why he was surprised. Even from her sickbed his grandmother was trying to foist her wishes on everyone from the cook to the city council. Perhaps the surprising thing was that he had avoided this particular trap until now.

"Are you listening to me, Raleigh?" There was an edge of impatience in Millicent Montgomery's tone. Her grandson was staring at her politely but with a certain blankness in his expression that warned her his interest had already wandered. He was masterful at keeping his thoughts to himself but Millicent recognized the signs of his quiet rebellion. "It's no good thinking you'll get out of it," she said firmly. "I'm quite set on the idea."

Sitting at her bedside, Raleigh stretched his long legs in front of him and leaned back in the cream brocade wing chair. He rubbed his knee absently. Outside the skies were overcast and the first fat droplets of rain splashed against the window. The pain would ease now that the clouds had opened up.

"Is your leg bothering you?"

He realized he was massaging it and withdrew his hand, laying it on the curved arm of the chair. "A little," he said. Nine months ago he had been trapped by fallen timbers and rock when the entrance to the No. 12 silver mine collapsed. It had taken a dozen men ten hours to dig him out. He had survived because of the stone pocket that had formed around his head, which had given him air and protected his skull. He never lost consciousness. He had had an eternity to contemplate his own death, or life without the use of one of his legs. Awareness had been a mixed blessing. The pain in his crushed leg had been excruciating and there had been moments when he would have welcomed death.

But, Raleigh Montgomery reflected, he had inherited a stubborn, willful streak from his grandmother. The same refusal to give up or give in that kept Millicent Scofield Montgomery going at eighty, saw Raleigh through at thirty-three. It was probably his own brush with death that had prompted his grandmother to make this latest outrageous demand. Knowing Millicent as he did, she had been planning it since he returned from the Nevada mine, waiting for just the right moment to spring it on him. Now that he was walking again, she no doubt thought he was fit enough for other, more intimate, activity. Raleigh had no intention of explaining to his grandmother that from his experience being bedridden had never been a deterrent. If she had realized that she would have begun to apply pressure months ago.

"Have you been doing your exercises?" Millicent asked, her clear blue eyes focused sharply on her grandson's face. She would know if he lied to her.

"Religiously until this morning," he said gravely. His gray eyes concealed his amusement but there was a faint, ironic smile lifting one corner of his mouth. "An audience with you has upset the schedule, I'm afraid."

"Don't be impertinent," she said sternly. "It isn't as if I commanded your presence here."

He laughed softly, rose stiffly to his feet, and laid a kiss on his grandmother's cool cheek. "That's exactly what you did, Grandmother, so it's no good denying it." Raleigh settled back into his chair. His grandmother was flustered for a moment before she busied herself by shifting the pillows at the small of her back and rearranging the blankets that covered her legs. He didn't miss her pleasure at his spontaneous display of affection. "And here I am," he said. "Ever the dutiful grandson, prepared to do your bidding in an effort to remain in your good graces." He paused a beat, then added dryly, "And in your will"

"You are impertinent."

"Yes, ma'am." He watched her struggle to keep her smile in check. "You're looking remarkably well, however," he said. "I don't expect to hear that I've come into the family fortune anytime soon." His grandmother made an effort to affect frailty. Her slender shoulders fell forward and she lowered her chin a few notches. When she smoothed the blankets this time, her hands shook ever so slightly. "It's no good, Grandmother," he said calmly. "I've talked to your doctor. He assures me you're in fine health."

"I have pneumonia."

"You have a cold."

"That's hardly fine health," she pointed out. "It could become pneumonia."

"It could become pneumexico, but I don't think we should worry about it. Dr. Harvey says you're going to outlive us all." He smiled faintly as she sniffed her disapproval. Nevertheless he saw her lift her shoulders and chin and resume her regal posture. He could almost make out her silent plotting. "And you can't let Dr. Harvey go because I pay his bill," Raleigh said.

"That's why he tells you I'm fiddle-fit," she said tartly. "I'll be seven days dead and stiff in this bed before he'll admit it to you. He knows a golden goose when he sees one."

"So do I, Grandmother." He rose to his feet again but this time he reached for his ebony walking cane so he could remain standing. "That's why I'm not going to let anything happen to you."

"Then you'll do as I've asked," she said confidently. "I assure you, my good health rests entirely in your hands."

"Tomorrow is Thanksgiving," he told her. "I can hardly present you with a great-grandchild by Christmas. At least not one of my own making. It will take at least nine months, you know." Millicent's mouth puckered with censure. Raleigh was uncertain if it was his plain speaking or the inevitable delay to her plans which prompted her reaction. "I trust your fragile constitution can survive that long," he said dryly.

"I'm sure I would feel better if you had a young lady's hand by then," she said, her tone a trifle wistful. She watched her grandson's handsomely sculpted features take on a certain rigidity. His eyes were as gray and cool as the overcast skies and his right hand rested with white-knuckled intensity on the knob of his cane. "I don't want a bastard," she told him. "If that's how you thought to honor my request then put it out of your mind. It is an unsatisfactory solution and will certainly put me in my grave. I raised you better than that and I deserve more regard and respect. Besides, not all women are like Catherine Hale. It's high time you stopped mourning a woman who isn't even dead."

Raleigh 's eyes narrowed fractionally. A muscle worked in his lean cheek but he accepted the putdown without comment. "Good day, Grandmother," he said quietly.

Watching her grandson's uneven gait as he crossed the wide expanse of her bedroom, Millicent felt some regret for her words. She shouldn't have mentioned Catherine Hale. Raleigh had been desperately in love with her but she had been more interested in finance than fidelity. Millicent never knew if Raleigh understood the key role she had played in making certain he discovered his fiance's liaison with his best friend. It had been ten years ago and they had never discussed it in all that time. Until a few minutes ago, Millicent had never even mentioned Catherine's name. But she had never forgotten her. Raleigh had made that impossible. His discovery, the betrayal by both a lover and a friend, had raised Raleigh 's guard. On occasion he dropped it for her but she had never seen him drop it for anyone else.

His remoteness had served him well in business. The reserve, the distancing, had kept competitors guessing at his strategy. He had negotiated land contracts with the government for western rail lines. The interest was low and the profits enormous. The completion of the transcontinental rail six years earlier had raised Raleigh 's own stock with his investors and board. He had backed the Central Pacific and the deal had quadrupled his worth. The family fortune was in mining but Raleigh didn't see it as the Montgomery future. There was no way to know how long the earth would give up its bounty of gold in California or silver in Nevada . Whole towns had already gone bust.

Perhaps it had been Catherine Hale who had taught Raleigh not to put all his eggs in one basket. In business and in pleasure, Raleigh Montgomery cultivated a variety of interests.

From belowstairs Millicent heard the front door close. She hoped her grandson wasn't so angry that he would foolishly attempt to walk the distance from Nob Hill to the financial quarter. Sighing, she leaned back against the scrolled walnut headboard. The smooth crown of her hair was even whiter against the dark wood. Her hands were folded in her lap and she stared at the portrait on the far wall, her eyes pensive. Unchanged by the passage of time, her beloved son and daughter-in-law seemed to return her gaze. She wished they were with her now; i hey would have known how to handle their son. Instead, they reminded her of the unexpected and tragic turns life could take.

Millicent's resolve hardened. Twenty years ago she had lost her husband in a riding accident; her son, seven years later at Bull Run . An earthquake fire took the life of her daughter-in-law and the part of her grandson that hadn't been claimed by Catherine Hale, Millicent had almost lost to a mine collapse. She could not watch the family die in her own lifetime. Raleigh had a duty to do by his grandfather and his parents, and yes, by her as well. She could only hope that he would come to see it that way.

Linden Street let the curtain fall back in place as soon as she saw Raleigh step out of his carriage. She knew the instant she saw his face that his leg would not support him. She had even opened her mouth to call a warning but realized that she would never be heard. Running from her bedroom, which had the front street vantage point, Linden called out to the servants to attend her outside.

It had been raining intermittently throughout the day. The lull was appreciated now as the housekeeper, two maids, the butler, and a cook's helper all followed Linden onto the wet pavement. The carriage driver had already climbed down from his perch and was assisting Raleigh to a sitting position. Careless of her gown, Linden knelt beside him and ran her hands along the length of his injured leg.

"Get the hell away from me," he snapped. Pain made his voice tight. Embarrassment made him swear. He actually pushed Linden 's hands away when she didn't comply immediately. Out of the corner of his eye he saw her lean back suddenly, her face flushed, her expression stricken. Still, she managed a dignified response. Raleigh

Montgomery couldn't imagine a situation where she might have offered less.

"Mr. Simmons, Mr. Fine, help Mr. Montgomery to his feet," she said with quiet authority. She stood and backed away as the driver and the butler hunkered beside their fallen employer. "Support him under the arms. You may have to carry him. Kwei Po, take Mr. Montgomery's cane. He won't be able to use it."

As the cook's young helper moved eagerly to obey, Raleigh was fighting with Simmons and Fine. "I will not be carried," he fairly growled.

"Molly, Hsia To, please bring Mr. Montgomery's chair." The maids hurried off, disposed to do Linden 's bidding if only to remove themselves from their employer's hard and angry stare.

"I don't need the damn chair," he said. He didn't call to the maids who were already out of earshot. His protest was addressed to Linden , who was fast becoming the focus of all his terrible fury.

"Mrs. Adams," Linden said to the housekeeper, "if you'd be so kind as to see that a bath is drawn for Mr. Montgomery and that his bed is turned back, I would appreciate it."

"Of course," the housekeeper said. "I'll see to everything. He'll take the evening meal in his room, then."

Linden nodded.

"I'm not dead," Raleigh said sharply as he was ignored by both women. "I'm not even an invalid. I'll take dinner in the dining room." He tried to move away from the support on either side of him and felt his injured leg give out immediately. If not for the redoubled efforts of Simmons and Fine, he would have kissed the pavement a second time.

Mrs. Adams's look was straightforward and knowing. When her employer of a dozen years could stand on his own feet again she'd take her orders from him. In the meantime, she was quite willing to let Linden Street have her way. "I'll see to everything," she told Linden . "You'll want warm towels and liniment"

"And bath salts," Linden replied. "Thank you, Mrs. Adams."

"Traitor," Raleigh said under his breath. If the housekeeper heard, she ignored him. Kwei Po was running up the walk to help the maids with the wheeled chair. They brought it down the granite steps, then let Kwei Po roll it along the sidewalk.

