"While Dornleigh has been endured, not loved. Where would you make changes?"

She looked back at the house, which loomed across the horizon. "I'd put in climbing vines to soften all those hard edges. It will take time for them to grow, but eventually they would make the house more welcoming."

"Ivy. What a simple solution." He studied the gray stone structure. "What else?"

"Sharp edges and angles are disruptive. In particular, the driveway runs straight from the entry gate to Dornleigh's front entrance. That is a 'poison arrow,' and it strikes to the heart of the house." She gave him a slanting glance, wondering if he would balk at her advice. "Change the course of the drive so it curves gently in front of the house."

He thought about it. "It would be hard to move the lower part of the drive because it runs between the rows of chestnuts, but the upper part can be curved without much trouble, and I think it will look better. Would that be good enough?"

She nodded, once more impressed at his flexibility. "Those changes would help the exterior greatly. Indoors, much can be done with the arrangement of furniture and changes in colors and draperies. Almost anything would be an improvement."

"Can I follow you around and ask questions?"

She almost smiled. He was definitely recovering some of his interest in life. "As you wish. Just remember that I don't have all the answers." If nothing else, when she was gone Kyle would be left with a happier house.

Leading her under a trellised arch of climbing roses, the vines winter-barren, he asked, "What about this little Greek temple? It's called a folly, and was a favorite retreat for Dom and me."

She nodded approvingly as she stepped into the gra.s.sy clearing. "Very nice as it is. One can feel the good chi."

He was beginning to understand the correlation of good chi with a pleasant, appealing environment. What a treasure Troth was. Too much had happened to ever recover the closeness they'd shared on the journey to Hoshan; he could feel the barriers she'd put up. But at least they were now civil with each other. Friendly, even.

As they walked toward the circular temple, a tiny creature raced out and ran across Troth's feet. Her face lit up and she knelt, waggling her fingers. "A kitten! Will you come to me, little one?"

It was a fat-tailed little beast, mostly gray with a white bib, paws, and whiskers. When it charged Troth playfully, she scooped it into her hands. "What a darling! Do you know where this kitten is from?"

"The stables. I've seen her playing there with her brothers and sisters. She's the friendliest of her litter. Adventurous, too, to come this far."

The kitten scrambled up Troth's sleeve and came to rest on her shoulder, small white whiskers quivering with curiosity. Troth scratched between the pointed ears. "We had a dog when I lived in Macao. I'm not sure what happened to him when I left and the household was closed down, but I've always feared that he ended up in a cooking pot."

Kyle shuddered. He knew the Chinese ate dog meat, and logically it wasn't that different from eating rabbits or pigeons, but he was too English not to find the thought abhorrent. "Perhaps your dog ended up guarding another house."

"I hope so. Watchdogs were treated well because they were useful. I wanted a pet at Chenqua's, but it was impossible to keep anything other than a cricket or a small bird, which was not what I wanted."

Kyle swallowed as he watched the unconscious sensuality in the way she rubbed her cheek against the soft fur. "You can have this kitten. She's old enough to leave her mother, and I'm sure the stable has cats to spare."

Her face briefly glowed with the bright pleasure he remembered from the journey to Hoshan. "Oh, Kyle, can I?"

"I suspect that Malloy, the head groom, will thank you for taking a kitten off his hands." He'd gladly shower Troth with diamonds, but if a small, living gift could produce such a smile, she could have every kitten in the kingdom.

"Do you love that sofa?" Troth asked.

Kyle contemplated the item in question, a relic of the so-called Egyptian style of several decades earlier. The sofa had been in the morning room as long as he could remember, and he'd accepted it as an unalterable fact of life. "I do not love that sofa. In fact, I dislike it excessively. The crocodile feet have a certain peculiar charm, but it's horribly uncomfortable, and that's a really vile shade of green."

"Then out it goes." Troth gestured to a pair of footmen, who dutifully lifted the sofa and lumbered out of the room with it.

Over the past fortnight, she had worked her way through the main rooms of the house, following several basic feng shui principles: a room should contain nothing broken, no clutter, and no object that didn't please the residents.

