He tested the chains. Despite surface rust, they were strong enough to hold an elephant. Sitting or lying down was impossible. If he fell asleep he'd hang painfully from the manacles and wake up in agony. Not that he was likely to sleep. With so few hours left, he didn't want to waste any.

Though the manacles weren't painful in themselves, being unable to move was a subtle form of torture. A rivulet flowed behind him, and soon his cotton garments would be saturated. A mosquito buzzed around his face before settling to gorge on his neck, and he couldn't slap it away. Phantom itches began crawling over his limbs.

Forget the physical irritations; at least he was still in a position to itch. Tomorrow at this time he'd be a corpse buried without name or honor, or tossed out to feed the dogs.

A series of slow, deep breaths began to restore his calm. Then the door swung open again. He stiffened. The sergeant coming back for more cat-and-mouse games?

A thin, shabby laborer entered, the door behind him slamming shut and the key turning with ugly finality. The dim light made it hard to see details-until the newcomer looked up from under the wide straw hat with Troth's beautiful brown eyes.

"Christ, they caught you, too?" Instinctively he moved toward her, only to be jerked up short by the chains, the iron cuffs biting into his wrists and ankles.

She shook her head and touched a finger to her lips, waiting while the guards who'd brought her marched away with heavy footsteps. When she was sure they were gone, she turned toward him. Her eyes widened in horror as they adjusted to the dim light and she saw how he was chained. "Gods above!"

"They've got me trussed like a Christmas goose," he said matter-of-factly. "How did you get in if you're not a prisoner?"

She embraced him, her arms sliding between him and the wall. Her hat fell backward to hang on its neck cord as she pressed her face into the angle of his throat and shoulder. She was exquisitely warm and soft, a reminder of all the world's pleasures.

"I bribed my way in," she said huskily. "In China, almost anything can be done if one has enough money to pay the squeeze required."

He'd learned that himself in the East. Even so, it was dangerous for her to have come, but he wasn't unselfish enough to wish that she hadn't. He rubbed his cheek against her hair, aching to hold her. "I'm amazed that even a bribe could get you in here to see a dangerous spy like me."

When she tensed, he said quietly, "I know that I'm under sentence of death, so you don't have to be the one to break the news."

She made a choked sound and retreated, her hands still touching his waist. "I told the guards I'd lived in Canton and knew the ways of Fan-qui, including the death ceremony that must be performed. I said if I could visit you and do the rituals that would appease your ghost, your family would be most pleased, and the guards would not have to worry about being haunted. Between that and the bribe, they cooperated gladly."

"What a clever girl you are." His gaze fastened on the curve of her ear. How could he not have noticed how elegant it was? "Lord knows I'm glad to see you, but the sooner you leave, the better. Those brutes might not stay bought for very long."

"But I came to help you escape." She looked at the chains and bit her lip.

"Perhaps with your wing chun skill it would have been possible if I weren't chained to the wall. But it would take a good steel saw and several hours to free me of these, and we don't have either."

"I'll steal the keys!"

He wanted to believe rescue was possible, but he couldn't fool himself. "No, my dear girl. If there were one chance in ten-one in a hundred, even-I'd say try, but all you would achieve is your own death. I won't allow that."

Her eyes flashed. "How the devil would you stop me from trying?"

This time he did laugh. "How fierce you are! But think of the dungeon, the guards, the archers, not to mention the walls around the yamen and the city, and the hundred miles of countryside between here and Canton. Can you honestly say there is a chance in hell of both of us escaping?"

Tears glimmered in her eyes. "I can't leave you here! What… will become of me?"

He swore to himself. By getting himself killed, he was breaking the promise he'd made to see her safely to England.

What could be done? Dominic and his wife would help her, of course, and Gavin if he set up a London office, but they couldn't do everything for her that Kyle had intended. Unless…

"Troth," he said urgently. "Marry me."

Chapter 26

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Her jaw dropped. "Have you lost your wits?"

