bed and read them late at night after my father passed out.
The words of the letter leaped unbidden into her mind, jolting her with their significance. Compassion gripped her heart at the thought of that small boy hoarding the money he'd worked so hard for and using it to purchase books, books his father had burned more than once.
Jason was still hiding his books. He guarded his secrets carefully. How would he react if he ever learned that for the past year she and not Derek had taken his detailed lists and purchased the books he'd requested?
"The most I can manage is the month's worth of newspapers we get when the mail steamer comes up from Manaus," he was saying. "And why would you want a book on coffee cultivation?"
Caroline shrugged, trying to appear casual while her mind churned with unspoken questions. "I told you, I'm curious." She held his gaze for as long as she could, but something in those iridescent blue depths forced her to look away before he penetrated her very soul. It was the second time she'd experienced the sensation of being scrutinized, physically and emotionally, by those sharp, inquisitive eyes.
Opening her book to the place where she'd left off yesterday, she tried to dismiss him, but Jason would not be dismissed so easily. He stood still, studying her intently. She read the same paragraph three times without comprehension before finally lowering the book and gazing back at him.
"There are no seasons here," he told her, "not like you're accustomed to at any rate. There's the rainy season when it rains every day, and there's the dry season when it rains every other day."
She smiled up at him serenely, and he frowned and looked away. "I'm not at all what you expected, am I?" she asked.
Jason returned his gaze to her with a shrug. "I don't even remember what I'd expected any more. What about you? Am I what you'd expected? I mean, you must have had some kind of expectations or you wouldn't have come here."
Caroline felt her face burn as she remembered the fantasies she'd nurtured in New Orleans. She was twelve years old when her mother had died, so she remembered what it was like to have a complete family. And she remembered how it had been between her parents—the love, the laughter, the secret glances they shared that she didn't understand at the time. That was what she wanted, what she'd dreamed of. She wanted the kind of marriage her parents had enjoyed, a partnership.
Those dreams seemed quite ridiculous now. She sat in a tropical garden in the heart of the Amazon Valley surrounded by the pervasive jungle with her irascible, unrefined husband, a man who had been cut off from civilization for so long he'd reverted to behaving like a savage.
"I still can't understand why a young, attractive woman like yourself would want to live in such an isolated place," he said. "Or why you would marry a man you'd never laid eyes on. You're obviously not desperate."
"No," she agreed, "only lonely."
She'd been lonely since her father's death. Losing the love and camaraderie they'd shared had left her hungry for that kind of spiritual belonging. Foolishly, she'd turned to Wade Marshall to fill the void.
Her first husband had exuded taste and impeccable breeding, but his dissolute living had nearly destroyed them.
Studying her tall, ruggedly handsome husband, she had the inexplicable feeling that she could be happy with him, in spite of his lack of polish, social grace, sophistication. Somehow those things seemed unimportant, meaningless, even ridiculous.
"May I ask how old you are?" he asked, bringing her back from her reverie.
"Twenty-five."
Jason quirked a shocked eyebrow at her answer.
"You needn't look so shocked. Twenty-five is hardly ancient."
"That's true, but you.... I mean, you're so lovely, so..." His incendiary gaze seared her flesh and melted her composure. "Why didn't you marry before now?"
Caroline swallowed her fear. Finally, the moment had come, the moment she had been dreading
The words of the letter leaped unbidden into her mind, jolting her with their significance. Compassion gripped her heart at the thought of that small boy hoarding the money he'd worked so hard for and using it to purchase books, books his father had burned more than once.
Jason was still hiding his books. He guarded his secrets carefully. How would he react if he ever learned that for the past year she and not Derek had taken his detailed lists and purchased the books he'd requested?
"The most I can manage is the month's worth of newspapers we get when the mail steamer comes up from Manaus," he was saying. "And why would you want a book on coffee cultivation?"
Caroline shrugged, trying to appear casual while her mind churned with unspoken questions. "I told you, I'm curious." She held his gaze for as long as she could, but something in those iridescent blue depths forced her to look away before he penetrated her very soul. It was the second time she'd experienced the sensation of being scrutinized, physically and emotionally, by those sharp, inquisitive eyes.
Opening her book to the place where she'd left off yesterday, she tried to dismiss him, but Jason would not be dismissed so easily. He stood still, studying her intently. She read the same paragraph three times without comprehension before finally lowering the book and gazing back at him.
"There are no seasons here," he told her, "not like you're accustomed to at any rate. There's the rainy season when it rains every day, and there's the dry season when it rains every other day."
She smiled up at him serenely, and he frowned and looked away. "I'm not at all what you expected, am I?" she asked.
Jason returned his gaze to her with a shrug. "I don't even remember what I'd expected any more. What about you? Am I what you'd expected? I mean, you must have had some kind of expectations or you wouldn't have come here."
Caroline felt her face burn as she remembered the fantasies she'd nurtured in New Orleans. She was twelve years old when her mother had died, so she remembered what it was like to have a complete family. And she remembered how it had been between her parents—the love, the laughter, the secret glances they shared that she didn't understand at the time. That was what she wanted, what she'd dreamed of. She wanted the kind of marriage her parents had enjoyed, a partnership.
Those dreams seemed quite ridiculous now. She sat in a tropical garden in the heart of the Amazon Valley surrounded by the pervasive jungle with her irascible, unrefined husband, a man who had been cut off from civilization for so long he'd reverted to behaving like a savage.
"I still can't understand why a young, attractive woman like yourself would want to live in such an isolated place," he said. "Or why you would marry a man you'd never laid eyes on. You're obviously not desperate."
"No," she agreed, "only lonely."
She'd been lonely since her father's death. Losing the love and camaraderie they'd shared had left her hungry for that kind of spiritual belonging. Foolishly, she'd turned to Wade Marshall to fill the void.
Her first husband had exuded taste and impeccable breeding, but his dissolute living had nearly destroyed them.
Studying her tall, ruggedly handsome husband, she had the inexplicable feeling that she could be happy with him, in spite of his lack of polish, social grace, sophistication. Somehow those things seemed unimportant, meaningless, even ridiculous.
"May I ask how old you are?" he asked, bringing her back from her reverie.
"Twenty-five."
Jason quirked a shocked eyebrow at her answer.
"You needn't look so shocked. Twenty-five is hardly ancient."
"That's true, but you.... I mean, you're so lovely, so..." His incendiary gaze seared her flesh and melted her composure. "Why didn't you marry before now?"
Caroline swallowed her fear. Finally, the moment had come, the moment she had been dreading
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