Intertwine (29 page)

He slid his fingers off her chin to cup her cheek, rubbing her petal soft skin with his thumb. Slowly, he turned his head toward her mouth, giving her ample opportunity to pull away. To say no to his kiss.

But he willed her to stay. Willed her to accept him.

And she did. In fact, she leaned in, moving her mouth fractionally closer to his.

They exchanged breaths for a moment, each testing the other, waiting for one of them to draw back. Neither did.

And then James moved that final inch.

Her lips were as soft as he had dreamed. Warm and full and sweet. Yielding and lush. She tasted of honey and exotic shores he had never visited.

James kept the kiss light and gentle. Letting her lead. Taking what she will.

She tentatively lifted a hand to his hair. Raked her fingers against his scalp. Possessive. She then moaned softly and melted into him. He sensed something shift within her. Felt her hand tightened against his head. Her lips parted and the kiss suddenly stopped being sweet and gentle.

And turned into something much, much more.

His kiss devastated her. Tore through to her very soul. Crumbling every defense.

Emme tried to keep it light. Soft.

But then she buried her fingers in his thick hair and something exploded within her.

Something that she had needed for far too long.

Something her heart understood. That her mind had forgotten.

Something she yearned to keep forever.

Emme had no idea how long they stayed locked together.

Long enough for her to memorize the taste of him. Long enough for her to never want to leave.

And also long enough for them both to silently realize Emme’s kissing skills were somewhat advanced for a proper young lady.

Finally, Emme drew back and rested her forehead against his, her fingers still laced around his neck.

“I meant what I said,” James whispered, his breath a puff of air against her lips. “You are a lady to me and that is all that matters.”

“Thank you,” she murmured in reply. “Though given everything that you have done, a simple ‘thank you’ seems terribly inadequate.”

She felt more than saw his answering smile. He brushed his lips over her nose and pulled back slightly.

“I have watched Arthur torture himself for years over Marianne. I have seen Georgiana lose all hope of love as her illness claims her body. Love happens so rarely, it seems. It is a shame to let it slip away because of fear.”

Emme sighed and nestled her nose against his neck, cuddling her body closer to his. James wrapped his arms around her.

“We will sort it out,” he murmured against her hair. “You will see.”

The study

Haldon Manor

The following morning

June 13, 1812

James awoke the next morning feeling optimism and hope. He had kissed Emma and they were going be together.

Period.

He would find a way, with or without her memory.

Emma was alone in the breakfast room when he arrived, not even a footman in sight. Grasping the opportunity, he snatched her around the waist, pulling her to him. Kissed her achingly in greeting, Emma every bit as soft and warm as she had been the night before. James decided then and there that he wanted each morning to begin with Emma’s kiss.

After a laughing breakfast, they had adjourned to his study to discuss things. Their things. Their future.

“We will make this work,” James said, staring at her intently, leaning back to half sit on the front of his desk, arms crossed on his chest. “I haven’t come this far to lose you now.”

“But, James, without my memory . . . ,” her voice trailed off. Emma sat in a chair opposite his desk, looking particularly lovely in teal muslin, short dark hair curling about her face. Her hazel eyes pale in the morning window light, full of concern.

“If it returns, we will deal with it. But in the meantime, we plan our future. It seems that I have waited my entire life for you. I have no intention of ever letting you out of my sight again.”

Emma smiled faintly. “You must realize there might be a lot of truth in what Lord Linwood implied. With everything that we do know about me up to this point, it’s becoming harder and harder to believe I fit neatly into some respectable box. You want us to be together, but I fear the price for you might be too high.”

“As I said last night, I have spent my life watching those around me cast off what they want most because of convention, because they fear the unknown. I will not follow in their footsteps.”

“But I feel like you are giving up everything for me. I have read enough novels to wonder if love is enough. So, James—”

“No, Emma, hear me. If we find your past is such that we cannot stay here, then we will leave. I am not afraid of starting over. We will go to America or the West Indies. It matters not to me, as long as we’re together. I have money and can leave Haldon Manor in the care of my steward with Arthur to advise him. You know Georgiana’s health is the only reason I have stayed as long as I have.” His face suddenly brightened. “Perhaps we can even take Georgiana with us. A warmer clime might improve her lungs.”

“But without my memory, . . . I don’t know if I can embark on a new life without knowing what my old one was.” Emma let out a heavy sigh. “We are at such an impasse.”

“Darling, you will not dissuade me. I will find a way. You must trust me.” James unfolded his arms and moved around the desk.

This would work. He would make it work. She had become too vital to him. Too necessary.

“Sir Henry has some contacts within the East India Company that he is forever pestering me about. He gave me the man’s direction again just last week. Now, where did I place it?”