Linden waited patiently while Raleigh held his ground when the chair was placed behind him. Simmons and Fine weren't going to force him into it and neither was she. But in this particular battle of wills, she was confident of who would be standing in the end. She merely regarded him solemnly with a level stare while his frosty gray eyes chilled her.

White lines of tension and pain creased the corners of Raleigh Montgomery's mouth. "You work for me," he said tightly.

"Yes, sir. This is what you've hired me to do."

"Then I'm letting you go."

"Very well," she said calmly. "I'll collect my things now." Linden turned to go.

"Damn you, Miss Street ." He sank in the chair and let Mr. Simmons begin to push him. A raindrop splashed the back of his hand. The chair picked up speed as the butler tried to beat the rain. The driver helped Simmons lift the chair up the steps and wheel it in the house. Kwei Po followed, stepping lively and tapping the cane that was only a few inches shorter than he was.

Raleigh had to stare at Linden 's stiff, narrow back as they followed her up the expansive main staircase to the second floor. He noticed she had a tiny waist and her hips rolled ever so slightly as she took each step. One of her hands glided delicately along the banister but he knew the lightness of her touch was an illusion. Her long, lean fingers had the same steely strength as her spine.

Linden opened the door to Raleigh 's bedchamber. "Help him with his clothes, Mr. Simmons. I need to get my apron." Her gray day dress was already stained with water so a little more shouldn't have mattered. In truth, it didn't. Linden needed a moment alone to collect herself before she bearded the lion in his den.

The water was hot, the salts soothing as Raleigh leaned back in the tub. As relaxed as he was, he was alert to the sounds Linden made while moving about in the adjoining room. She had a soft tread, a silent and graceful step that he admired all the more in his current state of awkwardness. "What are you doing in there?" he called brusquely.

Positioning the rack, she wanted to say. Affixing the thumbscrews. "Warming a pan for your bed," she said without inflection.

"Well, don't make me shout at you. Come here."

Linden steeled herself, first drawing in a calming breath, then letting it out slowly. Her reflection was captured in the full-length mirror on the other side of the room. She saw that she was worrying her lower lip. She released it and laid the warming pan aside. Her hands smoothed the crisply starched material of her apron. She began rolling up the sleeves of her gown as she walked into the adjoining dressing room.

Butter wouldn't melt in her mouth, Raleigh thought, as Linden approached his bath. She was incapable of warmth and, with the exception of a brief lapse in front of the others earlier, she was almost incapable of being ruffled. He recalled the stain of pink across her cheeks. Until then he hadn't thought he could rile her.

He didn't raise his head when she approached. His '

gray eyes were hooded as she folded a towel several times, laid it down beside the tub, then knelt on it. She might have been praying, with the bath as an altar. Raleigh 's lip curled slightly. He harbored no illusions that she worshiped him. It was more likely he was the sacrifice.

Long, dark lashes shaded her eyes as she reached across the copper tub for a washcloth. Raleigh didn't have to see them to know the pale violet color of her irises would darken slightly as she bent to her task. Her slender hands opened the cloth and she dipped it in the water. Tendons stood out sharply on the backs of her hands as she wrung it out. It was not the first time Raleigh had noticed the combination of beauty and strength.

Thick ebony hair framed an oval face. The features were evenly placed, given to a serenity of expression that was calming to others. The brows were dark, lightly feathered and perfectly arched over wide-set eyes. Her complexion was smooth and unlined. It had the vigor and health of youth, though she was closer to thirty than not. Her mouth was perhaps the only feature not suited to her face, for it was too wide and the lower lip a shade too full to meet the strict discipline of fashionable beauty.

She bent forward over the tub. There were beads of perspiration at the hollow of her throat. A few loose strands of hair clung damply to her long neck.

"Can you raise your leg?" she asked.

Her question was posed quietly and followed by a silence that Raleigh had come to expect of her. She was always patient in waiting for a reply. With some effort, including the assistance of both his hands and the buoyancy of the water, he raised his injured leg just enough to hook his heel on the edge of the tub. Water dripped over the side and splashed the hardwood floor and Linden 's crisp apron.

She placed her hands on his damp leg, one over the knee and the other on his ankle. There were jagged scars on the shin and calf where splinters of wood from the falling timber had gouged him. The bones of his leg had knit better than anyone, save for Raleigh Montgomery himself, had hoped for. His knee was still stiff and his ankle weak but because of Linden 's prodding and manipulation, combined with Raleigh 's own efforts, the muscles of his leg hadn't atrophied. The limb was straighter and firmer than the doctors had predicted would be the case at the onset of treatment.

"How far did you walk today?" she asked. Her hands moved firmly along his shin and calf. The damp hair on his legs was crisp under her touch. She ignored the surface texture and probed deeper, feeling for the hard muscles beneath the skin, inspecting for the damage that had been done to tendon, joint, and sinew. Linden kept her eyes on the injured leg. Bath salts had clouded the water but if her gaze strayed she knew what she would see. The sight of a naked man didn't embarrass her but she would be hard pressed not to let the comments that would surely follow get under her skin. "How far?" she asked again.

Raleigh permitted himself a small, satisfied smile. He had already answered her question, but she hadn't heard. Linden Street wasn't as self-composed as she appeared. "From Grandmother's halfway to the office," he repeated.

Which meant he had taken Powell Street . The steep hill was hardly suited for walking in any circumstances. He had deliberately tested the limits of his endurance. Milli-cent Montgomery had warned Linden that her grandson would be a challenging patient. Thus far, challenging hardly described Linden 's experience. "Only halfway?" she asked, gracing him with a swift, sidelong glance. "That isn't like you."

Raleigh winced as her fingers kneaded with more pressure than he thought was strictly necessary. Tight knots of muscles began to work loose under her touch and he wondered if he was flattering himself by assuming she was angry. "The damn leg buckled under me when I stepped off the curb."

"Then you were lucky," she said, "because if you had somehow managed to force yourself there, you could have done irreparable damage to your knee." She rubbed her palms together hard and swiftly, allowing friction to heat her skin. She laid them over his knee.

Heat suffused Raleigh 's flesh, traveled up his thigh, and radiated across the flat expanse of his belly. His shoulders stiffened slightly and his fingers tightened on the rim of the tub. He pulled himself upright and hunched forward. "That's enough," he said grimly. His groin was throbbing.

"But I—"

"That's enough." His voice was gritty this time, terse and husky. He looked pointedly at the hands which were still lying over his knee. They were lifted quickly, as if the heat had suddenly been turned on her. He dropped the leg back into the water. "I'll want to soak a little longer. I'll call you when I need you."

Nodding, Linden got to her feet and left. She busied herself in the bedroom, folding the towels that Mrs. Adams brought and warming the sheets of Raleigh 's bed with the long-handled pan. At Raleigh 's brusque order, her heartbeat had quickened and it was refusing to slow. A glance in the mirror assured Linden that none of the disconcerting turmoil she felt inside showed on her face.

She sat on the edge of a maroon-and-cream-striped wing chair, perched as calmly as a bird. Although she was as familiar with this room as she was with her own, she enjoyed looking around. The room bore her employer's masculine stamp. His hairbrush and comb sat neatly on a black lacquered tray on the highboy, a lather brush and a shaving cup beside it. This morning's edition of the Gazette was lying unopened on the darkly stained oak bedside table. Raleigh 's gold pocket watch and chain rested on the table on the opposite side of the four poster. The spindles of the poster bed were carved without excessive scrollwork or ornamentation. The headboard was a smooth arch with no embellishments across its panel.

The windows were large and when the maroon drapes were drawn back there was a lovely view of the garden and pond behind the mansion. French doors opened onto a balcony with a heavy stone balustrade. When it was warmer, Linden had wheeled Raleigh onto the balcony to take advantage of the fresh air and sunshine. Sometimes she exercised his leg out there. More often she dragged the small writing desk out and left him alone to do work that he insisted could not wait.

Linden rose from the chair and poked at the fire. She added a log and moved the stack of towels closer to the heat. Her eyes studied the photographs on the mantel. Among them was a sepia-toned daguerreotype of Raleigh 's grandfather. He was posing with four other miners, all of them wearing loose flannel shirts, dungarees, wide-brimmed, shapeless hats, and carrying flashing pans or picks. She had no difficulty recognizing Millicent's husband, although she had never asked to have him pointed out. Raleigh Montgomery shared many of the handsome features of his grandfather.

Linden 's attention was pulled away by the sound of splashing in the other room. He had said he would call her, but, of course, he hadn't. Without announcing herself, she reentered and was just in time to slip her shoulders under Raleigh 's arm. In another moment he would have collapsed heavily into the water or stumbled out of the tub altogether. In either event he would have risked further injury.

his arm around her shoulder again. She was a slight thing, he realized. He had always known it but then in situations like this, when he was next to her, it struck him with some surprise to have it confirmed afresh.

In spite of the differences in their height and weight—he had seven inches and eighty pounds on her—she held him so solidly he had no fear of falling or even stumbling. She guided him to the bed and didn't release him completely until he was sitting. The pillows were plumped behind his back as he scooted toward the headboard and leaned against it. Linden 's fingers curled around the hem of his dressing gown and drew it modestly over his thighs. He smiled to himself as she turned away to get the towels warming near the fire. Her figure was trim and her skirts swayed around the length of her long legs. In profile, with the exception of the high curve of her full breasts, she was reed slender. He watched her pick up the towels and raise them to her chest almost defensively. The gesture piqued his interest.

Linden 's step faltered as she turned toward the bed. Raleigh was looking at her with that remote expression that revealed nothing about his thoughts. She only knew that the outcome did not usually bear well for her. When she reached the bed she pressed a warm towel into his hand. "For your hair," she said.

Raleigh took it and ran it briskly through his hair. Linden was already raising his leg and placing towels beneath it. The movement made him grimace but he held back the groan. From the pocket of her apron she retrieved a brown bottle of liniment and uncorked it. She poured some of the clear liquid into her palm, put the bottle aside, then began massaging his leg. She began at a point just above his knee and worked her way down slowly. He watched her hands dissolve the tension in his muscles and let himself appreciate the penetration of heat into his joints.

Water dripped freely from his arms and chest and the curling tips of his dark hair. Linden thrust her hip against the smoothly naked curve of his to support his weight. He was a splendidly beautiful man but he was also a damnably stubborn one. "Don't move," she said. "I need to get my balance." And my breath. Only to herself could she admit that it wasn't exertion that put a catch in her ability to breathe.

