Adam’s gaze met hers. She had hesitated for too long.

  “Well…” she began, her discomfort building.

  Adam reached into his jacket and withdrew the little hardcover commonplace book and put it on the table beside his plate of roast beef. “Enjoy your peace,” he told her.

  There was nothing for it but to leave. Ann moved through the train back to her compartment, her heart beating too fast and too hard, as she came to the unhappy realization that she was completely dependent upon Adam for everything, including companionship. Now he had closed himself off from her, she was utterly alone, and she did not like it.

  What had turned his focus inward in this way? Was it simply Filip’s extreme efforts to reclaim her as his wife? Or had something else occurred to Adam which he was not sharing with her?

  Ann retrieved the valise from Adam’s side of the joined compartments. She settled upon the bed with the wedding gown spread before her, and the reticule of threads and needles by her side.

  While the train rocked and the wheels clicked with a soothing rhythm, Ann removed the remains of dead and dried roses and other flowers from the satin, unpicked the remnants of the train from beneath the bustle, and also unpicked the royal blue satin ribbon rosette stitched to the shoulder of the gown.

  She shook out the gown and laid it flat upon the bed. Bereft of flowers and adornments, it was simply an evening gown.

  Then, for the remainder of the afternoon, Ann watched through the window and let her thoughts wander where they may. Whenever she came back to the trouble surrounding her, she tried to look at it the way Adam did. Trouble was simply trouble; a problem to be solved, not something to become upset about. Emotional outbursts did nothing to address the matter.

  The practice did calm the churning inside her, but it presented Ann with no solutions and did make her aware that with every mile the train travelled, the trouble escalated.

  What would her father and mother think when they learned she had fled to the Orient?

  What would Filip think?

  Ann realized that speculating about the reactions of her friends and family was as useless as brooding about her situation. Until the train arrived in Constantinople, she should forget about it all as thoroughly as possible, for there was nothing to be done here upon the express.

  So she stood and called for a steward to bring her hot water and prepared for dinner.

  Adam tapped upon her door some time later. She had not heard him moving about the compartment next to hers through the closed door. He only had the suit he wore and could not change for dinner. Had he spent the entire afternoon in the dining car?

  Ann adjusted a fold of the evening gown and opened the narrow door. Adam filled the space beyond it. He met her gaze. “Hungry?”

  Ann considered. “No, but eating will pass the time.”

  He silently held out his elbow. Ann eased her way through the narrow door and gripped it. “Did you have a pleasant afternoon?” she asked him as they moved back down the carriage.

  “I had a constructive afternoon,” Adam replied in his deep voice. He opened the connecting doorways into the next carriage, stepped through, then held out his hand to help her over, too. The clank of the train wheels was much louder, even though the connection was covered by a thick leather shield. Chill air seeped through the space, too, and the iron plates ground against each other.

  He shut the door behind her and held out his elbow once more.

  The dining car had been prepared for the evening meal. The tablecloths were pristine white. Candles burned upon each table and the gaslights were turned down. Nearly all the tables were empty.

  Adam frowned.

  “Everyone will be in the lounge car, drinking aperitifs,” Ann explained to him.

  Adam weighted the fact silently. Then he nodded. “That will serve me well.”

  A waiter hurried along the aisle, tying his apron around his waist. “Monsieur, Madam, please, please,” he said in guttural French. “Will this table serve?” He waved to the other table for two.

  “It will do very well,” Adam told him.

  The waiter fussed while Adam seated her and settled upon the other chair. “Champagne,” he told the waiter.

  The waited did not blink or look surprised. “At once, Monsieur.” He hurried away once more.

  Even when the waiter was out of hearing range, Adam still did not speak.

  Ann sighed. “I wish you would tell me what you are thinking. You have retreated to silence once more. As there is no one else I care to speak to aboard this train, it leaves me alone. I cannot withstand being alone and silent, as you can.”

  Adam’s eyes narrowed as he considered her. “Hmmm.” He smoothed out a small fold on the tablecloth with his thumb, studying it. Then he stirred. “How odd. I have just this moment realized I have barely stopped speaking in the last few days, which is not how I usually pass the time when I travel.”

  Ann cleared her throat. “Then why did you stop speaking? You did, right after we came aboard.”

  “Yes.” He stirred again. “As to that—”

  Of course, the waiter chose just that moment to return with the ice bucket. A second waiter carried a tray with the glasses and champagne and the pair of them chatted happily in bad French as they set up the glasses and opened the bottle.

  Adam’s gaze didn’t shift from her face.

  Ann took her glass, glad to have something to do with her hands. She sipped. The champagne was perfectly chilled and delicious.

  Finally, the waiters bowed and left.

  Ann met Adam’s gaze squarely. “You were saying…?” She would make him speak, if he dared retreat once more.

  Adam’s answer came at once, without pause. “I’ve given it a great deal of thought and I keep returning to the same answer, over and over.” He dropped his gaze back to the cloth, then lifted it once more. Pure blue, perfectly steady. “You and I should marry.”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Ann let out a breath which escaped at great speed, as if someone had hit her in the belly. The champagne slopped as she hastily put the glass back upon the table. “You cannot marry me.” her throat was tight.