"Not at all. There's nothing that can be done to save my worthless Fan-qui life, but I want you to tell my family, Mei-Lian. They must know of my death. Leaving them to wonder for years would be cruel." Especially for Dominic. Kyle had almost gone mad when his twin had been injured at Waterloo. Would his brother sense his death even before the news reached England? Perhaps-but he would deny that knowledge even to himself. For Dominic's sanity, he must be told as soon as possible.

"Of course I'll inform your family, but marriage is neither possible nor necessary."

"Wrong on both counts. As my widow, you'll have an inheritance and the protection of the Renbourne family. It's the least I can do to make up for getting you into this mess. I know that in China widows aren't supposed to remarry, but in England remarriage is common. In fact, being a widow will be an advantage." It would spare her questions about her lack of virginity when she found a real husband.

She frowned, perplexed. "But how can we marry here, with no one to bear witness?"

"No witness is necessary."

"Would that be legal?" she asked doubtfully.

"In Scotland all that's required is for two people to declare themselves married. Of course we're a long way from Scotland, but we're both half-Scottish, and I own property in the Highlands, so a good lawyer could certainly make the case that a marriage between us is valid. Since there is no reason for anyone to challenge the ceremony, it will be legal enough." His voice dropped. "Please, Troth. I wanted to do so much more for you, but I can't. My name is the only protection I have left to give."

Her eyes squeezed shut, but couldn't prevent tears from sliding down her cheeks. "It is a greater honor than I ever dreamed of, my lord. I will gladly be your wife, even if only for a few hours."

He thought of his wedding to Constancia, performed by a Spanish priest as she lay dying. This time, he was the one who would end the marriage by death. He had no talent for being a husband. "The honor is mine, my dear girl."

"How do we marry ourselves?"

"Take both my hands."

She stood on tiptoe and stretched her arms, which were just long enough so they could hold hands. The position flattened her across his body. Nice. "One of the traditional forms of Scottish marriage calls for holding hands over running water," he said wryly as the rivulet behind him flowed down the wall and between their feet. "We've got that if nothing else."

She bit her lip. "How can you joke at such a time?"

"I'd rather you remembered me smiling. There will be time enough later for tears." He interlaced their fingers. "My dearest Troth Mei-Lian Montgomery, I pledge you my troth. Has a nice ring to it, doesn't it?"

She smiled up at him through her tears. "I was named for my father's sister and grandmother. I always liked being called Troth."

Hugh Montgomery must have seen into the future, for if ever a woman deserved her name, it was this one. Honest, loyal, and brave to the backbone. "Now make your pledge to me, my dear."

Voice trembling, she said, "Kyle Renbourne, I pledge you my troth, to be my lord and husband as long as we both shall live."

"You have the ring I gave you in Canton. It will do nicely for a wedding ring."

She reached under her tunic, and after a moment extracted the golden Celtic knotwork band from one of the compartments of the money belt. She kissed it, then held it to his lips so he could do the same before she slipped it onto the third finger of her left hand, where it hung loosely. She pulled the ring off and returned it to the safety of her money belt. "I don't want to lose it. I'll have it made smaller in Macao." Nor was it safe for her to wear a piece of Western jewelry until she'd left China.

But the deed was done, and it seemed very right that a Scottish ring symbolize their union. "Please kiss me, wife," he said softly. "We have a few minutes still, and I'd like to spend them with you holding me."

Her mouth sought his with aching tenderness. Amazingly, desire flared, undimmed by the prospect of death. Or perhaps death sparked passion, a bright flame defying the oncoming dark.

She felt it, too. Her mouth trailed sweet kisses across his prickly, unshaven chin, then downward. " I had not known a male body could be so beautiful, my lord husband," she murmured, her breath warm in the hollow of his throat. "No other man will ever bring me such pleasure."

"Don't say that!" He caught his breath as she parted his slashed tunic and pressed her lips to each bruise and laceration. "Mourn me for a while, but your life must not end because mine has. Search for love, because it's the most precious gift life offers."

"Don't speak to me of other men, you fool! For now, there is only you."

She tongued his nipple, the scalding pleasure obliterating his pains. Her hands slid downward, skimming his belly as she unfastened his damaged trousers. He closed his eyes, giving himself up to sensation as she stroked his heated flesh.