Raleigh felt one of her arms slide across his back and curve around his waist. He had absolutely no dignity left, he thought. At his grandmother's insistence, Linden Street had arrived at his home three days after he returned from the Nevada mine. For the better part of nine months she had been resolutely stripping away his armor of arrogance and masculine pride.

Early in their acquaintance, when the shattering pain had receded to the point where he could acknowledge other aches, Raleigh had mistaken Linden 's lack of embarrassment regarding her intimate care of him for experience of another sort. He had propositioned her rather crudely. She had set him straight. They had never mentioned it again but it was always there between them.

"Let me lower you back into the tub and ring for Mr. Simmons," Linden said.

Raleigh shook his head. He didn't want to wait and his conceit had been compromised again. "Just help me out." He distributed his weight between her and his good leg and managed to drag the injured one out of the tub, step lightly, and follow it with the other.

Linden 's fingers clutched the sleeve of his robe, which was hanging on the open door of his armoire, and yanked. It slipped off the hook and she thrust it into his hand. "Put this on."

Standing on one leg, Raleigh shrugged into his hunter green dressing gown and belted the sash. Linden waited patiently, prepared for the weight of him when he slipped

"Why aren't you married?" he asked suddenly.

Linden 's hands didn't stop moving. It surprised her because she was certain her heart skipped. She didn't look at him, but concentrated on her work instead. "I think that's a private matter," she said.

"Humor me."

There were times when that's all Linden felt she did. "I don't think—"

"Has anyone ever asked you?"

She raised her head and looked at him frankly, her darkening violet eyes level with his. "Yes," she said simply.

"And you said no."

"I said yes." She bent her head again and returned to massaging his leg. She rubbed the length of his calf, toning the muscles between her palms. "My father became ill a few months before the wedding. I spent a lot of time with him, caring for him. I couldn't make plans ... I was tired .. .and worried." She shook her head faintly and her long lashes lowered another fraction. "After a while I just wasn't interested in marriage any longer. I suppose the same thing happened to Edward." She sighed. "Our engagement ended by mutual agreement."

"How long ago?"

"Seven years."

She would have been about twenty-two, he thought. And twenty-six when her father died. Alexander Street had been Millicent's personal physician until he had taken ill. The wasting disease that had sapped the strength from his limbs, and eventually taken his life, was also the source of Linden 's knowledge and her particular strength. Since her father's death she had found herself employable as a companion and caretaker for patients with similar crippling illnesses or disabilities.

"Do you have regrets about Edward?"

She shook her head.

"About not marrying?" This time there was an infinitesimal pause before she made her denial. Raleigh was thoughtful. "My grandmother's got it in her head that I should have heirs to the Montgomery fortunes."

"Doesn't she realize how hard you've been trying?"

Raleigh blinked, not quite believing what he'd heard. "How's that again?"

"My room is only down the hall," she said. "And it overlooks the street. I know about the women who come up here at night . . . the ones your friend Chapman procures for you." She added more liniment to her hands and worked it into Raleigh 's leg. "You may have already begotten an heir or two to the Montgomery dynasty. Perhaps your grandmother will be satisfied with that."

"I see we're speaking very plainly this evening," he said dryly. "Since that's the case, let me say that my grandmother has already stated quite firmly that she's not accepting bastards. Fortunately for me, I haven't any to present to her."

Linden wondered why this particular news should give her any relief, yet she acknowledged it was precisely what she felt. Suspecting what Raleigh might make of that, she was careful to school her features and keep her head lowered. She wiped her hands on one of the towels, then wrapped his leg in it. "Is this why she wanted to see you today?" she asked. "To tell you?"

"Yes."

It explained his ill-conceived attempt to walk to the financial district. Linden understood that Raleigh Montgomery didn't brook interference in his life, even from his beloved grandmother.

"I've been thinking about what she wants," he said when Linden didn't respond in any way.

"Oh." She wondered who it would be. The parade of women to his room weren't all whores. There had been one young woman in particular, a cousin, she thought, of Chapman's, who had a fair smile and bright laughter. She had worn a daffodil yellow satin ballgown and carried a parasol the color of sunshine. She would be a good match for Raleigh Montgomery—perhaps a trifle silly, even a little vain—but she would look lovely on his arm and they would turn heads when they went to the theater. And they would have beautiful children.

He could have any woman he wanted—and frequently did. Linden had always known that and she had held herself from him when she had been given the chance to be one of them.

He was an improbably handsome man, with his clear gray eyes and glossy black hair. He had strong, aristocratic features that gave his face clean, linear definition. His nose had an arrogant line to it, his mouth was firm. The cheeks were lean, the bones high and masculine. His body was lean and hard, muscular even now because of the exercising he did each day with her. He had been used to riding and hunting and walking and the inactivity brought on by his accident chafed at him.

Linden was thoroughly familiar with the breadth of his shoulders, the tapering waist, the faint hollows on either side of his buttocks. She had massaged his thighs and arms, and when he had been nearly insensible with the pain of his injury, she had laid his head in her lap and kneaded his neck and scalp. His body became sleek and shiny with the oils she worked into his skin; the muscles held their tone and suppleness.

During the time he had been completely bedridden— his injured leg splinted, raised by pulleys, and stretched by weights—it was Linden who had bathed him. It hadn't been her idea, but his. A test of sorts to measure her mettle or run her off. Under the watchful, even cynical, eye of Raleigh Montgomery, she hadn't flinched; over time she became more familiar with the planes and an-

gles of his body than any of the women who graced his bed, perhaps even more familiar than Raleigh was himself. He had two small dimples at the base of his spine and a tiny, star-shaped scar on the right side of his flat abdomen where he'd fallen on some jagged rocks as a youth.

She was almost as familiar with his moods as she was with his body, and contrary to her stoic expression, she was indifferent to neither. He despised his helplessness and she was an easy target for his anger. Linden was confronted by cold civility, bitter invective, or silence, lie baited her with his cool gray eyes, watching her so closely that when she retired to her room she still felt the force of his stare. On better days he coaxed her with smiles and sweet talk. Depending on what he wanted on a particular day, he might also offer her money.

He was a man used to having what he wanted, not because he was spoiled, but because he was used to being able to get it for himself. If he wanted to go out to dinner, it didn't matter if the weather was inclement. If he wanted to work at his office, he didn't care that the previous evening's pain had caused him to toss and turn all night and that it would be visited upon him again. That Linden was able to respond to the spirit, if not the letter, of his demands did not appease him greatly. She had food from some of San Francisco 's finest restaurants delivered to his room. She arranged for his assistants to bring work to him from the office and every day young Kwei Po ran to the financial district and dutifully recorded the figures of the stock exchange. When he complained the room was too hot, she opened the French doors to let in the breeze. When it was too cold she laid a fire. And, on one memorable occasion, she had cheerfully done both, confounding him again with her unflappable demeanor.

She did not feel quite so tranquil now, sensing his eyes

on her. His gaze was watchful and curious, as if she weren't a person at all but something to study under a magnifying glass.

Raleigh ran his fingers through his dark hair, lifting the damp ends away from the collar of his dressing gown. He rubbed the back of his neck with the towel, then returned it to Linden . He noticed she balled it up and her fingers worked convulsively around it, flexing and relaxing. Her violet eyes were calm, her features perfectly placid. "Grandmother would like to see me engaged by Christmas," he said. "It would be a nice present for her."

"Perhaps you should consider a bonnet or a shawl," she said. "Those are also nice presents."

Her dry, quiet humor was unexpected. Raleigh wanted to put a finger under her chin, raise her face, and see if she was smiling. "Is that what you'd like for Christmas?"

"Me?" Her voice rose slightly with the single word. Discomfort claimed the pit of her stomach. "No," she said finally, quietly. "I'm afraid I can't be satisfied with less than a partridge in a pear tree."

"Just the partridge?" he asked, wondering at her sudden seriousness.

Linden forced a carelessness she didn't feel. "In a pear tree," she reminded him, then shrugged. "It could mean everything or nothing." She saw him frown but she didn't explain herself.

Linden folded the towel with painstaking precision and slipped off the edge of the bed, almost jumping free when she felt Raleigh 's fingers slide around her wrist. His fingers were lean and strong and the grip was just tight enough to force a struggle if she tried to remove it. She had touched him hundreds, thousands of times. She had supported, cradled, and held him. She had run her fingers through his hair, along his spine, and down the backs of his thighs. She had done all of that to him, yet Raleigh Montgomery had rarely attempted to touch her.

Linden looked down at the hand closed over her skin. His clasp was like a ring of fire. She was trembling. "Yes, Mr. Montgomery ?"

Raleigh 's fingers opened and he watched Linden take her hand back, massaging the fragile bones of her wrist as if they'd been bruised. He knew his grip hadn't been hard or hurtful. His eyes narrowed slightly and his look became more considering. "I was thinking you might agree to be my fiancee, Miss Street ."

She looked at him now, her composure shattered. Her violet eyes had widened and her lips were slightly parted. Her complexion was pale as salt and the last breath she had drawn was trapped at the back of her throat. "Whatever made you think I might agree to that?"

"It would make my grandmother happy."

Linden felt her heart being squeezed. "I like your grandmother very much," she said quietly. "She never forgot my father. When he could no longer attend to his patients, she supported us both so I could care for him. Mrs. Montgomery is largely responsible for me being able to work after the death of my father, but I don't know that I could—"

Raleigh cut her off. "She's dying," he told her. "There wouldn't have to be a marriage. Only an engagement."

Linden clutched the towel in her hands. She dropped back slowly onto the edge of the bed. "Millicent is dying?" Her vision blurred a little and she blinked back tears before they spiked her dark lashes. It wasn't possible, she thought. Not Millicent. Even at eighty she was the most energetic, lively, spirited woman Linden knew. She turned to Raleigh suddenly. "What does she need? Is there something I can—" She stopped because he was simply regarding her expressionlessly, his eyes frank. He had already told her what his grandmother needed and what she could do to help. "It wouldn't be real?"

"The engagement would be very real," he said. "There would simply be no marriage."

He meant they would end it after his grandmother was dead. It was calculating and a little ghoulish. Gooseflesh rose on her arms and she rubbed them absently. "I don't know," she said uneasily. "Isn't there someone else you can ask?"

