“Why not?” she asked. “Isn’t that what people do when they are attracted to one another?”
“Yes, sometimes. But for us it would be very foolish,” Patrick explained. “For one, it would ruin any chance of you getting married—”
“How many times do I have to tell you that I don’t want to marry before you will believe me?”
“Then don’t get married,” he said. “But I will not be the one to ruin you.”
“Ruin me?”
“Yes, ruin you. Because that is what will happen. You cannot take a lover, Linley. It is a game that you do not want to get caught playing at.”
She crossed her arms over her chest. “Is this because of Lady Wolstanton?”
“Don’t be ridiculous. This has nothing to do with her. Can’t you see I’m only trying to save you years of heartache?” he asked. “What do you expect from this? One night of pleasure? A week? Perhaps the rest of the trip spent sneaking around and hopping beds?” He shook his head. “If your feelings for me are even a fraction of what I feel for you, then you know we’d never be able to end it rationally. It would consume us, and we’d never be able to carry on with our lives.”
“Isn’t it worth the risk, though?” she begged. “If we care for each other?”
“We shouldn’t risk it because we care for each other.” He took her face in his hands. “Oh, Linley, you have so much to learn about love.”
“Then why won’t you teach me? Don’t I deserve to know what everyone else knows?”
Patrick sighed. “Someday your time will come. And when it does, you will look back and thank me for stopping you from making a terrible mistake.”
CHAPTER FORTY
Meditation did not come as easily as Patrick thought it would. Every morning after breakfast, he made his way to his corner of the monastery courtyard to spend the next few hours in thoughtful silence. After a few days, he still had not found the purpose of his life, but Patrick discovered he was able to sort through the least important things in his mind. It was a start, at least.
He easily pushed away concerns about money. His immediate needs were met, so he was not worried about anything material. Patrick felt blessed to have clean, dry clothes and one meal every day. He was in better shape than he’d ever been, so health was not an issue. Those things came and went quickly from his mind, but a few things seemed to stick no matter how hard he tried to clear them away.
Naturally, he thought of Georgiana, Hereford, and the baby. He hoped they were well and not too worried about him. He wanted to write them, but obviously posting a letter was impossible. The lama told him not to concern himself with impossibilities, so he learned to push that out of his head as well.
Then there was the question of Linley.
Dear, sweet Linley, who knew not what she did. Tortured him. Teased him. He begged her to leave him alone, but when she did, Patrick thought his heart would break. How could she understand? He wanted her desperately, but this was neither the time nor place.
It would be a horrible idea to make love to her. To kiss her and feel her body beneath his hands…
No matter how hard he tried, Patrick’s thoughts always wandered to Linley. Even when he cleared everything else away, she was still there. His meditation sessions became exercises in fantasy. He dreamed up all the things he wanted to do to her, all the things he wanted her to do to him.
God, how he desired her! He ached with it. He ground his teeth at night and fought with himself to keep from going to her, knowing she lay only a few doors down. Wanting him.
It was hell on his resolve. But Patrick was determined to do the right thing—for her sake, if not for his own. He couldn’t go around deflowering virgins. What would that say about him? Had he no self-respect? No decency? Fantasizing about her was bad enough.
What would the lama say if he knew Patrick spent the majority of his meditation time thinking about sex? It could not be healthy.
Well, it was healthy—he was a man, after all. But it certainly wasn’t good.
***
Linley watched him from her bedroom window. How could he be so calm, sitting there with his legs crossed and his hands in his lap? He didn’t even look like he was breathing.
She ground her nails into the windowsill. He wasn’t even thinking about her! She sulked and slunk, snapping at anyone who spoke to her, yet he was as calm and cool as one of those clouds out there.
What was wrong with him?
What was wrong with her?