She was relieved to see that he remained sitting on the bed while she went to fetch the ladder-back chair that was near the door and set it down beside the bed. “Here, you can sit on this for awhile.” She had no intention of ending up in his lap again!
She helped him take the few steps to sit. His sigh of relief caused her a twinge of remorse. She probably should have been urging him to get up for short periods so he wouldn’t lose his strength.
“Now…” His eyes were full of devilry, though his question was mundane. “What work?”
She must have looked confused, hovering awkwardly near the bed, because he added, “You said you had work to do.”
“Oh.” She dared not tell him about her art. She told no one about that. “Household duties, of course. Running a household in London requires far more work than in the country, I am finding.”
“But it’s evening. Surely you can stop now.” He softened his tone. “Stay. Please. I like... want your company.”
There was that captivating aspect of him surfacing again. That attractive, rakish side that was becoming ever more evident as he got better. Was this his normal character? If so, if his true self was coming back, she probably didn’t have much time before he recovered all of his memory. Would that charm curdle, like soured milk, when he found out this was all a lie?
“How am I to recover my memory if I don’t get the chance to be with those who know me best?”
Another wave of guilt swept through her. Was she impeding his recovery by allowing him to think she was his wife? She feared so.
She had to tell him! The pulse in her neck throbbed so intensely she was sure he must see it. Just the idea of revealing her lies was upsetting.
Not tonight. She cringed at her abject cowardice, but that didn’t stop her from deciding she’d wait until tomorrow to confess.
“Talk to me. I feel like I’m living in a vacuum,” he said. “You’re always so careful not to divulge anything about me and my personal life prior to...” He gestured to his head. “It makes conversation difficult.” He plunged an agitated hand into his hair, thrusting his fingers backwards through the thick thatch, giving it an unruly and harried look. “Why don’t we just talk about anything unrelated to me and my memory.”
She sat down tentatively on the edge of the rocking chair, hesitated for a few moments then began, “I read in the newspaper yesterday about a novel that came out anonymously at the beginning of the year. It’s called Frankenstein or a Modern Prometheus.”
“I read it.”
“You did?” Her voice rose sharply in surprise. She was pleased to have found something that interested him. “Oh, you remembered!”
He looked a bit bewildered at the realization. “So I did. Maybe talking about sundry news items and events will help me remember.”
“Do you remember the story?”
“Some of it. If I recall correctly, it was about a gentleman, who puts a human being together by using excavated material from graves and even abattoirs.” He grimaced. “Rather gruesome. Naturally, it takes a very wrong turn in the end.”
“It is causing a lot of talk, both for and against. What interested me was how the tone of the criticism changed, once it was claimed to be written by a woman.”
“A woman wrote that book?” He sounded surprised.
“Possibly.” She paused to gauge his reaction. “Did you think it well written?”
“I think I did.” He rubbed the back of his head where he’d hit it and winced. “I seem to recall thinking it was different but held my interest to the very end.”
“Some of the critics are discounting it, now that they think it might have been written by a woman.” She kept her tone neutral, not wanting to reveal her opinion on the matter.
A wicked grin split his face. “You believe women are underestimated? Must I expect you to be forever championing women’s rights, my dear?” He chuckled. “Did I know this about you before we wed?”
“I never thought of myself in that way but, having lived with two brothers and a father, I do believe women are just as capable as men, at least when physical strength isn’t involved. Like in the arts, for instance. We… they should be given the same chances and respect as men.” She glanced at him warily. If he disagreed, she would be sorely disappointed.
He laughed. “I do believe I have a little rebel for a spouse.” He leaned forward and wound a curl of her hair around his finger. “I like that.” He tugged on it, gently drawing her closer, nose to nose, to whisper, “Shall we be rebellious together, my darling?”
She had no need to ask what kind of rebellion he was suggesting. Her hand reached to touch his cheek and she gazed into his bright, magical eyes. She felt herself melting into a warm puddle of pure emotion. At his indrawn breath, she snatched her hand back, thinking she’d hurt him, but he captured it with his and held it there.
“I like it when you touch me.”
Hot color reddened her cheeks.
“And your blush is delightful. I can see why I was smitten.” With their joined hands, he drew her face nearer. “Ah, that’s better. Now I can look deep into your beautiful brown eyes and plumb the secrets of your soul.”
She trembled at his tenderness, but shook with fear at the threat such knowing could pose.
“You have the face of an angel.” He laughed at the grimace she made. “Not the saintly kind. This angel,” he tapped his index finger on her nose, “has an impish side.”
A frisson snaked from her tip to her toes. His words, his warmth, his touch… all enthralled her. Forcing herself to respond in the same playful way, she retorted, “Really, sir–”... at his warning look, she changed it to “Reed. That’s not very flattering, if that was what you were aiming for.”
“But it is meant as the greatest of compliments, my dear. I sense I have never appreciated ‘saintly’. I am quite certain my taste runs to a woman who has a naughty side.” He leaned forward until his forehead rested against hers. “And if it didn’t, then I can only say ‘Bravo!’ for the knock on my head that has brought me to my senses.”