In the two centuries since Dornleigh had been built, it had acquired a great deal of clutter. Troth cut a steely-eyed swath through clumps of old furniture, bad paintings, horribly worn rugs, and other objects that had acc.u.mulated over the decades. Kyle followed in her wake, pa.s.sing judgment on things she wanted to exile. If he was attached to a particular item, she would allow it to stay, but he found that when she questioned something, it was probably expendable.

Troth's treatment of the estate office had sealed his belief in feng shui. The small room contained all of the agricultural texts and account books, but Kyle had always hated the place. He spent time there only when estate management work couldn't be avoided.

After a gimlet survey, Troth had the desk moved so that whoever used it no longer had his back turned to the door. As soon as Kyle sat behind the desk in its new position, he realized how he'd disliked the feeling that someone could stealthily enter behind him when he was working.

Troth made a number of lesser changes, including the removal of a couple of spindly chairs and an unused table, and hanging a landscape painting he'd always liked. Kyle no longer had to force himself to do estate work.

Most of the ground floor had similarly benefited from her changes, and a new driveway was being laid out. It would take longer to implement her other suggestions, such as the ivy and new paint and wallpaper and draperies in several rooms, but he already felt more comfortable at Dornleigh than he ever had in the past.

The feng shui process made him think differently about the house he'd grown up in. He'd always been very aware that he was merely one in a long line of Renbournes. Nominally the house and estate would be his someday, but he was only a guardian whose job was to care for his heritage and leave it in good shape for his heir. The knowledge had always made him chafe at the restrictions that came with his inheritance.

Now Troth's changes made him recognize how much he could reshape his environment. Though his patrimony was still a sacred charge, the weight of Dornleigh lessened in his mind. As furniture and art and curiosities he'd sent back from his travels became part of the house's new look, he began to enjoy his home. Amazing.

Troth herself was a mixed blessing. He craved her company, and they spent a good part of each day together, starting with chi exercises in the garden or a ride across the estate, then her feng shui work. In most ways she was an easy and stimulating companion, interested in everything and full of fascinating information from her own background.

But there was a painful lack of anything personal between them. Though Troth was always amiable, she revealed none of her private thoughts.

Worse, she frequently mentioned the time remaining before the end of their handfast. The constant reminder was a sword of Damocles poised over his head.

"Smith, place that against the wall. What do you think, my lord?"

Called back to the present, Kyle studied the circular gilt-framed mirror that a footman was holding in place. "Hang away. Interesting how the mirror brightens the area and makes it seem larger. More alive. Where did you find this? I don't recall ever seeing it before."

"In the attics. There is enough furniture there to redecorate the house twice over." She regarded him thoughtfully. "It's time to do your bedroom."

He blinked, startled. "Is that necessary?"

"Yes." Without further discussion, she swept from the morning room and up the stairs to his bedroom.

By the time he caught up with her, she was standing in the middle of his room, scanning the area with narrowed eyes.

"Since this is your private area, it needs careful adjustment to keep your energy in harmony," she said briskly. "With that huge globe in your travel sector, of course you were always panting to run off. Worse, the bed is in the coffin position and must be changed immediately. No wonder you have not yet recovered fully."

"Coffin position?" He regarded the canopied bed on the opposite wall, its ma.s.sive carved footboard jutting toward the door.

"Corpses are laid out with their feet facing the door before a funeral. Good for the dead, very bad for the living." She consulted the compa.s.s she had commandeered for feng shui use. "For your best rest, the bed needs to be moved to that wall."

"The room has always been arranged this way."

Her brows arched. "And you always wanted to leave, didn't you? Your instincts were correct."

He thought of the ghastly prison nightmares that still haunted him. If sleeping differently might lessen them, it was worth trying. "Very well, shift away."

"You'll sleep better, feel better."

Silhouetted against the window, Troth was an entrancing sight in her European gowns. She wore her skirts with grace and enticing sensuality, reveling in her freedom to be a woman. He had a swift, disorienting vision of scooping her onto the bed and making love to her.

His strength was definitely coming back.

While the furniture was being repositioned, Troth left to collect several decorative items Kyle's bedroom needed. When she returned, the footmen had finished their work and Kyle was settled in a wing chair with Troth's kitten, now named Pearl Blossom, in his lap. She guessed he'd picked Pearl up to prevent her from being crushed in the confusion, but the kitten, little traitor, was perfectly happy to sit and purr for him.

