Her brother's despairing words made Juliet feel closer to him than at any time since they had met in Bokhara, for in their sorrow they were truly kin. She laid her hand on top of his where it rested on the cool stone. "Give it time, Ian," she said softly. "You've been free for only a week. And after all you've been through, it won't be surprising if the emotional damage takes longer to heal than the physical."
She had wanted to comfort him, but to her horror, her words undermined her own frail self-control. As grief surged through her, she bent her head in a vain attempt to hide her tears.
Distracted from his own misery, Ian said with concern, "What's wrong, Juliet? Something to do with Ross?"
"He's leaving for England tomorrow. I don't suppose we'll ever see each other again." She wiped her eyes with the sleeve of her silk caftan, then said helplessly, "Oh, Ian, I've made such a mess of things. A dozen years ago I left Ross in a fit of temporary insanity, then compounded my mistakes until they were unforgivable. Now it's too late."
"Ross won't take you back?" Ian said, surprised. "I've always thought he was one of the most understanding men I've ever known. He certainly seems to love you still."
She shook her head. "He wants me to go with him, but I can't. He doesn't know what really happened, and I can't bear to tell him." Her voice broke. "I'm hurting him terribly, but telling him the truth would hurt him even more." For a moment, her husband's words repeated themselves in her mind: I can't think of a single damned thing you could reveal that would make me feel worse that I feel right now.
The problem was, Juliet knew better than that.
"What happened?" Ian asked gently. "Is it something that you could tell a brother, if not a husband?"
Juliet considered pouring out the whole sordid tale, but her stomach curdled at the thought. "No," she whispered. "I can't tell anyone. I just can't."
"Try," Ian said crisply. "If you have a secret that affects Ross, it's selfish to keep it to yourself. Let him make up his own mind." His voice softened. "Happiness is a fragile commodity, easily lost and not easily regained. Don't throw it away because you did something stupid a dozen years ago."
His arm went around her shoulders. "When you wrote and told me you were getting married so young, I thought you were insane," he said reminiscently. "Then I came for the wedding and met Ross and decided he was insane for wanting to marry a hellcat like my little sister."
Hurt, Juliet tried to pull away, but her brother's arm tightened around her. "Show the head of your family some respect, vixen," he ordered, a trace of humor in his voice. "The fact is, you two are uniquely suited to each other. It was true when you married and it's even more true now. Don't let something so precious be destroyed without trying your damnedest to save it."
No longer able to control herself, Juliet began to cry, deep, painful sobs that racked her entire body. Her brother's other arm came around her, warm and reassuring. In spite of his thinness, he had the tenacious strength of steel wire.
Ian held her until her tears had abated. "When we were children, I thought you were the bravest person in the world," he murmured. "I was pushed to the limits of my courage to keep up with you. Use that bravery now. Don't let fear prevent you from telling Ross the truth. He may well surprise you."
Juliet made a noise somewhere between a laugh and a hiccup. "You thought I was brave? When I followed you on your escapades, I was usually terrified but didn't dare admit it for fear you'd be disgusted and never let me go with you again."
"Really? Then it's a miracle we didn't get killed while trying to prove our fearlessness to each other." He brushed a tear from her cheek with the back of his knuckles. "Go and be brave, Juliet. Cowardice costs more and hurts worse."
She closed her eyes and laid her head against Ian's shoulder, hoping that some of his tempered strength would flow into her. Telling Ross what had happened was not what would take the most courage, though God knew that confession would be excruciatingly difficult.
Yet tell him she must. Because the subject was so painful that she was incapable of reason, she had never, until Ian had pointed it out, seen how selfish her secretiveness was. She had not wanted to have Ross hate her, yet hatred was the one thing that might persuade him to end their marriage.
As he had said, she owed him the truth, and in a very real sense the truth would set him free. Not her; she was imprisoned in a cage of her own forging, but for Ross's sake she must find the strength to reveal all that had happened in Malta. Not only would it free him, but it would also reduce his anguish, for he would no longer grieve so much for what might have been.