Tally laughed, then, covered her mouth. She never laughed aloud. Oh my, this man made her giddy. She stared into his eyes, imagining she was seeing into his very soul. She leaned nearer, hoping he’d kiss her. But it seemed he wanted her to make the first move.
She placed her lips hesitantly against his and waited. Nothing happened. Surely there was more to kissing than this? She’d once come upon her sister, Venetia, and her husband kissing and it had looked considerably more energetic than this! And last night he had certainly made more of it when he kissed her! His kiss had almost made her swoon!
Becoming a little bolder, she moved her lips, brushing from side to side. Then, greatly daring — he said he liked naughty, after all — her tongue slipped out to coast along his lips like his had done.
Suddenly an earthquake rumbled to life around her. With a loud growl, he pulled her onto his lap, cradling her tightly against him. Locking his greedy lips onto hers, his velvet tongue flicked out to tangle with hers, to plunder her mouth like a skilled pirate. Her senses were whirling. She couldn’t think, could only react.
Trapped in his embrace, she wasn’t free to move as she wished. She pushed against his hold and slid off his lap. He muttered a protest that ended as soon as she fell to her knees on the floor between his spread legs. She leaned up high against him and wound her arms around his neck, pulling herself snug up against him. Now she was able to explore what all this kissing was about. There seemed to be an infinite variety of them and, so far, not one she didn’t like.
Expelling a relieved, “Yes, that’s it. Touch me, sweetheart.” He stroked up and down her side setting off such trembling in her lower limbs, she worried she might collapse into a molten heap on the floor. His other hand took care of that by gripping her bottom and pressing her whole body flush against his.
She didn’t resist. Even helped by pushing herself still nearer. Her head was swimming. She was dro
wning in sensation.
He slid down to join her on his knees on the floor and... suddenly, he was falling! He threw out his hands, seeking something to grab onto to save himself. She caught them in hers and stopped his tumble, preventing him from hitting his head. Again! She hated to think what a second time might have done to his recovering memory!
He righted his body and ended up sitting on the floor, looking embarrassed.
“What happened?” she asked.
“I moved too fast. Got dizzy. Nothing to worry about.”
“You need to eat something.” Tally scolded gently. “To keep up your strength.”
“Some lover I’m turning out to be.” He sounded thoroughly disgusted with himself. “That’s one way to ruin the mood.” He put a hand on the floor and pushed himself up onto his haunches. “It’s probably for the best. I’m too weak to do much and you’re still feeling awkward about me not remembering you.”
She lowered her eyes unable to hold his look.
“It’s all right. I understand,” he reassured her. “Hell, I feel awkward about not remembering you!” He held onto the bed to stand and helped her up in front of him.
Loud footsteps approached the door.
Oh my god, Foster! He’ll kill Reed if he finds us like this! She hurried to put space between.
The doorknob jiggled. She froze, unsure what to do.
Reed folded his arms across his chest. “Damn that man! He has incredibly poor timing! He does it on purpose, doesn’t he?”
She spun away from his searching gaze. Her butler was taking his time, if he planned on entering.
Don’t complain, you ninny. The delay gave her time to calm her nerves. She cast a quick look over her shoulder at her sham husband and encountered a rueful, though entirely unrepentant grin.
He backed up a step and sat on the bed, all by himself this time. He quirked an expressive eyebrow at her. “Amazing what miracles a little loving can work.”
A hot blush swept through her entire body. She averted her face, feeling horribly self-conscious.
“I rushed you, didn’t I?”
She glanced back to find him lying back against his pillows again.
“Frightened you, I suppose.” He sighed. “You have to remember that I’ve been away and it’s been a long time–” he stopped abruptly. “Am I remembering that or simply feeling that it must be so?”
How was she to respond to that? She turned back and moved toward the door. “It has been a long time.”
Like forever!
“Go my naughty angel. I can see you’re anxious to be gone.” He waggled his eyebrows at her, aping a lecherous villain in a melodrama, lightening the tension vibrating between them.
He was trying to make her feel better. He really was a nice man.
“We’ll have plenty of time to continue what we just started.”
He closed his eyes before he could see her startled reaction. He hadn’t meant it as a threat, she knew, but… She peered across the room at him. Poor man. He was exhausted.
Naughty angel, indeed. What kind of angel would encourage an ailing man to expend what little strength he had, on ... on ... kissing?
“Now, I know why I married you,” he murmured drowsily, just as Foster entered the room.
She hoped her old friend hadn’t heard. His hearing was no longer as acute as it used to be, but he had an awful habit of hearing very well just what she most wanted him not to hear.
“Good,” she said to Foster. “You’ve brought him some food. He’s weak from hunger. He needs to eat something.”
Foster glanced at the bed where Reed appeared to have fallen asleep. He raised his eyebrows.
“It’s just a cold collation, isn’t it?” At his nod, she pointed to the table by his bed. “Then leave it there for him to take when he wakes up.”
Leaving Foster to take care of their “guest,” Tally left the room.
She was worried. This man, she found so compelling, so likable, might be a dangerous killer.