Raleigh had been prepared for that question. "There's no one else my grandmother would accept as easily as you. Except for Chapman, you've been my steadiest companion. For the last nine months you've practically lived in my pockets—when I had pockets." He ignored her sharp look and went on calmly, making his points seem reasonable and logical. "My grandmother's known you for years and she admires your steadiness and loyalty. She's remarked on your sensibility and reserve. She thinks you have character, intelligence, and good sense and I'm inclined to agree with her."

"Thank you," she said softly. "I think."

"But Millicent has her peculiar notions, and at her age she's entitled to them. I wouldn't put it past her to suppose it would be highly romantic if we had fallen in love during my convalescence."

"Which we both know is absurd," she said quickly.

"Absurd," he agreed. "But you can see how she might take it into her head."

Linden nodded slowly. "So she wouldn't find the announcement odd."

His smile was faint. "Not odd at all. Especially if we were to warm her further to the idea. Say, if you were to join me for Thanksgiving dinner in her home tomorrow?"

So it was that Linden found herself sharing the large dining room table with Millicent and Raleigh Montgomery and nine others from Millicent's cadre of friends. Cornucopia overflowing with hothouse flowers decorated the table in three distinct and fragrant arrangements. The meal was served in waves by amiable, competent maids wearing severely cut black dresses with wide, white pilgrim collars, starched aprons, and stiff bonnets. Young Kwei Po, on loan to his grandmother from Raleigh , was incongruously dressed in Indian garb, much to Raleigh 's horror. Throughout the meal, each time one of the maids clunked around the table in her heavy buckled shoes while serving courses of clam soup and fore-quarter lamb with mint sauce, Linden caught Raleigh regarding his grandmother with an expression that could most kindly be described as consternation.

"It was a great success," Millicent announced later when only Raleigh and Linden remained. She had had coffee brought up to the second floor sitting room and shared it with Linden while Raleigh sipped cognac. Sitting back on the chaise longue, she adjusted the shawl over her legs. The evening was cool and the warmth from the fire did not reach her as she might have liked. "Though I wish I had realized about the shoes. All that noise. Clunking here. Clopping there. Such a racket."

Raleigh, who had been about to raise the snifter of cognac to his lips, paused and said softly, "I know it made me long for another war cry from Kwei Po. What were you thinking, teaching him that? I'm sure half of Nob Hill thought itself under attack. And the boy's Chinese, Grandmother. I don't think he has a drop of Indian blood in him."

Millicent ignored him and addressed Linden . "He's much too serious, don't you agree?" she asked. "What is the fun of a holiday if one can't celebrate it with a bit of panache? Although it's not quite Raleigh 's style, is it? I'm afraid he wouldn't know a flamboyant gesture if it presented itself as a gift." Out of the corner of her eye she saw her grandson poke at the fire to make it give up a little more heat. She smiled. He was a dutiful boy in his own way, she thought sweetly. He had noticed that she was chilled and had responded. Millicent felt she could count on her grandson. Which made her wonder about Linden Street . "But then you're not precisely bursting with good humor yourself, are you, dear?"

"I enjoyed myself very much this evening," Linden said gravely.

" Stuff!" Millicent said heartily. She could inject enough feeling into that single word to give it all the force and flavor of a sailor's saltiest phrasing. " Raleigh got you here under false pretenses, I'll wager." She saw Linden start, her violet eyes flickering. "He didn't tell you about my other guests, did he?"

Linden recovered herself. For a moment she had thought Millicent was going to say something else, some comment about her health. "No, he didn't mention it."

"Well, that was very bad of him, but I suppose he didn't think you'd come and I very much wanted you to be here. You keep entirely too much to yourself."

Raleigh interjected smoothly, "I think Linden will be getting out more, Grandmother. Now that I'm able to get out myself more often, I've pressed her into accompanying me occasionally."

"Why, that's wonderful," Millicent said. "She deserves a little entertainment for having to put up with you all these months." She saw that Linden was going to politely object to this pronouncement and she raised her hand. "Oh, don't bother, dear. He's a wretch. I told you that when I asked you to take him on as a patient. I confess myself pleased that you're still on speaking terms. I fully expected that someday you'd march into my home and demand that we put him down like a horse with a broken leg."

Raleigh almost choked on his liquor. "Well, thank you for that, Grandmother. Lucky for me, Linden is more patient with an injured animal than you are." He left his place by the fire and sat beside Linden on the small sofa. He noticed her flinch slightly at his nearness and it surprised him. She had never done so before and he could only imagine that it was their changing circumstances, or rather the pretense of them, that had brought it about. It would never do. "Perhaps you'd like Linden to visit you?" he asked.

"Oh, I'd like that," Linden said immediately. "It would give me the greatest pleas—"

"Stuff!" Millicent said again. "You don't need to spend time with me. Where's the pleasure in that?" She caught the brief exchange between Raleigh and Linden and Millicent nodded sagely. "Oh, I see. Raleigh 's told you I'm not feeling quite the thing, I suppose. I might have known you'd offer your services. I wondered why you were looking at me so closely all through dinner. Did you think I might keel over?" She waved one hand dismissively. "I have Dr. Harvey to order me around. He's not as good as your father was, of course, but he's competent. Raleigh pays for his time so I couldn't get rid of him even if he weren't." She sipped her coffee, then set the cup firmly in the saucer and put it aside. "Enough about the state of my health, or ill health, as the case may be. How is my grandson? He doesn't tell me anything important. I can see for myself that he was walking better yesterday than he is today."

Linden told Millicent that Raleigh had taken too much on himself. She finished her coffee while the man who employed her, the man who commanded hundreds of others in mining and railroading and financial matters, listened solemnly while he was lectured by his grandmother,

"It would be less painful if she'd just box my ears and be done with it," he said later.

"You enjoyed it," Linden disagreed softly. "I watched you."

They were riding home in the open carriage. Perched beside the driver, Kwei Po was still wearing his headband and feather, a souvenir from Millicent for services rendered. Linden sat beside Raleigh on the thickly padded leather seat. The night was clear and chilled and as they rode along, icy fingers of air worked under their woolen capes and the heavy rug that covered their legs. Linden 's soft calfskin gloves were inadequate and when she rubbed her hands together to keep warm, Raleigh took them between his. Linden 's bones were narrow and fine and he held her hands as carefully as he would have held china.

In spite of his gentleness he felt her shrink from his touch. "You're going to have to get used to that," he said. Moonshine limned her delicate profile in cool blue and silver light. My grandmother will think it strange if my fiancee is repelled by my touch."

"I'm not repelled," she said hastily. "I'm . . ."

"Yes?"

Confused, she wanted to say. And a little frightened. Not of him, but of herself. "I'm not used to it," she finished lamely. "I shall try harder. I wouldn't want to upset your grandmother."

She was not looking at him so she didn't see Raleigh 's rather grim smile. "No," he said. "We wouldn't want that."

Over the next three weeks Linden did try harder. It was difficult, pretending in public to be falling in love,

i hen pretending in private that the public face was a lie. She wasn't prepared for the attention she received when she was escorted by Raleigh Montgomery. He took her to the theater, the opera, and let her lose five hundred dollars, then win it back, in one of the city's most opulent and exclusive gaming halls. She attended church with Millicent and Raleigh on three successive Sundays and had dinner with them afterward. Still later she and Raleigh were driven to Point Lobos, where their carriage could make a circuitous route in the moonlight.

She complained that it was too much, that she didn't need to be seen everywhere with him. After all, weren't they simply doing this to convince his grandmother? He countered that his grandmother would expect him to court his prospective fiancee and she wouldn't be taken in by a shabby, hastily announced engagement. It was groundwork that needed to be laid.

Linden told herself she gave in because Raleigh Montgomery was convincing and insistent. She didn't like to think that she might be swayed by the novelty of wearing so many beautiful gowns or gaining the front entrance to social circles that would have been closed to her before. It also didn't bear scrutinizing that she welcomed the pleasure of his company.

It was at the Chamberlains' annual Christmas ball that she was forced to reevaluate all her motives—and his. She shouldn't have been so naive, she realized later. What was it she had overheard? Oh, yes. "She's no green girl Or did you think that's the bloom of youth on her cheeks? " That was one of the kinder things she had been privy to when two young women—still in their first (lowering—hadn't realized they weren't alone in the guest bedchamber.

Linden didn't know if she resented them for speaking their minds or for speaking them unwittingly in front of her. "That's a harlot's red rouge putting color in her face."

Linden had been incapable of moving from her stool in the adjoining dressing room. She had gone there to repair a hem that had been torn by an enthusiastic but incautious partner. "She lives with him, you know. They used to say she only took care of him, but I think this proves she's been Raleigh s mistress all along." This was followed by a spurt of bright laughter and Linden pricked her finger with the needle as she recognized the voice. It was Chapman's cousin, she of the daffodil gown and sunshine parasol. "Everyone s been forced to accept her. I mean, who wants to risk alienating Raleigh Montgomery or his grandmother? Mrs. Chamberlain was scandalized, my mother said, but her hands were tied. She had to include Linden with her invitation to Raleigh . Her poor husband is invested heavily in Montgomery holdings." Closing her eyes, Linden raised her injured finger to her lips and sucked gently.

When they were gone she repaired her gown and returned downstairs. Long swags of pine decorated with lace and strings of pink glass beads bordered the ballroom. Swan ice sculptures floated in a fountain of raspberry punch. The spray bobbled the frozen lily pads and full blooming ice flowers on the current. Pots of pink and cream poinsettias with light-green-veined leaves were set out in tiers three deep along the stage where the string orchestra played.

Prior to the repair that took her out of the ballroom, Linden would have said the gathering glittered. On her return she wondered why she had ever thought it. Raleigh stood when Linden reappeared on the threshold of the room and bent his head solicitously as she approached.

"You're all of a piece again?" he asked politely.

She was shattered but they were thinking of different things. "The dress is repaired," she told him. She forced a carelessness into her voice that did not quite suit her.

Raleigh smiled but it did not reach his eyes. He regarded her closely. Her violet gaze had drifted away from him and was following the lilting progress of a pair of dancers on the floor. He recognized his friend Chapman and the cousin Chapman had ill-advisedly thought might be interesting to him. The last vestige of Raleigh 's smile laded and a small crease appeared between his dark brows. Although Linden had never lacked for partners, Raleigh himself had not asked her to dance, nor anyone else. He had no desire to look clumsy in front of her, but now, watching Chapman and his cousin, he thought he saw a wretched melancholy about Linden that made him screw his courage to the sticking place.

