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touch her face, to feel her smooth, porcelain skin underneath his fingertips, to slide his hands through her silky hair, to taste her lips.
    She smelled clean, like the morning dew in a garden of roses, and he wanted to drink in her innocence. But the innocence of her cheery smile and twinkling eyes belied the strength in her body. A trim waist and slender ankles were proof she was no lazy miss. He could easily crush her, but he had no doubt she’d put up a fight.
    “I have missed the ocean terribly.” Her brilliant azure eyes came to light on him.
    Is that why she agreed to the position, to be near the ocean? To relive her past? No, certainly there was more to this woman. There was always more.
    She shivered. Before he thought better, he shrugged the jacket from his shoulders. Disgusted with himself, he tossed the garment toward her, watching it land in her lap haphazardly. Apparently, he hadn’t lost all of his English propriety.
    “Oh, thank you.”
    He jumped from the rocks, landing with a soft thud to the sand.
    “Do you…do you like the ocean?” She scampered after him.
    “Not particularly,” he replied.
    She stilled and blinked her eyes wide.
    He stopped walking, his curiosity overtaking his common sense. “What?”
    She shook her head. “I just…” She averted her gaze, and her face flushed a soft pink, like the inside of a shell. “I apologize. Honestly, I hadn’t expected an answer.”
    “Why?”
    Her flush deepened to a magenta, a magenta that matched the horizon hovering over the sea. “I don’t know,” she whispered.
    He tried not to think about how vulnerable she looked in his oversized jacket, tried not to think about pressing his mouth to her rose-colored lips, tried not to think about burying his face in her hair and breathing in her clean fragrance—anything that would make him forget the scent of spices and herbs, the scent of damp earth and jungle. Instead, he focused on the fact that she wouldn’t survive a day in India. Nor would she survive a fortnight with him.
    “Did you think me mute? Or mad? A common mistake.” He started down the beach, wondering if she’d follow.
    “Perhaps ’tis your demeanor around visitors.”
    He released a wry laugh; he couldn’t help himself. “And how is that?”
    “Well.” She peeked up at him through her thick lashes.
    He stopped again and crossed his arms over his chest, his legs braced apart. “Continue.”
    She frowned. “Well, that’s not to say…what I mean is that sometimes you seem a bit…unrefined or uncultured.” She went every shade of red, obviously realizing how impertinent her words sounded. “Well, I didn’t mean that exactly….”
    “An animal.” He’d heard the words so many times before he didn’t even flinch.
    She flinched, and paled. “I didn’t say that.”
    “You didn’t have to.”
    She plucked at the yellowed lace on the cuff of her sleeve. Was she embarrassed, or did his presence unnerve her as it did so many others? Why the hell did he care? Why was she any different? She wasn’t.
    Leo swallowed hard and closed his eyes for the briefest of moments. “I do not see the purpose of being polite to people who are here to judge and ridicule.”
    “I’m not here to judge or ridicule you.”
    Her wide blue eyes bespoke of a sincerity he wished he could believe. Certainly, she was as shallow as the rest of them, and if he hadn’t decided he could use a governess to further his plan, he’d frighten her into leaving. If they believed he was willing to learn, they’d never suspect his true intentions.
    He started down the beach, focusing on the roar of the waves, the rising sun spreading a palette of pastels across the sky. But at the forefront of his mind, she resided, taunting, tempting. He knew she followed, could hear her harsh breathing as she hurried to catch him.
    “You seem very passionate about painting.”
    He didn’t answer. How could he? He painted to forget a past no other could possibly