On a table in the southwest corner of the room, Troth set a cut-gla.s.s vase filled with flowers from the gla.s.shouse. She'd done the arrangement herself, and given standing orders to the maid to make sure the flowers were always fresh. Dying flowers were bad feng shui. "This is an auspicious place for cut gla.s.s."

Kyle's gaze lingered on the globe's new position. "I think I shall like your alterations."

"You will." Troth produced a pair of ceramic Mandarin ducks she'd found packed away in the attic. It was her private joke-or perhaps gift-to improve the feng shui in the section of Kyle's bedroom that ruled romance and relationships. Mandarin ducks were a symbol of romance and fidelity. Always two-not one, not three, but two.

She'd silently balanced relationship sectors all over the house without explaining what she was doing. Kyle should be married within a year. Perhaps even Wrexham would find himself a comely widow when he returned from London and spent a few months in the house. Or perhaps not. She and Kyle agreed that the earl's personal apartments were not to be altered without his consent.

She placed the ducks beside the sparkling vase. "These Mandarin ducks were made in China. Very auspicious."

"I like having a piece of China in here."

She turned the ducks so they faced each other. "Twenty-eight days left."

His faint smile vanished. "Where will you go when you leave here, Troth? What will you do? What would you like to do?" Her hands stilled on the brightly glazed ornaments. "Perhaps I shall stay in Scotland. Find a little cottage and learn to raise sheep."

"A lonely life."

"At least I should be able to afford living like that. Though perhaps not. I have the money left from what you gave me before we left Canton, plus a sum from Gavin Elliott as heir to your shares in Elliott House. Properly speaking it all belongs to you and should be returned. I've thought about seeking a clerk's job in a trading house in Edinburgh or London."

"You are not going to be driven penniless into the night," he said with exasperation. "I've always intended to settle an income on you-enough so you can be comfortable the rest of your life."

Her mouth twisted. "Wrexham suggested two thousand pounds a year, but that would be a great waste of money. No need to buy me off when I'll leave for nothing."

"d.a.m.nation, Troth! You're p.r.i.c.kly as a hedgehog." He set Pearl Blossom on the floor and rose from his chair. "Stop throwing my father's wrongheaded notions at me. There is no question of 'buying you off.' You saved my life. Since I put a high value on that, why shouldn't I give you an annuity as a token of my grat.i.tude?"

Grat.i.tude. Another form of obligation. Simmering with anger, she said, "A hundred pounds a year will keep me well enough. You mustn't waste your patrimony on a former mistress. Better to keep the money for your pure-blooded sons and daughters."

He stalked to the table and glared at her over the bouquet. " Let me repeat: the question of 'pure-blooded' children will not arise, since I have no intention of ever remarrying. I'm no d.a.m.ned good at it."

She'd never seen him this angry before, not with her. Why was she goading him, implying that she was being ill-used by him and his family? His father was a gruff old bigot, but Kyle had always been unflinchingly honest with her. It wasn't his fault that he couldn't love her.

She had a swift memory of their night in Feng-tang, when he'd forced her to leave him to save her from the fury of the mob. If she had saved his life, he'd also saved hers. She had no right to anger. It was time to put it aside, before it corroded her soul. "You may not plan on remarrying, but life is surprising. Don't close the door to possibilities."

Pearl Blossom chose that moment to make a mighty leap onto the table. As the kitten enthusiastically jumped toward the flower arrangement, Troth scooped her off the tabletop. "You'd best keep your door closed, my lord, or dangerous females may enter and a.s.sault your person and possessions."

Cat on her shoulder, she pivoted around the bed and headed toward the door, wondering what woman would ultimately share that bed with him.

Not her. Never her.

Chapter 36.

d.a.m.ned if moving the bed didn't help. Kyle's nightmares subsided from regular horrors that woke him shaking in the night to occasional bad dreams. A vast improvement. His energy was also noticeably improved.

Unfortunately, none of that helped his relationship with Troth, who treated him with exquisitely polite coolness. A good thing she was keeping him at a distance, since his increasing strength was accompanied by a painful awareness of her.