  “You cannot marry the Duke.” Adam’s voice was low. “Marrying me will ensure you avoid that fate.”

  “You would marry me just to keep Filip away?” The greatest volume she could manage was a whisper. “That is a terrible reason to marry.”

  “It is just as good a reason as yours for accepting his proposal.”

  “Which I clearly reconsidered,” Ann shot back. “And that is why I am in this mess. It is not your place to hoist me out of it, even though you have done so much already—”

  “Sorensen and the newspapers have ensured this is as much my mess as yours.” Adam’s jaw flexed. Her response had not pleased him.

  Ann pressed her hand upon the linen to anchor herself. She drew in a breath, reaching for calm. “Now I know why you have been silent since Munich. Your reasoning is incorrect, Adam. It must be. Marrying is what everyone else thinks we should do. You do not do what everyone thinks you should do, and you don’t care about their opinions. How you reached this point—”

  “I must marry sooner or later. Why not you? It will help resolve the matter.”

  “I am not French.” She would raise an objection to every single reasonable point he cared to give her, in order to make him understand how mad his notion was.

  “You are amenable company.”

  “I can’t stand silence.”

  “Yet you survived a whole afternoon of it.” His tone was calm.

  “I do not love you.”

  His brow lifted. “You love the Duke even less.”

  Ann’s breath escaped her again. “There. That is the sticking point.”

  “Sticking point?”

  Ann reached for the champagne once more. Her hand trembled. She took a deep swallow, while she marshalled her thoughts. “I cannot run away from one marriage, merely to enter a second for the same reason.”

  “Then marry me for different reasons.” Adam’s tone was patient, but his eyes spoke of building emotion.

  “What reasons?”

  “Does it matter?”

  “Yes,” she said flatly. “Of course it does. It always matters.”

  Adam didn’t respond at once. He didn’t look away, either.

  Ann realized she was smoothing out the tablecloth just as he had done. She made herself stop. “It is…it’s only that…until just now, I’ve not thought of you as…as…”

  “Husband material,” Adam replied, his voice low.

  “As anything but a distant cousin who has been so kind to help me through this,” she amended.

  Adam grimaced. “Kind…” he muttered.

  “Yes,” she insisted, her tone firm.

  Adam studied her for a very long moment. Then he blew out a long breath. “You need time to think it through. I dropped it upon you after taking that time for myself. It would be unfair to give you any less room for consideration.” He paused. “But you should consider my proposal. Promise me you will.”

  Ann tried to match his reasonable tone. “I will consider it.”

  “While you consider the matter, also reflect upon this,” Adam said in the same low voice. “You are the only woman I have ever met who does not frustrate me. We get along tolerably well, and I suspect we could learn to get along even better, in time. We compliment each other.”

  Ann’s heart rattled against her chest. “I must become accustomed to the idea.”

  Adam nodded and plucked the champagne bottle from the ice bucket. “And now I will leave the matter alone, while your appetite is still intact.”

  It was far too late for that, but Ann did not say so. For that meal, she was the one to retreat into silence.

  Adam didn’t seem to notice.

  Ann returned to her compartment as soon as the meal was complete. Her heart had not properly settled since Adam made his startling observation. Suddenly, she was glad to be able to step into a room and shut the door with the world on the other side, no matter how small the room.

  Undressing without a maid was more difficult than dressing without one. Laces that could be tightened merely by tugging at the far ends of cords held out to each side required reaching around behind her to loosen them. She struggled and strained her arms until she had introduced enough looseness in the bodice to slip it over her head. She had found the process just as difficult the last time she had removed the satin gown.

  The arduousness of the task made Adam’s premade garments look sensible, for one merely had to loosen buttons which were on the side, not high up on one’s back.

  The day had been a full one indeed, even if she didn’t count Adam’s proposal. She was tired and more than ready to retire for the night, yet Ann found she tossed and turned and sleep hovered just out of reach.

  She stared up at the small moon showing through the window and the passing shadows of trees. A mountain peak receded behind the train. She watched it grow smaller, focusing upon the crags and snow cap visible in the moonlight, keeping her thoughts occupied until the mundane examination allowed sleep to slide over her.

  It was well beyond breakfast when Ann rose the next morning and donned the tweed suit once more. She combed out her hair, coiled and pinned it and realized she was listening for sounds beyond the connecting door. Was Adam there?

  When her rumbling stomach would not let her put off the moment any longer, Ann moved through the train to the dining car, which was empty as she had hoped it might be. It was closer to morning tea, so she asked for tea and a scone and jam, which did not fluster the German waiters at all.

  When the waiter brought her scone to the table, he added, “We will be arriving in Budapest shortly, madame. You are welcome to remain upon the train while it is in the station.”

  “How long will the train stop in Budapest?” she asked, alarm touching her.

  “Two hours at least, madam. Plenty of time to take a turn about the platform.” He smiled at her.