James scanned the top of his desk. Not seeing the scrap of paper from Sir Henry, he started opening drawers, ending with the left side drawer of his desk. He shuffled through the drawer, pulling out that odd purse he kept forgetting to hand over to his gamekeeper. He placed the purse on his desktop and continued to look through the drawer, raking a hand through his hair.

“Truly, it was just here,” he muttered in frustration.

He heard voices and then a knock sounded on his study door.

“Come,” he called.

His butler entered, a hint of concern showing on his usually mask-like face. “Sir, Lord Linwood is here and has insisted upon having a word with you. I placed him in the drawing room.”

James sighed. He had expected a visit from Linwood. Just not quite this soon.

“I’m sorry, Emma dear,” he murmured. “Linwood must be dealt with. I will return shortly.”

He turned to leave and then noted her suddenly startled eyes. “Don’t worry. There is nothing Linwood can do to harm us. It will all be all right.” James smiled tightly, following his butler out of the room.

Too distracted by the upcoming confrontation with Linwood, James forgot to analyze why Emma’s eyes had looked shocked. He did not notice her panicked breathing as he left the room. Did not see her stand—shaking—and reach for the purse he had left on his desk. Did not watch her trembling fingers fumble with the complex clasp, opening it.

But when he returned over an hour later, James did notice one thing.

His study was empty.

Chapter 24

E
mme stared at the purse in her hands. Its smooth leather so impossibly familiar. Besides the locket, it was the most familiar thing she had yet seen.

Tentatively, she lifted it up, surprised at its heavy weight. The clasp was unlike anything she remembered seeing, but her fingers undid it with practiced ease. Under the clasp, there was a zipper.

Zipper. She hadn’t seen one since arriving at Haldon Manor, but her mind remembered the word.

Shaking, she unzipped the bag, sinking back into her chair. With quaking hand, she pulled the purse open and looked inside. There she saw wondrous things. Achingly familiar things. Items she hadn’t seen at Haldon Manor.

Her hand reached in and pulled out a thin rectangular object made seemingly of glass. It was about the size of a book and felt heavy and cool.

Tablet. Her mind labeled the object for her.

Emme’s breath quickened. The trembling in her hands became even more pronounced. Images skittered against her mind. Memories. Real ones. Of things before Haldon Manor. Sitting in a vehicle with a wheel in front of her. Glancing at her reflection in the mirrored surface of a car.

Car.

That’s right. There should be cars. Why were there no cars here?

She placed the tablet into her lap and reached into the purse again, her hand closing around another thin object. Smooth and glass and heavy like the last. Only smaller.

Phone.

She stared at the glossy surface of the phone, seeing her reflection in its dark surface.

Hiccupped. Shoved her hand violently over her mouth to stop the sobs that escaped. She reached into the bag and pulled out one more item.

Passport.

Hands shaking violently, she opened it. Her own face stared back.

Emry Wilde.

And then it came.

Her memory.

All of her.

She remembered. Everything. Thoughts and memories crowding her mind so quickly she felt overrun.

Dual citizenship. US and Great Britain. Her mother American, her father British. Born in 1983. She had an older brother. Marc.

Overwhelmingly, her past life crowded into her mind, pushing all other thoughts aside. She let the memories wash over her in waves, nearly drowning in everything that she had ever been.

Her childhood in Colorado, Jasmine, graduate school, her travels to places tropical and not, her little apartment in Seattle, her research, her recent trip. It all fell into place, clicking as if the memories had never left.

Whoa! The locket!

Wow!

That memory was particularly unexpected. There was no Mr. F. She was free. But her sense of relief was incredibly short-lived.

What the hell was going on?!!

Emme sat shocked for a moment. Still. What had happened?

She had been in the cottage in Marfield. There had been a thunderstorm, and she had gotten up to turn the lights back on. She had gone down to the basement, and there on the stone had been the carved initials. So like the locket.

But that was as far as she remembered. Nothing followed. Her next memory was waking to James and Georgiana.

James!

She experienced a moment of intense relief. She had no attachments. They could be together. But before happiness could flood her, she felt a sudden sinking, her stomach plummeting.

Who was James really?

What was going on? What was real? Where was she?

Getting her memory back was supposed to provide answers. Not create more questions.

She grabbed her phone and tried to power it on. Dead. Of course.

Digging through her purse, Emme pulled out the solar recharger she always carried. It was still fully charged. She plugged in her phone and then sat back, waiting.

Hearing voices in the hall, she realized she absolutely did not want to talk with anyone. Not until she had more concrete answers. Not until she had sorted through all the questions in her head.