How he was going to react when he discovered the bullet wound on his shoulder? He claimed to like naughty, but how was he going to feel about devious and dishonest?
Chapter Ten
After Talia left him, Reed’s mind wandered. Even though he’d not taken the laudanum-laced milk, he still felt incredibly lethargic. He knew it would take days, maybe longer, before the drug worked its way out of his body and that was only if he was being given that one dose a day. Half asleep, he dreamed of how he was going to accomplish the closeness he ached for with his lovely wife. It felt good to know that soon he would be able to focus, to feel more like himself again.
Whoever that was!
How could he feel like himself, when he had no idea who he really was?
It seemed only a short time later that someone entered his room. His first instinct was to rise and defend himself, but his brain roused enough to realize it was his wife. Her sweet lavender scent reached him first. Did she come in to check on him every night while he slept? He found the idea rather comforting, but was surprised he’d never awakened to her presence until tonight. He was normally a light sleeper.
Yet another memory to put on his list tomorrow. Right now he was just too sleepy.
Through the muzziness of incipient sleep, he heard her come confidently toward the bed, unafraid of waking him. She must be very sure his night potion had put him in a deep sleep. Did the physician tell her to continue giving him the medicine or was that her own initiative? What if he was being given more than one dose a day? That would explain how sluggish he still felt, even minus tonight’s drink. Hell! Was he going to have to stop eating to ensure he wasn’t drugged?
He opened his eyes a slit, allowing his lashes to conceal the fact. She picked up the empty cup, looked into it and nodded. Thankfully, after Foster left his room, Reed had remembered to throw the milk out the window.
When she approached the bed, he shut his eyes quickly. She must really want him to get better, if she was bothering to verify he’d taken it. He wished he could be sure it was for the same reasons any loving wife would but, once stirred, his suspicious nature was unlikely to settle down until it had been satisfied. And his instincts were telling him something wasn’t as it should be.
She leaned over him and began unbuttoning his nightshirt. He was so startled that, instinctively, he almost squirmed away from her. This was the woman who could barely bring herself to touch him during the day! What did she plan on doing to him tonight?
Just thinking about the possibilities had every part of him alert and rising to the occasion. Groaning inwardly, he shifted, slowly — still feigning sleep — moving his leg to conceal his budding arousal. If not, he feared she couldn’t fail to miss the clear signal he was no longer asleep. He wanted to know what she was up to before revealing he was wide awake and eager.
The inane notion that she might be sleep-walking flashed through his mind, but he quickly discarded it. Her movements were too definite. He watched her from between lowered lashes. Was this a nightly routine? Perhaps she was unable to show her affection by daylight, but let her passion loose at night?
At the stimulating image of her having her way with him while he slept, his heart began to pound so hard he was afraid she’d hear it. He was damned if he’d be able to fake sleep through it all, but if that was what it took for her to come to him, then he’d do his best. He supposed he could live with that kind of loving. For now. But he promised himself that, once he was back to himself, he’d take great pleasure in teaching her the joy of daytime delight. Now, though, he was curious to see how she planned on going about it.
She folded his shirt back, away from his body. Her hand ran smoothly over his skin from shoulder to belly button, as if she couldn’t stop herself from touching him.
Again! he begged silently.
She pulled her hand back quickly, like someone who’d pricked her finger on a thorn. Damn! Had she sensed his wordless plea and been frightened off by the force of i
t?
He concentrated hard to keep his muscles from tightening up and revealing his awakened state. Not easy to do. It was a struggle not to pull her tempting curves down on top of him, against his eager arousal.
Hell, how was he to hide his ever burgeoning interest? When she turned her head away to reach for something, he slid his leg higher to create a tent-like cover for his attentive appendage.
She stiffened and ceased all motion for a few moments. He couldn’t even hear her breath.
As for his breathing, it was hard to continue doing it and still appear to be sleeping. In ... out. In ... out. Slight snore. In... out.
She expelled an audible sigh of relief.
Good. Then he almost flinched, when she unceremoniously began unwinding a bandage from around his upper arm.
What the hell? A bandage? He’d sustained another injury? How come he hadn’t known about it?
Not that the heavy haze of laudanum clouding his brain, and hovering there even now, allowed him to be aware of anything much about himself or what was around him. Nor had he’d made an inventory of his body since awakening from unconsciousness.
He held himself still, with difficulty. Her soft touch excited and aroused. And he was discovering that, in spite the laudanum, he was ticklish. He had to bite his tongue against squirming and shouting with unrestrained laughter. It reminded him of being in church as a child. The more you knew you shouldn’t laugh aloud, the harder it was to contain it. The remnants of the drug in his system dulled his senses a little, helping him in his efforts, but the urge to give way to hilarity was hard to control.
He forced his foggy mind to focus on other thoughts to distract himself.
Dr. Graham hadn’t mentioned another wound that first night... neither had his wife. And there was nothing wrong with his memory since he’d wakened without a name.
Aargh! That was cold!
He held his breath, sure he’d given himself away. How had she missed him almost jumping out of his skin?
She made quick work of applying the icy salve, followed by a new bandage. Her motions were practiced. This wasn’t the first time she was doing this.
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