"Would you take this dance with me?" he asked somewhat diffidently.

She turned to him, surprised. It occurred to her to remind him of his leg. He had been standing a great deal throughout the evening and was leaning heavily on the ebony handle now. Yet Linden heard something in his voice that kept her silent on that count. Raleigh Montgomery was not so certain of himself or her answer this time and it was important to him. The expression in his beautiful fray eyes was unreadable now as he guarded himself against disappointment. "I'd like to dance with you," she said and raised her hand for him to take.

Raleigh knew she offered her hand as much for support as for escort. It was done with such graceful ease that no one but the two of them were aware of it. He gave his cane to a friend to hold and led Linden onto the floor.

"You're looking very thoughtful," he said, as they were immediately drawn into a series of sweeping turns in time to the music. "Are you concerned I'll embarrass you?"

Her head jerked up. "No!"

Her denial was so immediate and heartfelt that he had to believe her. "I'm sorry," he said. "I'm being selfish, thinking only of me."

"You're a very good dancer," she said dutifully.

Raleigh smiled faintly. "Liar."

"No, it's true." He was graceful and so much at his ease on the floor that his limp was hardly noticeable. Had he had a better partner, she thought unhappily, there would be no sign at all. She was the one who was stiff and unyielding. She could feel a hundred pairs of eyes on her and now she knew the thoughts behind them. She's his mistress, you know. What can we do? She's on Raleigh 's arm. We have to accept her. Linden lowered her eyes and stared at Raleigh 's cunningly tied neck cloth. She blinked once against her tears.

" Linden ?"

She could not look at him. "Please," she said softly. "I'd like to go."

Raleigh did not hesitate. "Of course." In the course of the dance he drew her to the entrance of the ballroom and motioned to his friend to bring the cane. He called upon his friendship to press Rand into making their thanks and farewells to the Chamberlains. " Linden 's not feeling well," he explained to a concerned but agreeable Rand .

In the carriage Raleigh tried to draw her out but she was having none of it. Except for an apology, she was silent. He escorted her to the door to her suite and laid his hand on the leaded glass knob, effectively trapping her for a moment. Simmons had helped her out of her coat belowstairs and her gown shimmered with iridescent shades of emerald and deep marine blue. "Have I done something to offend, Linden ?" he asked quietly.

She drew in a shallow breath and shook her head.

"Look at me," he commanded, his solemn tone brooking no argument. Her features were very still but her eyes glittered with unshed tears. "Has it all become too much?" he asked. They were a week shy of Christmas Day and the announcement of their engagement. He braced himself to ask the next question. "Do you want to back out?"

She had known it was coming and had been preparing herself. Here was her chance to give up the pretense— and the pleasure of his company. She could remove her name from the gossip mill and retire quietly into another position where no one would know what had come before. It would have to happen eventually. The engagement was never meant to be permanent. Now, given the opportunity to cut it short—really, to call it off before it had truly begun— Linden discovered she couldn't do it. "No," she said with sober calm and infinite gravity. "No, I don't want to back out."

Raleigh hesitated, his eyes searching hers. Except for a brief flash of defiance, the violet gaze she returned was maddeningly without any hint of expression. "Very well," he said after a moment. "Good night, Linden ."

For three weeks Raleigh had been cautious about touching her, recognizing the need to ease into anything but the most casual contact. Now he bent his head slowly, giving her time to move her head to one side. He would have settled for kissing Linden on the cheek. He would have been disappointed, but he would have accepted it. As he drew closer he realized he was not going to be disappointed. Linden was offering her mouth.

The kiss was gentle and brief. His lips were cool and dry. Her mouth parted slightly beneath his and for just an instant the pressure increased. He straightened, watching her. Her long lashes fluttered, then opened. A diamond teardrop sparkled and pink color lightly stained her cheeks. He raised one hand and brushed the clean line of her jaw with his knuckles. A strand of her dark hair had come loose from its anchoring pins and he lifted it, feeling the silky texture between his fingertips, then tucked it behind her ear.

"Good night," he said again. He made a slight bow and left.

Linden slipped inside her room. She could still taste him on her mouth and she raised her fingers to her lips as if she could preserve the imprint. They had never discussed kissing. She supposed that he felt the time had come to broach it. Millicent would expect some modest display of affection between them at the time of their announcement. She wondered if the kiss had met his expectations or if she had disappointed him. The contact had been so brief. She would have liked him to linger. Unbidden, the silly, trilling voices from the party came back to her. She s been living with him since the accident. Of course she s his mistress.

No, Linden thought, but she wanted to be.

She pressed her fingers to her lips harder, not to hold the passing shape of his kiss, but to force back a sob. She swallowed hard and began to undress. One of the maids came to help but Linden dismissed her. After all, she was an employee and used to fending for herself. Since she had begun to be Raleigh 's public companion there had been an inevitable chasm developing between her and the house staff. Even Kwei Po, with whom she had enjoyed an easy camaraderie, had begun to treat her with more deference than her position strictly warranted. He could only have taken his cue from the others. Linden felt more isolated and alone than she had at any time since her father's death.

Self-pity did not sit well on her shoulders and Linden shrugged it off as she slipped into her plain gray day dress. She pinned an apron to her bodice and tied the ribbons at her back. Her elegantly arranged hair was inharmonious with her serviceable gown. Linden removed the beaded adornments and unwound the coil. She brushed it out hard, then braided it, trapping the blue-black luster in a thick plait.

She knocked softly on Raleigh 's door. On the chance that he was already sleeping, she let herself in quietly when there was no response. He was not already in bed. His clothes were tossed haphazardly over the back of the wing chair. From the adjoining room she heard a small splash and knew that she was right to suspect his leg was bothering him more than he had wanted to let on. In concession to his pain, he had asked for a hot bath to be drawn. The bed had already been turned down and now Linden laid out two towels from the stack Mrs. Adams made certain was available. She removed the brown bottle of liniment from her apron pocket and set it on the bedside table.

Raleigh was leaning back in the tub, a folded towel behind his head. His eyes were closed. There was the faint suggestion of pain at the corners of his mouth. When he moved, water lapped gently at the crisp, dark hair on his chest. Steam made his skin glisten. Linden entered silently and knelt beside him.

The sweet scent of pine teased his senses. At first he thought it was a residual fragrance from the Chamberlains' ballroom—then he felt a ripple in the water around him and realized it was Linden 's hair that had captured nature's heady perfume. He opened his eyes. She was reaching for a washcloth and he put one hand over hers, stopping her. "What are you doing here?"

She frowned. The question surprised her. She was still his caretaker, responsible for his recovery. Weeks of playacting for Millicent hadn't changed that. She had continued to help him exercise his leg in the predawn hours before he went to his Union Square offices, and she had carefully gauged his ability to accept the slew of invitations that had accompanied the festive frenzy of Christmas. Most evenings she massaged his leg after he had prepared for bed. Tonight did not strike her as different from any of the nights that had come before it. She did not understand his question.

"I've come to see to your leg," she said. She attempted to reach for it under the water but his hand still held her back.

"No," he said. "Not tonight." He didn't let her go until he saw acceptance in her expression. "Get my robe," he said.

"But you haven't soaked long enough."

The bath that Simmons had drawn for him was totally ineffective. Raleigh knew he needed ice water for this ache. "Get my robe," he repeated tersely.

Linden blinked at his tone but she passed it to him. He stared at her a moment longer and she realized he was waiting for her to go. She got to her feet and took her leave. She didn't go far. Linden was waiting for him when he entered his bedroom a few minutes later. He seemed surprised that she was still there. She held up the bottle of liniment.

Short of picking her up and carrying her out of the room, Raleigh didn't know how to dislodge her. She had that patient, militant look in her eyes, the one that said she held the high ground and could wait forever. Raleigh acknowledged with painful honesty that if he were going to carry Linden anywhere it would be to his bed. The irony of it was that she was waiting for him there, sitting on the edge, composed yet somehow expectant.

Raleigh was aware of her eyes on his hip and injured leg and, unassisted by his cane, he strove to make crossing the room appear as easy as possible. He sat down on the bed. The pillows were already plumped, the towels were in place. He stretched out and rested the crown of his dark head against the headboard. Even though he was anticipating her touch, he was not completely prepared for the way it raised prickles of heat on every part of his body. He thought he would come out of his skin.

"You're doing better than I would have thought," she said, rubbing the oil into his flesh. "It won't be much longer before you won't be needing my services."

"You said you didn't want to back out."

Still bent to her task, her thumbs running along the length of his shin. Linden shook her head. "I wasn't thinking about the engagement," she said. "Of course I'll stay as long as it's necessary." She felt an ache at the back of her throat as she thought of it ending only when Millicent was gone. It was all too bittersweet. "I was referring to your leg. I'll have to make plans for myself. Another engagement of sorts, I suppose, with another patient who needs me."

He didn't like the sound of that. It was something he hadn't thought of when he walked across the room. Had he suspected the direction of her thoughts he would have emphasized the limp. "That won't be necessary," he said.

She smiled at the way he dismissed her concerns as if they were of no account. She couldn't be angry with him. He simply didn't understand. "I have to have work," she explained. Beneath her fingers she could feel tension in the line of his leg. She kneaded with more deliberation and pushed forward on his toes to stretch the muscles. "I have to earn my living and somewhere in the city is someone who needs me as much as you did."

"I'll hire you," he said. His tone was harsh and meant to convey that the subject was closed.

Frowning, her fingers slowing, Linden looked at him. The severe set of his mouth wasn't the result of pain, but anger. "I don't think I understand," she said with deliberate calm. "What is it that I would do for you?"

"Play the role of my fiancee," he said. "In just a week it will be a fact. I'd pay you what you're earning now and you would be given a larger allowance for clothes

and jewelry. If you decided it wasn't seemly to remain here I'd set you up in a house in some other part of town—overlooking the bay, if you think you'd like that." He had added the last because he thought it would cheer her. He was aware that the longer he talked, the more disappointed, even bitterly resigned, her expression had become. " Linden ? What is it? What are you thinking?"