  Ann finished her scone only because she was hungry, but she ate too quickly and it lodged in her chest, making it ache. She drank big mouthfuls of tea to try to wash it down, but the mass throbbed in her chest as she moved back to the sleeping car. She knocked on Adam’s door with only a small hope that he would be there.

  When the door opened, her surprise was overtaken by her relief.

  Adam was in shirt sleeves. He lifted his brow.

  “We’re to stop in Budapest for two hours at least,” she said. “It is a scheduled stop. They will be expecting us.”

  “And might have someone on the platform to greet us?” Adam stepped back. “You’d better come in.”

  She stepped into the compartment, suddenly shy. It had not bothered her to be there, before. Now Adam had spoken of marriage, it made a difference.

  Adm shut the door and moved over to the chair in front of the tiny writing desk. “There is a note here for you, by the way.” He picked up a sealed, square envelope and held it out to her.

  “For me?” Ann spotted the crest in the corner of the envelope. “Oh, the Duchess.” Reluctantly, she opened the note and read it. “She wants to have afternoon tea with me.” She sighed. “Hopefully, I am still on the train by then.”

  “I planned to stay in the compartment until the train pulls out once more,” Adam said. “You should stay here with me.”

  “Oh.” She pressed her lips together and glanced around the cabin. The bed had clearly been slept in, for the covers were in disarray and flung back as they would be when one rose from the bed with great energy…

  The image seemed to stick in her mind the way the morsel of scone was lodged in her chest. Her cheeks heated. “Oh, this is impossible,” she breathed.

  “Standing in one place?”

  “Being here in this room with you and with a closed door.” Ann pushed the letter into her pocket. “If you had not spoken, it would not have occurred to me to mind, but now it is all I can think about.” Her gaze fell upon the bed once more.

  She wrenched her gaze back to Adam.

  He was not smiling. Nor did he appear to be amused, which she had expected him to be.

  “You may call me foolish, if you wish,” Ann told him.

  “For thinking of me as a man, instead of a convenient help-meet? On the contrary, I find that encouraging.” His voice was very low. Deep. It seemed to play along her spine, with light, invisible fingers.

  Ann let out an unsteady breath. “You speak as if you had arrived at that frame of reference long ago.”

  Adam’s mouth turned up in a small smile. “Do you mean, have I entertained the thought of kissing you?”

  “Have you?” She wasn’t sure if she was delighted or horrified.

  “Yes.” His gaze didn’t let her go.

  Her heart jumped a little. “I should leave.”

  “Yes.” It seemed to her overheated imagination that there was a note of warning in his voice.

  Yet she remained where she was. Her heart worked far too hard, barely allowing her to string together sensible thought. She said hesitantly, fighting for coherence; “Perhaps you should kiss me.”

  Adam grew very still.

  “I mean…purely so I might measure…”

  “Measure what?” he breathed.

  “I’m not entirely sure,” she whispered. “Perhaps, if you kissed me, I might understand. It is all a jumble in my mind, you see.”

  Adam moved closer. “If you are sure…” He lifted her chin with his fingers. They were hot against her flesh and she shivered.

  “I’m not sure of anything—” she began, but got no further, for his lips touched hers.

  She had never been kissed before. Not like this. Filip had touched his lips to hers only three times since proposing, and each had been dry, cool contacts which left her unmoved.

  Adam, though, kissed her the way the heroes in operas kissed their leading ladies. He pressed his lips to hers with ardent pressure.

  Who moved closer to the other? She didn’t know, but suddenly they were pressed against each other and his arm was around her back, holding her there. His lips were heated. He was hot against her, even through the layers of her clothes. And so large! Only now could she truly appreciate how tall he was, when she had to strain to reach his lips even though he was half-lifting her from her feet just with his arm around her back.

  The pragmatic thoughts drifted from her, replaced by a languor that permeated every limb and corpuscle, making her feel weak and heated. Her inner core ached.

  When his tongue slipped between her lips to stroke them and touch her own, Ann had no thought of tearing herself away from him as a good maid should. She had heard prattle from debutantes about this disgusting practice of men, only now it seemed perfectly natural. Natural…and very pleasant.

  More than pleasant.

  Ann gave no thought about halting the highly inappropriate kiss. The slowing of the train and its long, mournful whistle announcing its arrival at Budapest did that.

  Ann clutched at Adam as the train gave a shudder at the touch of the brakes, which squealed. She blinked. It was far too bright in the cabin.

  Adam did not let her go. Instead, he lifted his fingers to her face and brushed an errant hair away from it. It was a simple gesture, but she held her breath as he did it.

  His gaze met hers. “Is that enough measurement for you?” His voice was ragged.

  “I…” She swallowed. “Now I am even more confused…” she whispered truthfully.

  He brought his lips to hers once more, this time, merely to touch them, but it was nothing like Filip’s dry touch. Adam’s lips made her tremble.

  “Confusion is a good sign,” he breathed, so that his lips brushed against hers.

  The train came to a shuddering halt and lurched, sending them both staggering. Adam kept her on her feet, although how he stayed on his own was a mystery.

  Ann made herself shift away from him. “I must think.”