“I feel afraid of what the consequences might be of my being here,” she admitted, and he saw her put a hand over her heart. “I’m not certain it’s wise, but . . .”

“But?” he asked when she hesitated.

She looked away when she spoke. “Your letter was very convincing. You made some valid points, but . . . you need to know it doesn’t necessarily change how I feel about the matter . . . or what I believe is best.”

“Sometimes following your heart is not the easiest course,” he said.

“As you mentioned in the letter.” She looked at him again.

Overcome with a sudden desperation, as if she might run away again and never come back, he stepped toward her, relieved when she didn’t back away. “I would do anything for you, Amala. With time I hope you will come to believe that’s true.”

She lifted her gaze to meet his, and he could see her shoulders rise and fall with her breathing. “I already believe it’s true,” she said. “But that doesn’t necessarily mean that being together is the best decision . . . for us . . . for our families.”

“You are wise and strong, Amala. But I hear you telling me the way things should be according to the dictates of our society. I hear you speak of the matter with perfect practicality.” He lowered his voice to a whisper. “But what does your heart tell you, Amala?”

As soon as he asked the question, he noticed her teetering slightly, and he took hold of her upper arms to help steady her. She lowered her head as if she were dizzy and took hold of his arms in the same manner. When she lifted her head, he’d pressed his lips against her brow spontaneously, with no resistance on either of their parts. He pressed a lengthy kiss there and felt her hands tighten around his arms.

“I’m so afraid to speak what is in my heart, Henry. I’ve seen so much in my life that makes me believe only heartache and suffering could possibly come from our being together. How can knowing you so short a time make me question all of that? I don’t know if I can ever balance out what I know and what I feel.”