Shrugging, Linden applied herself to her task again. She cried out when her wrists were taken and she was hauled up the bed toward him. She tried to push away but she was grappled and kept at the level of his hips, her legs not quite able to touch the floor and find purchase. Her position, with her legs folded partially under her and her gown tangled around them, was uncomfortably off-balance and she had to rely on Raleigh to support her upright. "Please," she said breathlessly. "You're hurting me."

He knew he wasn't. She had said it automatically because she was helpless and frightened and thought it would make him release her. She was appealing to his better instincts, not understanding the baser ones guiding him now. "What were you thinking?" he asked again. "What did you hear me say?"

She didn't recognize the voice that replied yet she knew it was her own. Desperation had made it a touch shrill, hurt had made it halting. "You were talking about making it fact instead of fiction," she said. "Confirming what they all think anyway. Chapman. His cousin. The Chamberlains. Probably even Millicent. You haven't thought this through very well. Your grandmother may not approve of you marrying your mistress. Indeed, the news of this engagement may send her straight to her grave."

The lines of Raleigh 's face were strained with tension. He gave her wrists a little shake, hard enough this time to press a bruise into the soft underside of her skin and cause her slender body to shudder in reaction. "Who says?" he demanded. "What are you talking about?"

Linden caught her breath. His grip was like a vise now. "I think they all do," she said frankly. "I overheard Chapman's cousin talking to one of her friends."

Raleigh remembered seeing Emily leave the ballroom shortly after Linden had gone to make repairs to her gown. "That twit," he said, partly in astonishment that Linden would pay any attention to her, partly in disgust that the issue had been raised at all. "I'll have Chapman speak to her. She has no business—"

"No." Linden cut him off and gave her head a quick, violent shake. Her heavy, glossy braid fell forward over her shoulder. "It will only make matters worse."

Raleigh saw that it could. Emily was a spoiled brat and a woman scorned. "All right," he said heavily. He loosened his grip on her wrists but when she would have withdrawn her hands he resisted and massaged her skin instead. He could already make out the faint bluish marks that had pressed into her tender and delicate flesh. "But I'll still speak to Chapman. He knows the truth. There are ways to quiet Emily without taking a direct approach."

She would have to be satisfied with that, Linden thought. Raleigh wasn't asking permission. "You can't blame her for thinking it," Linden said. "It's a natural assumption, one that I should have foreseen myself. After all, you did proposition me once."

"And you politely declined." Actually she had delivered her refusal in very plain, cutting language, practically unmanning him with her sharp and biting lecture.

Linden 's cheeks pinkened. "I should have boxed your ears," she said.

He glanced at her, surprised at the faint, playful smile on her lips. He grinned in return. "It would have hurt less," he agreed. "Still, Emily has no right to say what

she's thinking. If everyone did that it would mean the collapse of civilization as we know it." He thought he could tease another smile out of her but the moment had passed. She was staring at the play of his fingers over her wrists. He was no longer massaging her skin. He was stroking it. He had no idea how it had come to pass but recognizing it now did not put a stop to it. His thumb lightly brushed back and forth across the delicate blue-veined webbing on the underside of each wrist.

" Linden ?" He willed her to look at him. She didn't, but this time she spoke.

"I think I was so upset because in my heart of hearts it's what I'd been thinking. Emily only gave voice to thoughts I had buried. You spoke them again when you made your offer about the wages and the gowns and the house. There's part of me that wants to accept." She drew in her lower lip for a moment, worrying it, then she went on hurriedly, softly. "If it's what everyone believes and if it's what I want, then where is the harm?" She raised her face and felt his cool, fathomless gray eyes on her. "That is," she added, "if I'm still interesting to you."

"Still?" Always, was more descriptive of the way he felt.

For the first time in her life, Linden 's patience deserted her. Afraid it would be something sensible, or worse, a denial of his desire, she could not wait to hear what he had to say. She leaned toward him a fraction and the lack of balance in her posture did the rest. She fell into him and was caught in his arms.

Raleigh let her momentum carry her and rolled Linden onto her back, following her with his body. His good leg trapped both of hers but she wasn't struggling to be free of the embrace. "Are you certain?" he asked, searching her face. The centers of her violet eyes widened and darkened and it was all the answer he needed. Taking her face in his hands, Raleigh lowered his head and slanted his mouth across hers.

Her breath was warm. Her lips hinted at the flavor of ripe raspberries. He tasted the corners of her mouth, ran his tongue along the line of her lips, savoring her sweet and innocent offering. His fingers drifted across her cheek, then her neck. He worked loose the plait of her hair and threaded his fingers into the ebony thickness of it. The texture of it was like gossamer, hardly substantial against his skin.

His kiss deepened and he drew out her breath and shared it as if it were so precious it was meant to be rationed. He felt her return the pressure and engage the teasing forays of his tongue as he ran it along the edge of her teeth. He felt her arms slip around his back. Her touch was tentative at first, light and uncertain. Her hands alighted on his shoulders with the skittishness of a hummingbird. They rested there, withdrew, then rested again. Finally her fingers pressed into his flesh, his satin dressing gown a smooth barrier to their naked touch.

She knew almost every inch of him intimately, but this was different. There was another purpose to her touch now. She was no longer trying to relieve pain, but induce pleasure. Linden didn't know anything about it.

Her shyness intrigued Raleigh and moved him. It reminded him of the rare flower he had in his hands. "It's all right," he said softly. "Let me teach you."

Linden hardly knew what he meant but she gathered her courage and risked discovery. Raleigh sat up swiftly, turned back the bedside lamp so the flame was merely a flicker, and lay down beside her again. "You wouldn't make me turn it all the way back, would you?" he asked. The word yes hovered on her lips but her head was shaking no. He smiled and touched the tip of his nose to hers, then he kissed her again, long and deeply. "That's what I thought," he whispered against her lips.

He removed the pins from her apron and turned just enough to release the ribbons. He drew up the hem of her gown, removed her shoes and stockings, then left the hem where it was. His palm curved along her calf from her slim ankle to the sensitive backs of her knees. His thumb passed over the small bones of her feet and she retracted her leg as the sensation tickled her. He laughed and captured her ankle and pulled her toward him. The hem of her gown rose higher. Her petticoat was as crisp and white as the sheet beneath her. His hands slid under the small of her back and he raised her to a sitting position. Her body was lifted languorously so that it was bent in an exquisitely graceful curve. Her back was arched, her breasts thrust forward, the smooth line of her neck exposed. He laid his lips on the hollow of her throat and suckled gently. Her heartbeat vibrated against his mouth and he could hear her breathing catch for a moment.

His fingers twisted the cloth-covered buttons that held her bodice closed. He kissed her skin each time a new area was revealed. She sat very still for him, patient as he knew she could be, while he slipped her gown over her head, then removed her shift and camisole. She was not wearing a corset but she had had one on earlier and the faint pink markings of the stays were still visible on her tender skin. He touched one with his index finger just below the curve of her breast.

She was lovely with her slender body and full breasts. Taking his fill, his gray eyes darkened to pewter. Her rosy nipples peaked under his gaze, just as if he had touched them. Her hands came forward shyly, not to cover herself, but to loosen the belt of his dressing gown. He shrugged out of it and let it fall over the edge of the bed to join her discarded clothes.

Raleigh waited. The shadows in the dimly lighted room were insufficient to hide the evidence of his desire. For the first time his need was fully revealed to her and he didn't know what to expect. He needn't have worried. The color in her cheeks wasn't embarrassment and the expression in her eyes wasn't fear. Her flush was full arousal and that frank look was flattering.

He laid her back, his body flush to hers. He covered her with the heat and weight of his body. Her arms stole around his back and her hands trailed the length of his spine and his mouth closed over her breast. He drew on her skin lightly, laving the tip with the rough, damp edge of his tongue. He could almost feel the spark of heat just below the surface of her skin. Her breast swelled and her abdomen retracted as his hand slipped between them.

Linden 's fingers threaded into his hair. Her nails lightly scraped the back of his neck and followed the curve of his ear. He was stroking her skin from breast to hip, tracing the turn of her waist and the roundness of her thighs. She felt as if she was learning the shape and texture of her own flesh for the first time. It was natural for her body to turn into the one that was more familiar to her. His.

She was defined by the hard planes and angles of his form, her curves fitted flesh to his flesh. Her legs were trim and light against the taut length of his. Even his injured leg, which he favored ever so slightly, was stronger than hers. Her skin was smooth and pale next to his but when his face was close to hers their hair mingled and it was impossible to tell one from the other. It seemed to Linden that she was meant to cradle this man's body. Months of supporting and lifting and shouldering had finally brought her to this. And love. For Linden it had been about love for a very long time.

He came into her as carefully as he could. She was not so innocent that she didn't expect the pain. He paused and held himself still while he waited for her body to accommodate his entry. Her skin was glowing, her eyes were bright. He kissed her for a long time and when he felt her entire body respond to the foreplay of his mouth and tongue he taught her to move with him.

Not understanding what could be waiting for her, Linden would have settled for his pleasure. Raleigh was wiser than that. He made her give up the secrets of her body, finding the most sensitive places and filling them with the sweetest caresses.

It was not so different the second time he turned to her that night, except that she was hungrier, more demanding, perhaps even a bit selfish to experience the reawakening of pleasure. The kisses were harder now, more urgent. Their bodies were resilient, not fragile, and they could touch each other freely. She trembled. There was less control rather than more. Her skin was warm, her mouth hot. She relearned his body with her lips and made him shudder. Anticipation made her hold her breath and the thrust of his body drove it out again.

"Say my name," he said softly. "You never say my name."

She was a silent lover, afraid the wrong words would tumble past her lips. But this she could give him. She turned her head so her mouth was near his ear. " Raleigh ," she whispered. She stroked the back of his head. " Raleigh ." She heard her own name then and it had never sounded sweeter or more reverent. She felt adored.

Excitement carried the night and it was almost dawn when they fell asleep in each other's arms.

Raleigh was the first to wake. A glance at the clock warned him he was already late rising and he remembered there was important business to attend to at the office. Still, he stretched leisurely and turned slowly on his side. Linden 's naked shoulder was presented to him in all its smooth wonder. There was important business to attend to in his bed, too, he thought. He bent his head and kissed the curve of her white shoulder. She smiled sleepily but didn't stir. He liked that. Seeing her replete in the aftermath of loving and still in his bed stirred something in him even if she didn't move.

