Silk and Secrets(61)

"Interesting," Ross murmured, his gaze fixed on the pale oval of her face. He wanted to reach out and touch her so much that he feared his hand would move of its own volition, so he deliberately scooped up a handful of coarse sand and let it trickle through his fingers. "Was his lack of interest in his daughter the reason you always ran with your brothers, learning the same things and getting into the same kind of trouble?"

There was a surprised pause. "Very likely, though I've never thought of it in those terms. At the time, it just seemed that boys got to do much more interesting things than girls. Also, it was my brothers or no one when we were living in Tripoli and Teheran. Since there were no European households with girls my age, I had no female playmates."

More than ever, Ross wanted to touch her, but he did not want to risk destroying the fragile mood between them. In the last few minutes she had told him more about the inner life of her childhood than she had revealed during their courtship and brief period of wedded bliss. Perhaps after he digested this new information he would be better able to understand the mystery who was his wife. "No wonder it was so difficult to be sent to an English girls' school after your father died."

"It was horrible," she said vehemently. "I wanted to make friends, but didn't know how. At least, not until Sara took me in hand. It added to my status enormously that she befriended me, for she was the best-respected girl in the school. She taught me how to behave correctly. The English upper class is a positive labyrinth of elaborate rituals, of right and wrong ways to do things. If you make a mistake, you are branded forever as an outsider."

"But you weren't an outsider," he pointed out. "Your parents both came from what are called 'good families.' You had as much right to take your place in society as any other girl in your school."

Juliet gave a rueful chuckle. "Technically that might have been true, but in practice it didn't work out that way. Not only was I ignorant of the rules and the gossip everyone else knew, but I was Scottish, the tallest girl in the whole school, and had horridly unfashionable hair. I didn't even know how to giggle properly! If it hadn't been for Sara, I would have run away."

His heart aching for the unhappy girl she was allowing him to see, he said, "The stories you told me about your school were always amusing. I had no idea you had been so miserable."

"Complaining is never very attractive, so I didn't. Besides, I was sure you wouldn't understand. You grew up in the heart of society, with correct behavior so ingrained that you always knew instinctively what to do, or what the consequences would be if you disobeyed," she said with wry humor. "In time I learned enough of the rules to create the illusion that I belonged, but I still made mistakes."

"I never noticed."

"Ah, but you did," she said gently. "When I was too far out of line, you would mildly tell me where I had gone wrong. That I had been too opinionated, or insufficiently deferential, or that I had broken one of those damned little rules." It was Juliet's turn to scoop up sand, then watch it flow from her taut fingers.

Though her tone had not been accusing, Ross felt as if she had unexpectedly kicked him in the midriff, for she was revealing one of the issues that had separated them. And while he wanted to understand her better, this cut painfully close to the bone. "Damnation," he swore. "I can't even remember criticizing you, yet I hurt you badly by doing so, didn't I?"

Swiftly she turned her head toward him. In the pale moonlight, her eyes were only dark shadows. "And now I've hurt you by mentioning it. I'm sorry, Ross, I shouldn't have said anything. Even then, I knew that the problem was not you, but my own uncertainty and sensitivity. When Sara corrected my behavior, I was grateful, but when you were critical, I felt... undermined. As if I were hopelessly awkward. I was sure you must regret having married me."

"If you were too sensitive, obviously I wasn't sensitive enough. I should have known I was upsetting you." Frustrated, he balled his hand into a fist and ground it into the yielding sand. It was better to know than to remain in ignorance, yet it was difficult to ask the next question, for he feared the answer she might give. "Did you leave because of my criticisms?"

"It was part of the reason, but only a very small part," she replied, choosing her words with care. "I became convinced that I could never be the kind of wife you wanted, and that trying to change was destroying me."

"I didn't want you to change," he said, his voice full of self-directed bitterness. "I liked you very well the way you were. Yet in my youthful foolishness I drove you away."