"You're going too fast!" he protested. "I want to know more."

She gave an enchanting laugh. "Later. The second Way is that of Confucius, the Master. He taught people to respect one another, to cultivate discipline and learning and wisdom, to honor our elders. Chinese society and government are rooted in his teachings."

"And Buddhism?"

"He was the Enlightened One, who taught that in order to escape the cycle of death and rebirth, we must not be attached to the things of the earth. Giving up worldly desires will lead to peace and wisdom."

Kyle studied the pure line of her throat, her beautifully cut profile. "I'm definitely not ready to give up earthly desires, but I want to learn more. I'm going to make you talk until you're hoarse every day of this journey, from Canton to Hoshan to London."

"After so many years of being quiet, invisible Jin Kang, I shall enjoy having an audience," she said tranquilly.

He smiled, thinking that already this was a wonderful journey. Perhaps fate truly had brought them together for a purpose, for she was giving him China. In turn, he would give her Scotland.

If it wouldn't have been out of character for an old grandfather, Kyle would have begun to whistle.

Time to get on your faithful steed again," Troth murmured. "The village on the hill ahead looks large enough to have an inn, and it's almost sunset."

"Are all Chinese towns and villages walled?"

"Most of them are. There have been periods in our history when bandits swarmed over the land like locusts and unprotected villages were destroyed."

Resigned to being carted around like baggage, Kyle mounted the donkey again and their small party climbed the long hill. He noted that the village had been built on a poor, rocky outcropping so fertile land wouldn't be wasted on buildings. He'd never seen land used so intensively.

Just inside the village gates stood an inn, its function as unmistakable in China as in England. Troth took them through a broad arch into a courtyard where three of the four walls had doors leading into guest rooms, while the fourth was a shed. The air was ripe with the odors of animals and frying fat.

Before Troth had even finished tethering the donkey, a middle-aged woman bustled from the manager's quarters with a tea tray. As she and Troth conversed, a cup of steaming tea was gently pressed into Kyle's hand. He raised the cup clumsily to his lips, assuming that even a deaf, blind grandfather should be able to manage tea.

After he'd drunk, Troth took the cup and went inside with the woman while Kyle relaxed on the donkey, cultivating patience. In England he'd been accustomed to servants taking care of life's menial tasks, but that had changed when he left on his travels. His long-term valet had declined to follow his master to foreign places, and the manservant who'd replaced him had left Kyle's service in India.

Unable to find an acceptable substitute, he'd decided to manage for himself while he was in Canton, and found that he rather enjoyed the privacy of not having a manservant constantly underfoot. Now Troth was handling every aspect of their journey, and it felt rather odd to return to idleness.

Still, entertainment presented itself. A very small child toddled up to the donkey. As he regarded Kyle with great solemn eyes, he squatted, his trousers opening along the crotch seam as he relieved himself on the soil of the courtyard. Kyle blinked behind his gauze bandage. While the boy's garment was a very practical design, it would never catch on in London.

Two pretty young women wearing heavy cosmetics pattered up on bound feet. Probably they were prostitutes, since the inn would be a good source of business. One took the child's hand and led him away, but the other stayed and surveyed Kyle.

Apparently reaching a favorable conclusion, she patted Kyle's knee-no, above the knee; her hand was sliding up his thigh. As she rattled off a cheerful question, he froze, embarrassingly aware that his body was responding to her practiced caress. Was this a local custom that his guide had neglected to explain?

Troth stormed from the inn, barking gruff imprecations at the prostitute. Unintimidated, the girl answered back, and a sharp exchange occurred. It ended when the girl smiled wickedly and trailed a provocative hand down Troth's arm. Then she minced away, hips swinging in invitation.

Muttering oaths, Troth led the donkey across the courtyard and helped Kyle down with a viselike grip on his elbow. The bedroom opened directly off the courtyard and was dominated by a platform bed. Kyle glanced around as she returned to the donkey for their baggage. Furnishings were sparse and the small, high windows were covered with paper that admitted only a dim light, but he'd stayed in worse places.

After Troth came in, kicking the door shut behind her, he asked softly, "What was that business in the courtyard all about?"

She dumped the baggage unceremoniously by the wall. "Wasn't it obvious? That hound-begotten slut was looking for customers."

"That I guessed, but the discussion between you seemed rather prolonged."

"I told her you were too old to traffic in trollops and that she insulted your dignity," Troth said acidly. "After which she informed me that you most certainly were not too old, and she'd service you for free because of her great reverence for her elders."

"What a hospitable nation this is!" Kyle said, amused by the absurdity.

Troth gave him a dagger glance. "Should I call that harlot in so you can take advantage of her generosity?"

"Of course not. But I'm… impressed"-he began to laugh-"at how far the Confucian 'honor one's elders' philosophy is carried."

Troth leaped at him and clamped a hand over his mouth. "For heaven's sake!" she hissed. "Do you want to bring everyone in this inn down on us? Anyone who hears will know you're no invalid grandfather."

His laughter vanished as she pressed against him. Through the gauzy bandage, he could barely see the outline of her features, but the warmth of her body was palpable. The lingering arousal caused by his encounter with the prostitute kindled into fierce need, not for any woman, but for this one. He cupped her cheek, smooth as warm silk. It had been a long time since he'd been with a woman, and far, far longer since he'd desired one as much as he desired Troth.

Body took over from brain and he bent to kiss her. The brims of their straw hats collided and hers fell back onto the floor. Dangerous, dangerous folly, but her mouth was so sweet, so welcoming. As the kiss deepened, he slid his hands downward, feeling the supple strength of her back, the warm curve of her hips as he drew her close.

For a blissful moment she melted against him. Then she pulled away, her eyes wide and dazed. "I… I must stable the donkey. And food. I'll get food." She scooped her hat up and bolted from the room, pulling the brim low to hide her face.

Blood pounding, he sank onto the edge of the bed. How could he have been so stupid? The trip had hardly begun, and already he had succumbed to temptation.

It would be child's play to seduce her, but he was a man, not a child, and seduction of an innocent was profoundly dishonorable. Only a scoundrel would take advantage of her inexperience. In Britain she would have a chance to be the woman she longed to be. Intimate involvement with him now would interfere with that irrevocably.

He was skilled in self-control, and certainly that was the right course with Troth. Why did it have to be so damned difficult?