The Awakening 0f A Forbidden Passion (Historical Regency Romance)

by Emily Honeyfield

  “We should try to work on your memory,” he said as he turned and held out his arm again.

  She accepted his arm and enjoyed leaning into his tall, muscular frame. “I am hardly worried about it.”

  “Missing time is never a good thing,” Doctor Rowley assured her. “Besides, you grew quite upset the last time we tried to bring forth any new memories. I would think that would make you curious as to what is hiding there.”

  Priscilla scoffed. “It makes me want to leave it buried. Surely I should be happier without it.”

  “Now, I thought you had agreed to try,” Doctor Rowley said, his sensible reminder making her feel all the more guilty.

  Priscilla sighed in defeat. “Fine. I shall try to remember. I just do not have to agree that it is worth the pain.”

  “If something is causing you pain then it is worth the effort to heal it,” Doctor Rowley countered.

  There really was no good reason to argue with the man. She shook her head. “You call me stubborn, but you have the mindset of a mule who has decided not to be moved.”

  Doctor Rowley looked at her laughed. His laugh held such merriment that it caused Priscilla to laugh along with him. The oaks seemed to shake their leaves in amusement right along with them.

  “I think we make quite the pair then,” Doctor Rowley said, and Priscilla could not help but smile.

  It was foolish at best for them to be enamored with each other, yet who could choose when such things struck? Priscilla regarded him with a smile as she leaned into him. She peered up at him. “You have a wonderful laugh, George. You should laugh more often.”

  His eyes softened as he looked at her, and there was a warmth there that made her heart sing. She pushed up onto her tiptoes and brushed her lips against his smiling mouth. Doctor Rowley pushed her away gently. “Do not do such as that where any can see,” he whispered as he looked around, but they were alone.

  He tugged her behind one of the large oaks and then pulled her to him, his hands on her shoulders. She went into his embrace and sighed at the feeling of his arms sliding around her shoulders, holding her firm to him. “I do not mean to scold,” he whispered. “I fear so much that you shall suffer some horrible fate and it will be my fault.”

  She tipped her head back so she could peer up at him. “I am a woman to my own mind, Doctor Rowley. I assure you if I find ruin, it will be at my own hands.”

  “I do not wish you to be ruined at all,” he told her fervently. “I wish I could protect you from all harm.”

  Priscilla smiled at him. “How could any harm come to me in your arms? I feel the safest that I have ever felt right here.”

  “Do not say such as that,” Doctor Rowley whispered, his voice pleading. “I should not hold you at all. I should be reprimanded, flogged.”

  Priscilla laughed and shook her head at him. “I shall severely punish any who try to flog you.”

  “You jest, but the perils are very real,” Doctor Rowley reminded her.

  She nodded. Society loved a good rumor, whether true or not. She had seen plenty of reputations ruined over gossip alone. “I do not care much for society or its gossip. I only care that my family might be harmed in some way.”

  Doctor Rowley bent over and placed a kiss on her forehead. It was such a sweet, gentle gesture that she melted inside from it. How could she not fall for such a man? His very touch seemed to heal.

  He pulled back and said, “Forgive me for my weakness.”

  “You ask forgiveness where none is needed. Why do you continually do that?” Priscilla tugged at his coat as if to compel him to answer.

  A smile tugged at one corner of his mouth. “I am your doctor. Patients often develop affection for their physicians…and here I am taking advantage of that.”

  “My dear Doctor Rowley, I do think that I kissed you earlier,” she said as she tapped the front of his jacket. The deep blue color offset the lighter colored vest and shirt underneath. “Do not hold all the blame onto yourself. I told you that I make my own decisions.”

  He nodded. “So I heard, but it does not stop me from wanting to protect you.”

  “I suppose I shall have to concede that point,” Priscilla said generously, which caused Doctor Rowley even more amusement.

  He put his arms around her waist and Priscilla felt her pulse beating against her ears as her body responded to him long before his mouth found hers. The kiss was soft, lingering. His lips upon hers felt dry, but she did not mind one bit.

  She kissed him back with all of the feelings within her. She had to make him see that she was not just some enamored patient who had mistaken gratitude for love. There was nothing held back when they finally parted.

  He smiled at her. “Perhaps we should finish our walk before someone comes to find us.”

  “You are a wise man,” she said with a nod of her head. “Mind you,” she said as they stepped back onto the path, “I do not always like your wisdom.”