Her dark hair, lustrous against her pale skin, was spread across her back. He gathered it in one hand, made a fist around the black silk, and moved it aside to reveal all of her. His fingers trailed down the length of her spine. The sheet was folded at the rounded edge of her buttocks. Out of the corner of his eye he saw her lashes flutter. He raised his cupped hand and gave her a light slap on the bottom. She started, not because it hurt, but because the hollow sound of it was like a clap of thunder in the quiet room.

"Slug-a-bed," he said. "You can't sleep if I have to get up."

The lamp had long since burned itself out. It didn't matter now because there was plenty of misty, gray morning light coming around the edges of the closed drapes. She had meant to rise before him. He had experience waking up beside someone in his bed; she had none.

As if he could read her mind, Raleigh said, "This is new for me, too. I've always chased the others out." He watched her wrestle with the double-edge sword. She didn't like being reminded of the others, but by the same token she was glad to be different from them.

Linden sat up slowly, drawing the sheet to her breasts and covering her legs modestly. Raleigh woke her more thoroughly with a kiss that lingered in her blood long after he had left the bed. She turned, drew her legs up, rested her shoulder against the headboard, and listened to him moving around in the adjoining room, washing, shaving, dressing. She was still abed when he reentered the room.

She flushed to the roots of her hair when he said, "I was only teasing about you being a slug-a-bed. You can wait there all day if you like. In fact, I think I prefer it."

She was not so sufficiently in his thrall that she couldn't muster the spirit to throw a pillow in his direction. He caught it easily and his smile was wicked as he approached the bed. Linden held up her hands and arms to protect her head and the sheet dropped to the level of her waist. When the pillow did not come crashing over her she risked a glance at Raleigh through splayed fingers. He was staring appreciatively at her breasts. There was nothing the least remote about his gray glance.

"Very nice," he said.

Linden hurriedly raised the sheet so that he was only getting half an eyeful. She managed to sound disapproving and look pleased at the same time.

Raleigh 's smile deepened at the contradiction. He let the pillow fall harmlessly to the bed, bent toward her, and kissed her full on the mouth when she raised her face. He would have liked to have stayed but he had a business to run and she had to return to her room before her position with his staff was thoroughly compromised. That's not what he wanted for her. His plans were decidedly different and they always had been.

He glanced at the clock again and saw he was already late for his first meeting. He sat on the edge of the bed for a moment and took Linden 's hand. His smile was gone now and his expression was earnest. "Listen to me, Linden ," he began. "There's something I need to tell you, something I think will make you happy." Raleigh felt her expectant expression and he drew hope from it. "My grandmother's not dying," he told her. "At least no more than any of us is dying, which is to say her doctor expects her to see out the turn of the century with bells on." He squeezed her hand. "We'll talk about it tonight. Wear that lovely lilac gown you have. I'm taking you to the Cliff House this evening." He kissed her cheek this time, oblivious to the fact that it was cool to the touch and not offered to him. Though Raleigh felt he could walk to work on a cushion of air, he nevertheless picked up his cane. At the doorway he paused once to look at Linden over his shoulder, toss her a smile, and swing the cane jauntily.

His astonishment was quite real that evening when he was informed by a dour and disapproving housekeeper that Linden Street had packed her bags and fled.

"My dear," Millicent said helplessly. "My poor, poor dear. You have to quit crying sometime. You're breaking my heart." She took the sodden handkerchief Linden was clutching in her hand and replaced it with a fresh one. When Millicent's housekeeper entered the bedroom to take the breakfast tray, Millicent waved her away impatiently. Linden 's copious tears were not responding to entreaties or reason. Millicent Montgomery was very much afraid she was going to have to slap the girl.

It did not come to that. Millicent let silence do her work for her and eventually the eerie echo of Linden 's own sobs seemed to help her gain control. By Millicent's estimation it had been just minutes short of an hour since Linden had been shown to her bedroom and she had been tearful for most of that time. Millicent still hadn't been able to divine the details but her faculties were not so dulled by her earlier-than-usual rising or her age that she couldn't make out Raleigh 's fine hand in the mess.

"You shall have to tell me eventually, dear," she said, putting enough starch in her voice to prevent another bout of tears. "But first you must wash your face. There's a girl. Go on with you. The water's fresh in the pitcher and there are cloths under the stand." She watched with some satisfaction as Linden obeyed. "No, no, no. You must pat your face dry, not rub it as if it were a floor. My face would look like a corduroy road by now if I had rubbed it like that." Millicent was quite proud of her skin, which was still amazingly taut over the fine bones of her face. She pointed to the lines fanning out from her eyes. "I earned every one of these creases with good honest emotion and by appreciating the vagaries of life. I'd have more, but I try not to let everything bother me. And staying out of the sun helps, of course."

This last had the desired effect of raising Linden 's watery smile. "Good," Millicent said approvingly. "It's a beginning. Now, come sit by me on the bed and tell me what's happened. There will be no more crying because I can't understand you."

The story came out haltingly at first but Millicent proved to be a good listener and refrained from interrupting at any point during Linden 's discourse. She had plenty to say at the end, however.

"Ring for tea, Linden ," she said briskly. "That won't come amiss. Now that you've stopped weeping, it's safe to fill you up again. And if you haven't had breakfast, ask Mrs. Bristol to bring it here. Poached eggs, I think. They would suit you nicely ... and some toast with a spot of marmalade. You don't want anything too heavy. Your father taught me that." She added the last when Linden looked as if she were preparing to object. It was a sly way of eliciting Linden 's cooperation, but Millicent had not learned how to manage influence without first learning how to manage opportunity. She took advantage of whatever was available to her. In this case, evoking the memory of Linden 's dear, departed father was a perfectly acceptable tactic.

While breakfast was being prepared, Millicent attended to her own toilette. She very purposely dismissed her maid and allowed Linden to act as one. What was more, she gave over the chore as if she were conferring great privilege. By the time Linden had brushed out Millicent's thick, silvery hair and assisted her in dressing, breakfast had arrived and nerves had come a long way toward being calmed.

Millicent recounted the story in her own words while she watched Linden eat. Occasionally, when Linden paused too long between bites, Millicent directed her back to the task with an imperious waggle of her index finger. "As I understand it, my grandson—with whom I may finally have a serious parting of the ways—has compromised your virginity through trickery. Specifically he has made spurious claims about the state of my health, to wit, that I was set to kick the bucket."

"I don't think he mentioned that it would be soon," Linden said in fairness to Raleigh .

"Perhaps not, but he allowed you to assume the time was closer than not." She waved her hand airily. "It's an old trick, dear, and it's the kind of bait that's caught more experienced fish than you."

"You mean he's done this before?"

Millicent cleared her throat. "I mean nothing of the sort," she said with some asperity. "I was speaking in generalities then, not specifics. Letting other people assume what they will is something I taught Raleigh . It can serve one well in business but not so wisely in love."

Linden choked on her toast. "There's been no mention of love" she fairly gasped.

"Of course not. That would have made everything too simple. Now, drink some tea, wash down that toast, and let me finish. You've come here today because Raleigh's admitted that I'm not ready to turn up my toes and you've realized it was all a ruse to get you into his bed. Is that the gist of it?"

Linden nodded, swallowing hard.

"It's no use flushing. Thanks to my grandson, you're not a great green girl any longer."

Linden 's mouth sagged a little at this observation and she stammered something unintelligible which Millicent ignored.

"Very well," Millicent said. "You must stay here. Have you brought your bags? Yes? Good. That showed some foresight on your part. Raleigh will come here this evening when he realizes you're gone, but I don't think you should see him just yet."

"I don't want to see him again—ever."

"Stuff! You love him, don't you?" Millicent was so certain of the truth that a reply one way or the other did not interest her. She went on with her planning. "I'll talk to him myself and let him know that you're quite safe. That will be a concern. Then he'll have to sort this out himself. Frankly, I'm ashamed the boy is so dense."

The boy arrived that evening, and even to his loving grandmother's eyes he looked a decade older than his thirty-three years. She ordered Scotch for him in the library and when it arrived she didn't raise an eyebrow as he helped himself to the tumbler and the crystal decanter. When the maid was gone she looked at him sharply. "Are you going to drink yourself insensible?"

"I may." He lowered himself onto the wide arm of a chair and stretched his injured leg out in front of him. His handsome face was graven with lines at the corners of his mouth and eyes. A muscle worked in his lean cheek and there was a new crease between his dark brows. "You're telling me she's here but that I can't see her. Frankly, Grandmother, I may drink until that seems perfectly sensible."

Millicent sat regally in a slate-blue wing chair. Her mouth was set firmly and her eyes were clear and grave.

She had steeled herself not to feel pity for her grandson although clearly he was suffering. "I believe I said that it wasn't a good idea to see her. She doesn't want to see you."

"Then how am I supposed to explain?" He rolled the tumbler between his palms but what he felt like doing was banging his cane against the floor. "She has to listen to me."

" Linden doesn't have to do anything of the sort, Raleigh. Where has listening to you got her thus far? She accepted your lies and was promptly relieved of her virginity."

"That's too much, Grandmother," Raleigh said firmly. The look he gave her was hard and unyielding. "Even for you."

Chastened, Millicent fell silent.

Raleigh sighed and put his unfinished drink on a nearby table. "I got the idea from you," he told her. "That's not an excuse and I'm not blaming you. If anyone's to be blamed, it's me for thinking one of your schemes had merit." The uneven, self-deprecating smile he flashed in his grandmother's direction took some of the sting from his words. "I thought Linden would do for you what she wouldn't do for me." He saw one of Millicent's silver brows arch skeptically. "I didn't expect her to fall in bed with me, Grandmother. I was hoping she'd fall in love. I want her to be my wife, not my mistress."

Millicent sniffed. "Well, you've gone about the thing rather badly. Telling the girl I was at death's door to gain her cooperation—well, you can see that she feels ill-used." She made no comment that she remembered trying to manipulate Raleigh in the same way. "All that squiring her around the town. What was that in aid of?"

"I wanted to spend time with her," he explained patiently. " Linden wouldn't have had anything to do with me outside of caring for my leg."

Millicent made a thorough, relatively unbiased, assessment of her grandson's features. "What's wrong with you?" she demanded imperiously. "Hasn't the girl got eyes in her head? You're a fine figure of a man and rich to boot."

Her fierce defense raised a small smile. " Linden doesn't trust me," he admitted after a moment. "I'm afraid I behaved rather badly in the beginning."

Millicent held up one hand. "I don't want to know the details."

