Oh, God, Francesca,Now there’s a good one.Why?Why? Why?” He gave each one a different tenor, as if he were testing out the word, asking it to<br />different people.<br />“Why?” he asked again, this time with increased volume<br />as he turned around to face her.<br />“Why? It’s<br />because I love you, damn me to hell. Because I’ve always loved you. Because I loved you when you<br />were with John, and I loved you when I was in India, and God only knows I don’t deserve you, but I<br />love you, anyway.”<br />Francesca sagged against the door.<br />“How’s that for a witty little joke?” he mocked. “I loveyou. I loveyou, my cousin’s wife. I loveyou, the<br />one woman I can never have. I loveyou, Francesca Bridger-ton Stirling.