James shook his head. “They didn't know. They were told—everyone was told—that Marabelle had been killed in a hunting accident.”

“I—I don't know what to say.”

“There's really nothing to say. Or do. That's the problem.” James looked away for a moment, his eyes focusing on some spot on the horizon, then asked, “Do you remember when I said you reminded me of someone?”

“Yes,” Caroline said slowly, horror beginning to dawn in her eyes. “Oh, no…not her.”

James nodded. “I'm not certain why, but you do.”

She bit her lip and stared at her feet. Dear God, was that why Blake had kissed her? Because she somehow resembled his dead fiancée? She suddenly felt very small and very insignificant. And very undesirable.

“It's really nothing,” James said, clearly concerned by her unhappy expression.

“I would never take a risk like that,” Caroline said firmly. “Not if I had someone to love.” She swallowed. “Not if I had someone who loved me.”

James touched her hand. “It's been a lonely time for you these past few years, hasn't it?”

But Caroline wasn't ready for sympathetic comments. “What happened to Blake?” she asked sharply. “After she died.”

“He was devastated. Drunk for three months. He blamed himself.”

“Yes, I'm sure he would. He's the sort to take responsibility for everyone, isn't he?”

James nodded.

“But surely he realizes now that it wasn't his fault.”

“In his head, perhaps, but not in his heart.”

There was a long pause while they both stared at the ground. When Caroline finally spoke, her voice was soft and unnaturally tentative. “Do you really think he thinks I look like her?”

James shook his head. “No. And you don't look like her. Marabelle was quite blond, actually, with pale blue eyes and—”

“Then why did you say—”

“Because it's rare to meet a woman of such spirit.” When Caroline didn't say anything, James grinned and added, “That was a compliment, by the way.”

Caroline twisted her lips into something that was halfway between a grimace and a wry smile.

“Thank you, then. But I still don't see why he's being such a beast.”

“Consider the situation from his view. First he thought you were a traitor, the very breed of vermin who'd killed Marabelle. Then he found himself in the position of your protector, which can only remind him of how he failed his fiancée.”

“But he didn't fail her!”

“Of course he didn't,” James replied. “But he doesn't know that. And furthermore, it's quite obvious he finds you rather fetching.”

Caroline blushed and was immediately furious with herself for doing so.

“That, I think,” James said, “is what scares him the most. What if, horror of horrors, he were to fall in love with you?”

Caroline didn't see that as the worst horror in the world, but she kept the thought to herself.

“Can you even count how many ways he'd think he was betraying Marabelle? He could never live with himself.”

She didn't know what to say in reply, so she just pointed to a hole in the ground and said, “Put the plant there.”