Sadly she recognized that even in the throes of passion he would not let himself make a baby casually with a woman who was not his mate. Though it was another mark of his honor, she mourned for the absence of that final intimacy.

She must not complain, for already she had more than she had dared hope for. The goddess had been generous to her petition. She licked his shoulder where her mouth had marked his salty skin. "Thank you, my lord."

He smiled. "It is I who must thank you. What an incredible gift you've given me."

"Why did you call me Mei-Lian?"

"I suppose… because it is your most secret name," he said thoughtfully. "A name suited to the greatest intimacy a man and woman can share."

"As Kyle is your private name?"

"Exactly. In all the world, only my brother and sister still call me that." He kissed the tip of her nose. "And now you."

"Not your father?"

"My mother did-the name Kyle is Scottish and used in her family. But I was Viscount Maxwell since the day I was born, so my father always used my title."

He stroked the length of her torso with such tenderness that she wanted to weep. Though his heart was unavailable, he was the gentlest and most thoughtful of lovers. What a lucky woman his Constancia had been to have known the fullness of his love.

As her breathing steadied, she wondered how many times they might lie together like this. A fortnight, perhaps, while they traveled to Hoshan and then to Macao? Not enough, never enough. Perhaps they could continue to couple on the voyage to Britain? That would take at least four or five months, longer if the winds didn't favor their ship.

No. She must not delude herself. This rapture must end when he was among his own people again. All she had was tonight and a handful of days beyond. She must make the most of them.

He fell asleep slowly, wanting to savor the feel of Troth in his arms. He'd not felt such contentment since before Constancia had fallen ill. Friendship might not be the same as love, but it was obviously a better foundation for intimacy than lust or a commercial transaction, no matter how elegantly the latter was disguised.

When he awoke, he reached for her sleepily and discovered she was gone. It was dawn and objects were dimly visible in the pale light. Since the grate still blocked the exit, Troth had to be near.

Suppressing a yawn, he rose and pulled on his undergarments, then fumbled his way up to the shrine. There he found Troth dancing in front of Kuan Yin. Barefoot and clad as simply as he, she glided across the stone floor with heart-stopping grace, her movements fluid as a willow in the wind. Her hair was still unbound, and it swirled and floated around her with every step. Shadowy in the low light, she had a magical beauty that was not of the earth he knew.

She floated into a slow turn that brought her around to face him, radiance in her expression. He felt a deep pang knowing that that exaltation should have been for another man, one who could love and cherish her as she deserved.

Yet she was a woman grown, in many ways wiser than he, and the night before she'd made it clear she knew exactly what she was doing. Given her strange half-life in Canton, she'd needed to embrace her femaleness to build strength for her new world. It was his good fortune that he'd been her choice for teaching one of life's great lessons.

Seeing him, she sank into a bow. "My lord."

"I'm not your lord, but your friend." He caught her hands and raised her to her feet. "What kind of dance was that? I've never seen anything like it."

She smiled. "Not a dance, but tai chi-exercises for balancing chi energy. Ever since I was a child in Macao, I've done tai chi and wing chun almost every morning in the gardens. Sometimes Chenqua would join me for two-person exercises and sparring."

"Good God. How very energetic before breakfast." No wonder she was in superb physical condition. "Do the exercises really make one feel more in harmony?"

"Oh, yes. If I don't do them for a few days, I begin to feel out of sorts."

"It sounds like something I would benefit by knowing. Can you teach me?"

"You'd really like to?"

"Right now, if you don't mind teaching me."

"Then we'll start with the patterns that make up a simple form. This one is called 'repulse monkey.' " She began to glide backward, her whole body in motion and one arm sweeping up in front of her, palm out. "A monkey confronted by a tiger escapes by putting a paw on the tiger's nose while he retreats. As the monkey moves back, he alternates paws, keeping his enemy at a distance."

Kyle tried to imitate her actions, feeling clumsy. This was nowhere near as easy as she made it look. "Might this have worked yesterday when you faced the tiger?"

"Doubtful, even if I'd had the wit to try. The tiger would have just bitten my hand off before going for my throat," she said cheerfully. "Don't work so hard, my lord. This should be effortless, relaxed. Feel the chi flowing through you like a river of light."

A river of light. He thought of the image, made himself relax, and found that the movements came more easily, though he'd never have her grace.

After she taught him half a dozen different patterns, she led him in a slow version of the complete routine. He followed her across the sanctuary floor under Kuan Yin's benevolent gaze, feeling happy and carefree and completely at peace.

"Well done!" she said, laughing. "Now again. The form must become so much a part of you that you needn't think about what you're doing. Then the chi can flow freely."

"The object is to be not the dancer but the dance?"

"Exactly!" She led him through the form again, faster, and again, as he echoed her movements. Gradually he stopped thinking about his body and let his mind flow, fully in the moment as his gaze followed Troth. She was so lovely, unlike any other woman in the world, an enchanting blend of mind, body, and spirit.

How often was one happy and fully aware of it at the time? He was happy now…

The pattern changed to magpie landing on a branch. He promptly got confused, moved right when he should have gone left, and collided with Troth. "Sorry!"

Giggling, she untangled herself, as carefree as the girl she hadn't been allowed to be. "Mistakes happen. You're actually quite good for a stiff Englishman."

"Some of the evasive movements used in European boxing are similar, though that pales compared to your wing chun. What are the two-person exercises like?"

"The simplest is 'sticking hands.' We place the backs of our hands together and move them between us, testing. When one person strikes, the other must block the blow."

"I don't want to do any striking, but the exercise sounds interesting." He pressed the backs of his hands against hers. Her hands were narrow, but the fingers were long and capable. She glowed with strength and harmony. "Good God, I think I feel some of that chi coming from you. Is that possible?"

"Yes, one must sense the opponent's energy to know what he'll do before he does it. Try to break free of my hands, and I'll try to keep you blocked."

Having seen her fight, he thought it was entirely possible that she knew what her opponents would do before they did. No matter how he moved his arms, she stayed with him as if glued.

"This is rather like a fighting waltz." He added footwork to the sticking hands, and they began moving across the wide chamber like dancers. It didn't matter whether he pressed forward, slid sideways, or fell back-she stayed with him, her smile teasing and her feet swift as a Scottish dancer's. He moved faster and faster until they were both panting, yet they stayed joined like a man and his shadow.

As his blood raced through his veins, he remembered the intimate dance they'd shared the night before. Desire grew until he could think of nothing else. But how to break free of her sticking hands and do something about it?