"I wasn't going to tell you." His grip tightened on the knob of his cane. "Suffice it to say, Grandmother, that I haven't thought about Catherine Hale in quite some time." He pulled himself up and went to Millicent's side. He bent and kissed her on the forehead. "I think we both know that when you sent Linden Street to my home you were hoping she'd heal more than my gimpy leg."

Millicent made a show of blustering then she abandoned it. "Well," she said heartily, "if my work isn't going to go to waste then you have to do something. Words won't work, my boy. Not now. I'm afraid you must attempt a grander gesture. Panache is required in this situation."

Raleigh considered that. Now that he knew Linden was safe he could think more clearly. He wondered what he knew about panache. As Millicent pointed out to Linden at Thanksgiving, he wouldn't know a flamboyant gesture if it presented itself as a gift. How was he supposed to prove to Linden that he loved her? What proof could there—

Millicent recognized the change in her grandson immediately. Lines of tension simply vanished from his face and his gray eyes lightened and took on a distant, thoughtful expression. There was a softening to his mouth and a quirky grin that was so youthful it made

her heart ache. "Where are you going?" she demanded as he headed toward the door. He didn't respond and she didn't press. Apparently he was a man on a mission.

Tears came to Millicent's eyes as she watched him go. Surely that was a spring in his step.

Christmas morning dawned clear and bright . . . and with a racket that had Linden rushing down the hall to Millicent's room. At one point the house actually shook.

Bleary-eyed but amazingly spry, Millicent met Linden at the door. "Is it a quake?" she asked. She fastened the belt of her robe as she looked up and down the hall. One picture along the corridor was askew. Everything else appeared to be intact.

"I don't know what it was," Linden said. Even as she spoke there was the distinctive roll of thunder below-stairs. "What on earth?"

"I think we'd better go down, dear." Linden , she noticed, was dressed better for disaster than she was. The deep green gown and scarlet grosgrain ribbon brought to mind the colors of the holiday. "Lord," Millicent exclaimed, "It's Christmas. Get my slippers, Linden . The gold ones, please. If we have to flee for our lives then I want to look festive."

Linden gaped at her. Millicent was perfectly serious. Rather than argue and possibly risk both their lives, Linden dutifully ran for the slippers. There was more commotion downstairs, the sound of shouting, horribly shrill screams, and even more improbably, high-pitched laughter. So much was going on that for the first time in a week, Raleigh Montgomery was not at the forefront of her thoughts.

Linden led Millicent down the front staircase, holding the older woman's arm on one side while Millicent held the banister on the other. Halfway to their destination they were greeted by Millicent's distressed housekeeper. The woman's thin face was ruddy, the gray threads in her hair were more starkly apparent, and she was actually wringing her hands. Clearly she was within moment of becoming unraveled.

"I didn't know what to say to him," she began hurriedly. "You know how he is when he's got a thing on his mind. Just like you. I told him to put them all in the library but there's simply not enough room. I realized that after the young ladies arrived and everyone here knows there's more to come. I can't think that we can accommodate it all." At the end her voice was barely audible because she hadn't drawn a breath. She drew one now, a deep one, and began again before Millicent or Linden could interject a question or comment. "So I've shooed them all out into the backyard. The house shook, I can tell you, with all that stomping and leaping and twirling around." Somewhere from the vicinity of the kitchen a loud, raucous cackle split the air. The housekeeper threw up her hands. "That's it! That's what I'm trying to tell you. He's gone completely insane, surpassed even the most outrageous thing you've ever staged." She pointed to Linden accusingly. "Pardon me for speaking frankly, but it's because of you. We've all seen you moping about this past week and we've put our own construction on it. And now . . . and now we have this!"

Surprised by the housekeeper's outburst, Linden looked to Millicent for her defense.

There was no rescue. Millicent simply nodded, her temperament serene. "Mrs. Bristol's right, dear. You have moped. And my staff's not foolish. They know Raleigh 's to blame." She turned to Mrs. Bristol. "I assume my grandson is the 'he' to whom you have referred."

"No one else," she said tersely. Another cry from the kitchen captured her attention. "You'll have to come now.

I'm taking a broom to the last of them this very minute." She marched off militantly to get her weapon.

Linden 's violet eyes were apprehensive. Her hand tightened on Millicent's arm. " Raleigh 's here," she whispered.

"It seems that way," Millicent agreed calmly. "Perhaps he's brought you a Christmas present. This is the day for it after all." She gave Linden a little nudge. "Go on, dear. See what he's done to make Mrs. Bristol throw him outside." Linden was already off on a run and Millicent was forced to call after her, "And be gracious, child! He's tried so hard!"

Millicent lowered herself to sit on one of the steps. She'd let them have this moment to themselves, she thought. It was her gift.

Linden came to a complete halt on the lip of the stone portico. Her stop was so sudden, her surprise so swift and complete that her entire body vibrated for a moment like a plucked string. She caught her breath, raising one hand to her heart to contain the slamming beat, and stared open-mouthed at the circus Millicent Montgomery's backyard had become.

Dozens of people were running around the magnificent garden. Their costumes were varied. Some wore silvery white wigs of courtiers and satin breeches, others were looking self-important in regimental uniforms better suited to revolutionary times. The women were either dressed like princesses with wide panniers under their skirts, or common servants with white aprons and little mob caps. A menagerie of animals, mostly birds of one kind or another, were scurrying along the flagstone paths trying to avoid being herded back toward the house. A swan preened grandly in the marble fountain and a fat little colly bird perched on the head of one of the spouting cherubs. It flew off when Kwei Po, dressed in white satin and gold braided livery, attempted to net it. The bird left a bit of its business behind on the cherub's sculpted curls.

"Bad bird!" Kwei Po scolded, swinging his net. "Can't get it, Mr. Raleigh!" But he was off to try again, his sloe eyes bright with the excitement of the chase.

The spectacle of it all had held Linden 's attention so fully that she didn't notice Raleigh until now. He was sitting just below her, on the edge of one of the stone steps, his elbows on his knees, his head in his hands, looking rather disgusted, and more than a little dejected. She went to sit beside him. Without a word she slipped her arm through his. "Thank you," she said softly. There were tears of gratitude in her eyes.

Just then one of the young men leaped across a hedgerow to tackle a honking, bad-tempered goose and collided head over bucket with one of the dairy maids. The crying that ensued was every bit as piercing as the goose's squawking.

Linden 's smile was watery as she laid her head on Raleigh 's shoulder. "It's all quite beautiful," she told him.

"I'm surprised you know what it is," he said, still unhappy with the result of his efforts. With a sweep of his hand he indicated the rowdy, clamoring melange in front of them. Kwei Po had just netted the bird but had plunged into the fountain in the process. "It was supposed to be a more solemn presentation. At least it was supposed to be orchestrated with more panache."

His disappointment actually touched Linden deeply. That he had wanted it to be perfect for her was very special. "It has plenty of panache," she assured him gently. "Have you been planning it long?"

"Since you left me." He turned to her and searched her face. There was a hint of a rueful, abashed smile on his lips. "Grandmother suggested a flamboyant gesture."

He shrugged a bit diffidently, his gray eyes uncertain. "This is what I came up with. I wasn't certain if you'd understand."

Linden 's hand rose to his face and she touched his cheek, memorizing the features that were so infinitely dear to her. "I understand, Raleigh , but I wonder if you do.³³ She looked out in the yard again, her fingers dropping away from his face to lie gently on his knee. "Twelve drummers drumming."

"When they collect their instruments," he said, sighing. The percussion section was currently surrounding two swans and a lady. It was difficult to know who was the target of their attention.

"I count eleven pipers and ten lords." She cast him a sideways glance. "I see you commandeered Kwei Po's services again."

He nodded. "He wanted to wear a feather. It took an amazing amount of explaining. I still don't think he's got the gist of it."

Linden pointed to where Kwei Po was shaking off water and still grappling with his catch. "No, but he's got his bird and plenty of feathers if he wants them." She felt Raleigh squeeze her hand. "And there are nine ladies and I assume those others are milking maids." That would explain the eight goats that were contentedly munching on Millicent's greenery. Raleigh must not have been able to get milk cows and decided on goats instead. She liked his flexibility. "Seven swans," she said. "All of them nearly captured. And six geese." She paused, her eyes darting around, then continued. "Four colly birds. Three French hens. And them." Linden pointed to the two caged turtledoves which Raleigh had placed on the stone balustrade. They were being eyed hungrily by Millicent's golden tabby who had come to the celebration uninvited.

"You've found most everything," she said. "And in so little time. It takes my breath away."

He shrugged, hesitating a moment. Then he said quietly, "There's something else. It could mean everything or nothing." It was a phrase she had used once with him. "I got it in case you didn't care about the flamboyant gesture."

Linden 's smile faltered at the intensity of his searching eyes. In the background the cacophony of singing and chirping and honking faded. "There was only one thing I wanted," she said softly. "All this—"

Raleigh raised one finger to her lips and stopped her. He gestured to Kwei Po. The boy understood the command. He let his hard-won prize fly away and ran around the corner of the mansion. In less than a minute he reappeared, hugging a heavy burlap bundle to his chest.

It was only when he laid it at Linden 's feet that she saw the small sapling rising out from the neck of the sack. It was a pear tree. "Oh, Raleigh ," she said softly. Her blurred vision made Raleigh 's sleight-of-hand appear more adept than it really was. He cupped his hand and seemed to draw out a large egg from the branches of the slender young tree. He placed it carefully in Linden 's open palms.

The egg was warm and Linden held it carefully. "Open it," she heard him say. She looked at him oddly, not certain she'd heard correctly. Past the shimmering tears that shielded her violet eyes she could see he was smiling. "Open it," he said again.

A few tears fell and her vision was restored. She could see now that the egg wasn't real. "It's porcelain," she said.

"Partridge is hard to find, even for me. Go on, open it."

Her fingers found the delicate silver clasp and twisted.

The hinged top of the egg opened easily. On a bed of bright yellow velvet rested five gold rings.

"I didn't know your size," he said, watching her closely. Did she understand? "I think one of them will fit." "

She raised her face and looked at him, comprehension slowly brightening her beautiful eyes. "It was never about the gifts," she whispered, going into his arms. His embrace was solid and secure and he held her as if he never planned to let her go. "It was about you. You mean everything to me." Then her mouth was covered by his and they kissed long and deeply and shared a single thought: My true love.