This year England was cursed with an early, pleasant spring. All too soon it would be time for them to head north to Scotland-and when that happened, he knew in his bones that Troth wouldn't return with him.

But at least she was leaving him the chi exercises. The morning sessions left him calm and relaxed, ready to face what the day had to offer. He had several sets of loose Chinese-style garments made for himself, with two more sets for Troth so she wouldn't have to wear the same outfit every day.

Each morning she left the house silent as a cat, apparently indifferent to whether or not he joined her. He made a game of trying to intercept her when she left, or locate her in the gardens when he didn't, since she varied her exercise locations depending on weather and mood. This morning she was already heading out when he glanced from his window, so he'd have to search.

He'd become good at guessing, and wasn't surprised to find her in a small grove of fruit trees at the far end of the garden. With the trees flowering on a perfect spring morning, the location was irresistible, each puff of breeze sending petals drifting gently to the gra.s.s.

He paused at the edge of the grove, heart tightening as she moved gracefully through the shafts of sunshine that fluted between the branches. There was no one else like her, not in China or Europe or the Americas. This morning her hair was unbound, the dark ma.s.s swirling enticingly around her shoulders as she danced through the chi forms and blossom-scented air.

She turned and saw him, inviting him to join her with the warmest smile he'd seen in weeks. He fell easily into the tai chi patterns, visualizing energy flowing into him from the earth. The peace that unfurled within him was a balm. Though soon he'd be exercising alone, in hidden ways Troth would always be with him.

After leading him through three routines, Troth picked up a fallen branch and snapped the shorter branches off. "Now that you're stronger, we can try some sparring. Have you ever seen pole fighting? "

"Not wing chun style, but I've seen quarterstaffs in England and Indian stick fighting." He prepared a branch for himself. "These will break easily."

"Bamboo would be better, but no matter-we're not out to do damage." No sooner had Kyle prepared his stick than she slammed hers to the ground, using the bounce to send a blow upward at him. He blocked it barely in time, sweeping her stick aside.

They fell into a swift, playful bout of strike and counterstrike, complicated by the fact that their sticks weren't smooth. Kyle didn't like the idea of hitting Troth, but she had fewer inhibitions and landed several stinging blows. But even she wasn't fighting seriously-she could have done far more damage if she wanted to.

Becoming bolder as he recognized how adept she was at blocking him, he began to fight more aggressively. One swift rush sent her skittering up into the lower branches of a tree, setting off a shower of blossoms. Laughing, she said, "Well done! Did you learn to fight with a quarterstaff when you were a boy?"

He shook his head. "No, it was fencing with the best master in London. Not the same as stick fighting, but related."

With a theatrical cry, she leaped from the tree, stick swinging. He whacked back, and was rewarded with a sharp crack as both branches shattered.

Ruefully Troth regarded the piece left in her hands. "Thus endeth the stick-fighting session."

He tossed his broken branch aside, not wanting the sparring to end when both of them were enjoying it so much. "Maybe we can do the sticking hands exercise?"

"Very well." She raised her arms and he pressed his against them.

Slowly she began making circles in the air as he attempted to maintain the contact. Was that her energy he felt flowing into him, subtly flavored with essence of Troth? Or was he just under the spell of her brown eyes and supple, perfectly fit form? Chi wasn't the only kind of energy that was flowing between them. The attraction that had been building for weeks was in full spate this morning.

Smiling mischievously, she increased the pace and began to add footwork to the exercise, falling back or sidestepping deftly. Several times she almost eluded him, but he always managed to stay with her.

"You've become quite good," she said a little breathlessly. "Perhaps I should try to throw you. The ground is soft enough here so I won't do much harm."

"Confident, aren't we?" he said with a grin. "Go ahead, do your worst."

She advanced, shifting her weight before suddenly sliding her leg behind his and knocking him over. As she'd said, the turf was soft.

He rolled to his feet and connected with her hands again. "A few more years of practice and I may be able to do that to you."

Some of the enjoyment in her eyes dimmed. "You have only days to learn, my lord. Twenty-one, to be exact."

Why the h.e.l.l did she keep reminding him? With a stab of irritation he shoved hard against her right hand. As she effortlessly countered, he swept his leg under her, dropping her to the ground.