Devon’s hand tightened on her thigh.

She glanced at him quickly, and found him staring at her with a concern that turned her insides to molten honey.

“Finally Theo came into the room,” she continued, “very much the worse for drink. His clothes were dirty, and he smelled sour, and he didn’t even wash, just removed his clothes and climbed into bed, and started —” Kathleen stopped, reaching for her long braid and fidgeting with the end of it. There was no way to explain the ghastly surprise of being groped and overwhelmed, with no chance to become accustomed to the feel of a man’s naked body. Theo hadn’t kissed her… not that she had wanted him to… he hadn’t even seemed to be aware of her as a person.

“I tried to hold still at first,” she said. “That was what Lady Berwick said I was supposed to do. But he was so heavy and rough, and he was cross because I didn’t know what to do. I started to protest, and he tried to quiet me. He put his hand over my mouth – that was when I lost control. I couldn’t help it. I fought and kicked him, and suddenly he pulled away, doubling over. I told him that he smelled like a dung mixen, and I didn’t want him to touch me.”

Pausing, she glanced at him apprehensively, expecting disapproval or mockery. But his expression was inscrutable.

“I ran from the room,” she continued, “and spent the rest of the night on the divan in Helen’s room. She was very kind and didn’t ask questions, and the next morning she helped me to mend the torn lace on my nightgown before the maids could see it. Theo was furious with me the next day, but then he admitted that he shouldn’t have had so much to drink. He asked me to begin again. And I…” She swallowed hard, flooded with shame as she confessed, “I refused his apology. I said I would never share a bed with him, that night or any other night.”

“Good,” Devon said, in a different tone than she had ever heard him use before. He had glanced away from her, as if he didn’t want her to see what was in his eyes, but his profile was hard.

“No, it was terrible of me. When I went to Lady Berwick and asked what I should do, she said that a wife must tolerate her husband’s advances even when he’s in his cups, and it’s never pleasant, but that’s the nature of the marriage bargain. A wife exchanges her autonomy in return for her husband’s protection.”

“Shouldn’t the husband protect her from himself, if necessary?”

Kathleen frowned at the soft question. “I don’t know.”

Devon was silent, waiting for her to continue.

“During the next two days,” she said, “all the wedding guests departed. I couldn’t make myself go to Theo’s bed. He was hurt and angry, and he demanded his rights. But he was still drinking a great deal, and I said I would have nothing to do with him until he was sober. We argued terribly. He said that he would never have married me, had he known that I was frigid. On the third morning, he went out to ride Asad, and… you know the rest.”

Devon’s hand slipped beneath the hem of her nightgown, lightly stroking her bare thigh. He studied her, his gaze warm and interested. “Do you want to know what I would have done,” he asked eventually, “had I made the same mistake as Theo?” At her cautious nod, he continued, “I would have begged you for forgiveness, on my knees, and sworn never to let it happen again. I would have understood that you were angry and frightened, with good reason. I would have waited for as long as you needed, until I had earned back your trust… and then I would have taken you to bed and made love to you for days. As for you being frigid… I think we’ve disproved that conclusively.”

Kathleen blushed. “Before I leave… I know that a man has needs. Is there something I should do for you?”

A rueful smile tugged at his lips. “I appreciate your offer. But at the moment, it hurts to take a deep breath. Being pleasured by you would finish me off for good.” He squeezed her thigh. “The next time.”

“But there can’t be a next time,” she said bleakly. “Everything must go back to the way it was.”

His brows lifted fractionally. “Do you think that’s possible?”

“Yes, why not?”

“Certain appetites, once awakened, are difficult to ignore.”

“It doesn’t matter; I’m a widow. I can’t do this again.”

Devon caught one of her ankles and tugged her toward him despite the pain it must have caused him. “Stop it,” she whispered sharply, trying to pull down the hem of her nightgown as it rode higher on her hips. “You’ll hurt yourself —”

“Look at me.”

He had taken her shoulders in his hands. Reluctantly Kathleen brought herself to look into his eyes.

“I know that you regret Theo’s death,” Devon said quietly. “I know that you married him with the best of intentions, and you’ve tried to mourn him sincerely. But Kathleen, love… You’re no more his widow than you ever were his wife.”

The words were like a slap in the face. Shocked and offended, she scrambled from the bed and snatched up her shawl. “I should never have confided in you,” she exclaimed.

“I’m only pointing out that – at least in private – you’re not bound by the same obligations as a true widow.”

“I am a true widow!”

Devon looked sardonic. “You barely knew Theo.”

“I loved him,” she insisted.

“Oh? What did you love most about him?”