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she said, holding her hand out. “Just sit. There’s plenty of time for...touching later.”
He frowned. “I want to touch you now.”
She extended her hand and he gripped her slender fingers in his, a flash of lightning hitting him low and hard. “How’s that?”
“Not enough.” Never enough. How would it ever be enough? He might never have all the answers to who he was. But he had her. She was his beacon. His touchstone.
She smiled and it moved places inside of him. It hurt. As though heat was touching ice for the first time.
“Leon...”
“Why history?” he asked.
“What?” she asked, blinking.
“What made you decide to major in history?” If he couldn’t strip her naked, he would convince her to reveal herself in other ways. She was all he had. She filled his brain, his body, his soul. There was nothing else, and he wasn’t even certain he cared.
Why should he make an effort to know himself, in all his filthy, broken lack of glory, when he could know her?
“Well, I like research,” she said. “And if you research the past you can accomplish a lot of it in...silence. Reading. Exploring the basements and attics of old houses and libraries.”
“You like to be alone?”
She frowned. “I like time to think. And...questioning texts is much...safer than questioning actual people.”
He had a feeling she applied that to more than just history.
“Is that why you never said anything to me?” he asked. “About my behavior?”
She looked away from him, her pale throat contracting as she swallowed hard. “We married for the company and for the house. It never seemed...”
“That is not the only reason,” he said, his voice growing rough. “I know it wasn’t.”
He could not have been blind to his attraction to her. And his attraction wasn’t new. He was confident in that.
“It was as far as I knew,” she said, her tone stiff. “For you anyway.” She softened on that last part, and it made his chest ache.
He did not deserve her. He was certain of few things but that was one of them. “I do not think that’s the case.”
But there was something. Something that had held him back from her. Something that had kept her a virgin, and kept him away as often as possible.
Part of him wanted to know.
Most of him simply wanted things to stay as they were. Because here and now, he had her. He never wanted to let her go.
* * *
Everything went perfectly over the next few weeks. And if Rose felt a small amount of disquiet, ever present and ominous, resting in her chest, she did her best to ignore it. Leon was... He was the most caring, solicitous man she had ever known. And the sex... Well, that was much better than anything she had ever imagined she might experience. It was incredible. He was incredible. There was so much passion between them it was impossible to imagine things had ever been cold.
She felt like a newlywed. After two years.
It was a strange experience, one that made her feel like she was floating through her days. She wasn’t unhappy about it. Not in the least.
Perhaps a little bit uneasy, though.
She pushed that thought down and continued on through the halls. She was looking for Leon, who had become more mobile and was beginning to wander about the estate more. He still didn’t remember anything, but he was feeling much better, and he had taken it upon himself to relearn every inch of the grounds.
She imagined he was somewhere in the gardens.
This isn’t real. When he remembers he’s going to go back to the way he was. When he remembers, he’ll be consumed with work, with desire for women who actually know what they’re doing. Not sad virgins who have spent most of their lives cosseted away.
She gritted her teeth, ignoring that mean little voice. It was the source of her disquiet. And it was, unfortunately, far too accurate for her to deny.
“Ms. Tanner.” The housekeeper rushed to where Rose was standing, a worried look on her face. “Someone is here to see Mr. Carides.”
Rose shook her head. “That’s impossible. Leon can’t see anyone. We don’t want anyone to know about his memory.”
“It’s just... It is a woman.”
Rose’s stomach dropped into her feet. “Is it?”
As far as she knew Leon didn’t have mistresses in a traditional sense. He slept with other women, that was true, but there were none that he had a special connection with.
“A woman. A lawyer. And a baby.”
Rose didn’t even respond. Before she could think anything through she was running straight toward the front door, her heart pounding so hard she could scarcely breathe.
She was half expecting her housekeeper to have made everything up. For there to be no one standing at the door. For it to be empty, and everything to be the way that it was a few moments ago. Perfect, and beautiful, and not falling down around her.
The woman was beautiful. Blonde, tall, expertly made up. She was dressed simply, but effectively, every piece of clothing accentuating her coloring, her shape, and highlighting her beauty. The man next to her was grim-faced, clad in a sharp suit. And right in front of them was a car seat, the shade drawn over the part where the baby sat, concealing it from view.
“I am Leon Carides’s wife,” Rose said, her voice trembling. “What exactly is happening here?”
“My client has some things to discuss with Mr. Carides.” It was the lawyer who spoke, the woman beside him extremely silent and pale.
“I don’t know if you heard or not, but my husband was recently in a serious car accident. He’s still recovering.”
“Still, I imagine he will want to hear what we have to say,” the lawyer said.
“I want to hear what you have to say,” she said, her tone insistent.
“If you can get hold of him, and ask his permission to hear the details, I’m certain we can fill you in.”
“I don’t see any point in being coy about it,” the woman said, crossing her arms beneath her breasts, her expression turning determined. “I want to see Leon. I want to give him his baby.”
She had known what this was. The moment she’d heard who was at the door she’d known. But she still didn’t want to believe it. Didn’t want to believe what this woman was saying.
“I’m sorry,” Rose said, asking for clarity she didn’t truly need. “What?”
“His baby,” she said. “The child is his, and it’s time for him to take responsibility.”
* * *
By the time they were all seated in Leon’s office, Rose was in a daze. Leon did not look like he was faring much better. He could only stare blank-faced at the woman who was claiming to be the mother of his child. A child who was only four months old.
Rose bit back a cry of hysteria at the thought. Yes, she knew he had been with other women over the course of their marriage. But never, ever had she been asked to deal with the reality of it in quite such a tangible way.
The baby hadn’t made a sound since arriving—it was like a little doll, sitting in the bucket seat. A girl, with a pink blanket thrown over her sleeping figure. She had dark hair, long sooty lashes that swept across her cheeks. She was beautiful. And she was Leon’s. Leon and April’s. That was the