  Doctor Rowley chuckled as he took a look around before he held out his hand to her. “I shall take that under consideration.” They walked for some time more when he started laughing again, unprompted.

  Priscilla eyed the man in amusement. “What has struck you with such humor?”

  “I was just thinking about your earlier question to do with my cousin,” he said, which really did not explain anything in Priscilla’s mind.

  She frowned. “And that is funny, how?”

  “Because you were jealous,” Doctor Rowley said with a shrug.

  Priscilla gasped. “I was certainly not jealous.”

  “Oh, but you were,” Doctor Rowley teased as they walked down a hedgerow lined with roses.

  She sighed. “If it does you good to think so, then so be it.”

  “So you really were not jealous at all then?” Doctor Rowley raised an eyebrow as his eyes cut over to her.

  Priscilla wondered yet again just how much of her thoughts she must be giving away. She admitted at length, “I was perhaps a bit curious.”

  “Ah, is that what you were?” He gave her a smile. “So, why did you wait so long to ask then?”

  She huffed. “I told you that it slipped my mind.”

  He grinned an infuriatingly handsome grin. Priscilla made up her mind to not speak to him for the rest of the walk. She turned her head away and pointedly ignored him.

  They fell into a companionable silence, and Priscilla eventually gave up ignoring the man. Perhaps what he said was true, after all. She would not admit it, of course, but she had felt a certain small amount of jealousy.

  ***

  George sat across from Miss Morton a day later in the library. The woman wrung her hands anxiously. “I had the most peculiar dreams of falling. I never saw what happened before or after, Doctor Rowley. I just fell.” She shook her head. “Perhaps you are right and I need to take the recovery of my memories seriously. If I am to start having nightmares again, I do not know if I can live with that.”

  He saw the haunted look in her eyes. “Dreams are indeed where our brain works through things.” George frowned. “We could try some relaxation techniques that I saw an apothecary use once. They may help you to slip into a relaxed enough state that we can regain some of your memories.”

  “Whatever it is that you need to do then I agree,” Miss Morton said fervently without hearing what George actually would have to do.

  George smiled. “I shall have to touch your shoulders and your wrists. Apparently, according to certain philosophies, pushing on specific points causes reactions in the mind and body.”

  He waited for her nod, and when she assented he rose from his seat and came to stand behind her. He put his hands on her shoulders, pressing firmly into the joint and rolling her shoulders backward.

  George tried to think in terms of this being just another clinical experiment, but that was hard to do as he slid his hands down to her wrists where he applied pressure again. Her bare skin under his fingertips was a heady sensation.

  When
Miss Morton looked up at him, her stormy eyes washed over him and her mouth parted slightly as she sucked in a breath. He let her hands go as if stung. His pulse was too quick, his mind not clear enough to see reason.

  George shook his head. His tongue felt thick in his mouth. “I do not think it is working.”

  She might have been going to protest, perhaps she had been. However, her lips closed and she looked at him with a pleading expression. “Doctor Rowley,” she breathed out his name.

  George wanted to say something, anything. Instead, he sank into a chair across from her. “I want to help with your dream. I want to help you, but I question now if I can.”

  “Do not say that,” Miss Morton said as she leaned forward. Her blue eyes held his gaze. “Please do not say such things. I fear you shall abandon me.”

  George shook his head. “Never. I would never do that to you, but I do fear that this thing between us might prevent you from recovering.”

  “One disappointing session does not mean that you cannot help me,” Miss Morton assured him. “You helped me plenty by just talking me through the memories. Perhaps we should do that instead.”

  George had to admit that she had a point. Perhaps anything that did not involve touching would yield better results. “I suppose that we could try that again, yes.”

  She smiled at him, seeming to relax now that he was not suggesting she get another doctor. Miss Morton agreed with a nod. “It could not hurt, surely. Would you like to try now?”

  George drew in a breath. Perhaps a nice calming walk through the day of her accident would do much to cool both her and his anxieties. “Very well, I have walked you through this before… but do you remember speaking to Gwen that day?

  She nodded and he led her through that day as best as he could. Although it did not prove as successful as he had hoped the relaxation technique would be, she did seem calmer by the end of the session. Miss Morton gave him a smile as he sighed in defeat.

  “Do not sigh. I did recall some more of my father’s conversation with me. That surely has to bring us a bit closer. I just wish that if my memory were going to surface that it would do so. Why must it torment me?” Miss Morton shook her head. “The longer it takes to come to light, the more I worry about what I shall find.”

