He noticed everything about her.
The revulsion she had shown while trying to escape young Emery confirmed Ian's theory. Laura hadn't feared her suitor. She must be fond of him or she wouldn't have been so tolerant of his misdeed. Yet she had hated his embrace, even though he was a good-looking and decent young man.
Perhaps her distaste for physical intimacy was a result of some youthful trauma at male hands, or perhaps she was just born that way; some women were. Whatever the reason, obviously she wanted to avoid the earthier side of life.
Laura wouldn't make a wife, and he couldn't make a husband. He gave a twisted smile. Clearly they were made for each other.
Since facing the fact that he was a eunuch, he had seen himself as flawed, inadequate. Yet virility was only a small part of gender. Many men abstained from sexual relations, some for religious reasons, some for practical reasons or lack of opportunity, others from choice.
What was the measure of a man?
Ian had always enjoyed women in all ways. His favorite childhood playmate had been his sister. He had always assumed he would marry, for he wanted children and a wife who was a companion as well as a bedmate.
As soon as his income grew to the point where marriage was practical, he'd started looking. He had wasted no time in proposing when he met the right girl.
Now the life of marriage and children he had envisioned was forever out of his reach. Yet marriage was more than sex. It was companionship and an economic partnership. He was still capable of providing for a wife, of protecting and cherishing her. And love existed in many forms, most of which had nothing to do with physical passion.
By sheer chance, he had found a woman who might welcome a husband who would make no sexual demands, but who could provide support, friendship, and the possibility of love.
His mouth tightened. It would be easy to find out if Laura was willing to consider what he still had to offer.
All he had to do was lay bare his soul.
* * *
The next morning, Laura prepared her hair with special care, donned her most flattering riding costume, and had the cook pack a basket with cakes and a jug of hot tea. She was ready and waiting when Ian arrived for their ride.
He greeted her warmly but seemed preoccupied. There was little conversation as they rode into the rolling hills. Laura didn't mind; it was enough just to be with him.
There seemed a special brightness in the morning air. She tried to memorize it, along with every other aspect of the ride. In the future, she would use her imagination to come back to this place, to this special time. Even lonely old spinsters were allowed to dream.
A half hour's ride brought them to a tiny abandoned shrine. It was a peaceful place, with vines curling over the ancient stones and playful monkeys swooping through the trees that surrounded the flower-strewn clearing. The shrine itself was simply a free-standing wall covered with weathered bas-relief sculptures. The central image was of a jolly, elephant-headed being who improbably rode on a rat.
Laura slid from her horse and tethered it. "I thought this would be a good place to stop for refreshments. I've never seen any people here, but sometimes offerings are left."
Ian dismounted and secured his horse, then nodded toward the has relief. "That's because it's a shrine to Ganesha, the happy god, who removes obstacles from the paths of mortals. Who wouldn't want to invoke prosperity and good fortune?"
Laura regarded the image thoughtfully. The elephant head contained wise, human eyes. Though she had visited the shrine many times, she had known nothing about the resident godling. She reached into her basket for one of the small cakes and laid it in front of Ganesha. "Who indeed?"
Ian gave a faint smile before beginning to prowl around the small clearing. "Have you decided what you will do now?"
"I think I'll go back to England." She perched on a convenient rock. "There's much I love about India, but I'm tired of heat, tired of disease, tired of being surrounded by an alien culture that I'll never fully understand. My income would support me better here, but I want to go home."
"I'm concerned for you, Laura." Ian stopped his restless pacing and turned to her. "I owe your uncle my life. Since he is gone and you have no other family, perhaps I can fulfill my obligation to him by making sure that you are well provided for."
She looked at him in surprise. "You owe me nothing, Ian. You brought me Pyotr's journal and helped me through a very difficult time, so I think the accounts are even." She poured a cup of tea. "I shall manage very well on my own. Besides, it would hardly be proper for you to support me."
"It would be quite proper under certain conditions." He took a deep breath. "Before I say more about that, there's something I must ask you."