Her jaw dropped. “Did she? I'm astonished. She must like you very much.

She can scarcely bring herself to talk to most men.”

“She seems to feel rather comfortable with me,” he explained.

“And you?” she pressed, intensity radiating from her vivid green eyes.

“I enjoy her company,” Christopher said. Then he returned tenaciously to the

point. “What's wrong with her?”

“Nothing. What on earth do you mean?” She said it too fast, her voice

uncertain.

“So, there is something.” He sighed. “I want to court her. I asked her if I could talk to her father. She refused.”

Though Julia's eyes widened at his admission, she replied in a calm, neutral

voice. “She did? I'm not surprised.”

“What am I not understanding here? She accepted my kiss.” The words

escaped before he could stop them, and heat bloomed along his cheekbones.

“Christopher!” Julia sat up straight on the chaise and glared at her son.

“What?” he demanded, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning against

the door frame, a study in false nonchalance. “I kissed her. I didn't seduce her. I

wouldn't do that.”

“Of course not,” Julia agreed. She set her novel aside and stood, pacing in front of the fire, her agitation radiating farther than the heat of the dancing flames. “Listen, she's right. You mustn't talk to her father. If you do, you will cause her all kinds of problems.”

“So, he truly doesn't want her to have suitors?”

“He truly doesn't,” Julia concurred.

“But what about her future?” Christopher demanded.

She gave her head a little shake. “It doesn't concern him.”

“What kind of father is he anyway?”

Julia gulped. “A terrible one.”

It's unlike Mother to say unkind words about anyone, Christopher thought, startled by her vehemence. “How?”

She looked away. “I'm not sure it's wise to tell you. Not yet. I wanted you to

meet her first, to be entranced by her.”

Christopher sighed at her stalling. “I did, and I think most likely I am, but

how on earth can I move forward with this if it must be kept a secret from her father? He has authority over her.”

“Yes. Damned shame.”

Christopher gawked. He had never in his whole life heard his mother use

strong language. “You have to tell me,” he insisted.

“Her father…” Julia took a deep breath and swallowed again. Her anger

seemed solid enough to choke her. “He beats her.”

Silence. Long silence as Christopher attempted, without success, to force her

words and his image of his lady friend to integrate. She's sweet, gentle and quiet.

Why would anyone beat her? Mother must be mistaken.

No. Be honest, man. Mother is no fool. There's some reason she believes it.

Finally, he managed to blurt, “Badly?”

Julia bit her lip and nodded, her eyes growing shiny in the dim firelight.

“Terribly. You can't imagine. The bruises I've seen… they would break your heart, and it's escalating.”

He… no. That can't be. But it would explain everything. Her terror. Herstrange secretiveness. An image of Katerina floated in his mind. Wide brown eyes. Bold nose. Full, kissable mouth marred with… “She had a cut on her lip.”

Julia closed her eyes. When she opened them, tears shimmered, and she

rubbed her face. “You see? I've never known him to hit her face.”

“She said she bit it,” he argued, trying not to accept the evidence he'd seen

with his own eyes. Thought had long since deserted him, and he only disagreed

to try to prevent his feelings from overwhelming him.

“If she did, it was because she was in pain.”

“Oh, God.” Christopher could hardly stand to consider the sweet girl he was

coming to care for being brutalized, and yet, with each moment, the evidence of