  George could understand that. He stood up and came over to her. He was hesitant to touch her again lest he ignited whatever this fire was between them, but he put his hand over hers anyway as it lay on the chair arm. “Whatever you remember, I shall help you through it. I promise you that, Miss Morton.”

  “Thank you,” she whispered back to him.

  They sat there for a few moments as if frozen. George summoned the courage to stand up, but before he could act Miss Morton slid to the edge of her chair. She pushed close to him, and it left him no choice as a man whose heart beat strongly within his chest.

  “Miss Morton,” he whispered into her hair as she snuggled into him. “Please, do not test my will. You might find it lacking.”

  She lifted her head to stare at him. “Perhaps I want it to be lacking,” she said, her voice a challenge.

  George reacted the only way any sane man would have done. He kissed her. He kissed her so deeply that he was certain that he heard her whimper.

  He did not relent. He gave her no quarter. Was it his imagination, or could he feel her heart beating through the bodice of her dress? George broke the kiss and sucked in a ragged breath.

  Her abused lips parted to drag in a breath as she stared at him with wide eyes. He shook himself out of his reverie. This was neither the time nor the place for such things.

  George disentangled himself from her and stood up. “Doctor Rowley,” she whispered.

  He held up his hand. “I am sorry. We cannot do this. Not here, not now.”

  “Then when? Then where?” Miss Morton’s hand went to her bosom. “I feel as if I might die if you do not kiss me.”

  George hissed, “Do not say such things. Someone might hear.”

  “Let them,” she said with a shake of her head. “I would rather die disinherited than without this.” She gestured between them.

  George assured her, “You do not know what you say. It is hysteria.”

  “No, it is love.” Miss Morton looked him in the eye and George found he could not look away from her sea-blue gaze. “Look at me and tell me that you do not feel any measure of love for me. Tell me, Doctor Rowley, and I swear that I shall ask my father for a new physician before the sun rises tomorrow.”

  George felt the panic rise up in him. He had admitted his affection for her. He had admitted it and yet his tongue felt so thick and dull in his head.

  “Of course I adore you,” George said at last.

  She shook her head. “Love, Doctor Rowley.”

  “I love you,” George said as he held her gaze. He shook his head. “I have turned into a madman.”

  Miss Morton ventured, “Are not all those in love mad to some extent?”

  George could not answer that. He had never been in love. Was this what it truly felt like? It felt nothing like the warmth for family, nothing like the affection for his patients.

  “I know that I am quite mad,” Miss Morton went on to say. “Quite mad because I feel the same for you.”

  George shook his head at her. “Then I wish for us to find peace. I do not know that this will end well.”

  “You are a nobleman’s son. You are a kind man. What father would not want that for his daughter?” Miss Morton’s words were coaxing, temptingly truthful at the core… yet…

  George sighed. “That might well be, but what father would choose a simple, poor doctor over a duke for his daughter?”

  Miss Morton lowered her head. “We must not lose faith.”

  “My father said something similar to me years ago,” George said with a slight smile. “I suppose I owe it to him to keep a bit of faith in me.”

  Miss Morton’s eyes met his and she smiled. “I would like to meet your father one day to thank him then.”

  George pondered what such a meeting would truly be like, and he had to shake his head at the thought of it and smile. “Maybe.”

  Chapter 11

  A few days later, Priscilla could not sleep so she went for a walk. As she walked and breathed in the night air she frowned. She swore she heard voices, but that was not possible. Everyone was asleep, surely.

  She eased closer, the voices becoming clear as she carefully eased up to the hedgerow. Priscilla peered through the branches and spied Bridgitte, who had recently returned from her visit, with her hands folded firmly across her chest. Her expression was set into a worried frown.

  “Come now, do you really think I would be so foolish?” Priscilla knew that voice. Her eyes found the speaker and sure enough, it was Philip. What was he doing here? Why was he talking to Bridgitte?

  Bridgitte hissed, “I was a fool to agree to your plan to begin with.” Plan? Priscilla’s brow knotted in confusion. What was going on?

  Philip did not seem impressed by Bridgitte’s anger. “It will all work out.”

  “Not if Priscilla ruins things. If she remembers…” Bridgitte’s voice trailed off as she shook her head.

  Philip waved his hand. “And I assure you that if she were going to remember she would have by now. My doctor practically said so.”