Chapter 2
Liam Brown folded his last shirt into the suitcase, eager to return home to Middlemarch. He’d enjoyed Scotland, but he missed the farm—the cattle, sheep, and dogs that depended on him. Most of all, he missed Emily’s cheese scones and the familiar routine that anchored his days.
He had picked up thank-you gifts for Saber and London: a Mitchell tartan tie and a Drummond scarf. They’d been amazing when he’d arrived in Middlemarch with no references and a family who’d disowned him.
A bang on the door jerked his head upward.
“Scott, did you forget your key again?” Liam approached the door, reaching for the handle.
The door exploded inward, slamming into his shoulder and hurling him backward. His skull cracked against the wooden dresser with a sickening, branchlike snap. Pain bloomed outward in nauseating waves, and darkness rushed in at the edges of his vision.
Before he could even process what was happening, a dark-clothed figure loomed over him, their face obscured by a mask. A chemical tang hit him an instant before a cloth pressed against his nose and mouth, stealing his breath.
Liam lashed out instinctively, landing a weak punch as he kicked, twisted, and fought, his muscles screaming in protest while his attacker held fast.
“Get off me!” He tried to wrench free.
The chemical stink overwhelmed him—sharp, cloying, and wrong—burning his lungs with each breath. He turned his head, desperate for clean air, but the cloth followed. Panic surged. His arms flailed, and his movements slowed.
Liam gasped. The fumes seared his nostrils. His vision tunneled, narrowing to a pinpoint of light.
His body went slack. The world tilted, then everything went dark.
Minutes earlier…
Sienna pressed against the corridor wall, heart hammering as she listened to footsteps fade down the stairs. The crude mask itched her face, but she couldn’t risk being recognized.
She’d watched Scott and Liam return from the Great Hall and noted which room they’d entered.
Now, staring down at his unconscious form, reality crashed over her. She’d done it. She’d knocked out a stranger and drugged him.
But there was no time for second thoughts. Her family’s survival depended on this working, and she was so far past the point of no return.
Through the rough fabric of her mask, she studied his face—the pronounced scar cutting across his cheek, the dark hair falling across his forehead.
Her blood turned to ice.
This wasn’t Scott.
The carefully constructed plan, the desperate gamble she’d risked everything on, had failed. She’d grabbed the wrong man. Every calculation, every rationalization crumbled. Scott was the one she’d researched, the one who’d seemed approachable. Liam was just there.
But his chest rose and fell steadily, and voices echoed from the corridor outside. It was too late to fix this. Too late for anything but moving forward.
She crouched beside him and worked her arms under his shoulders, hauling him into a fireman’s carry the way her father had taught her. Her legs shook under his bulk of solid muscle and dead weight.
The corridor stretched endlessly ahead. Each step sent fire through her thighs, and sweat slicked her spine. She’d mapped out her route earlier: down the servants’ stairs, through the kitchens during the shift change, and out the delivery entrance where she’d left her hire car.
Her luck held. The kitchen staff was busy with dinner service, and the delivery area was empty. She bundled Liam into the trunk, her hands quivering as she slammed it shut.
With Liam safely concealed, she jogged to his room and grabbed the suitcase he’d partially packed. She tossed in his toiletry bag, an attempt to make everyone believe he’d found a mate and left.
Job done, she sneaked down the passage and out of the castle. Fortune was with her, and she didn’t pass a single person.
Despite ending up with the wrong man, everything else had fallen into place. Besides, perhaps it was best she’d abducted Liam. His scars suggested he’d faced challenges with judgment and acceptance. He might understand their situation better than most.
Sienna settled in the vehicle, and only then did she allow herself a moment to let the tension drain from her shoulders.
Liam’s eyes fluttered open to a blurry ceiling and the taste of copper in his mouth. His head thumped in a relentless bang, bang, bang, and when he struggled to sit up, nausea rolled through him in waves.
“Liam?”
A woman leaned over him. She had brown eyes and a faint splash of freckles across her nose. Something about her tugged at his memory, but everything inside him felt out of sync and disconnected.
“Water?” She helped him sit and guided a glass to his lips.
“What happened to me?” he asked, his words a hoarse whisper.
“You tripped. Outside, on the gravel. Four days ago.” Her words came too quickly. Almost rehearsed.
Four days? How long had he been out? His throat burned, his muscles protested, and his sense of time had vanished completely. Had she looked after him? He remembered nothing but brief flashes. The pressure against his lips, the feel of motion. Maybe a car? Everything else was a black hole.
He blinked at her, his head throbbing a furious retort. “Tripped?”
Her words scraped across his mind, gritty and jarring. The story felt thin, like a hastily constructed lie.
“Who are you?”
She hesitated a beat too long. “Sienna. We’re…mates.”
This answer rang hollow to his ears.
He scanned the plain room with its wooden walls and the tiny single window, felt the lumps in the thin mattress beneath him.
Not familiar. He reached for his feline, the deep, powerful hum of his inner animal that always anchored him.
Nothing. A whisper of presence, dulled and barely accessible beneath the pain.
The absence was terrifying. He’d never felt so disconnected, so profoundly human in his weakness.
His voice cracked. “Where am I?”
“Cornwall. My parents’ cottage in Stoneford.”
Cornwall? Adrenaline zapped through his veins, immediately quashed by an icy wave. “You said I tripped. Where exactly?”
“Outside, near the water barrel.” She pressed her lips together. “You were out cold. I panicked and brought you here to recover.”
But something in her tone didn’t match her words. Too careful. Too rehearsed.
“You live here?”
“Yes, I told you. It’s my family’s cottage in Stoneford. You needed quiet.”
The silence stretched between them. She fidgeted, brushing invisible lint from her jeans, then tried to smile. It didn’t quite reach her eyes.
“I should check your bandage,” she said, moving closer.
He jerked away. “Don’t.”
She stilled. Hurt flashed in her expression. Or was it guilt? Maybe both.
“I’ll give you space,” she murmured, stepping back. “But you need to eat.”
He didn’t answer, and she left the room.
Liam lay there, mind spinning. Cornwall. He had many questions. And no forthcoming answers.
Sienna leaned against the closed door, breathing hard. Damn it. Things hadn’t unfolded as planned.
Liam instead of Scott.
Her stomach churned. He didn’t remember the gathering. The head trauma or the drugs—something had wiped his memory clean. What had she been thinking? That he’d wake and agree to her plan?
“Sienna?” her mother called from the kitchen. “Is he awake?”
“Yeah.”
Her mother wiped her hands on a tea towel and approached, eyes narrowed. “How bad?”
“He doesn’t remember me. Or anything else, apparently.”
“Amnesia isn’t uncommon after head trauma.”
Sienna gulped as her lies threatened to bury her.
Doubt flickered on her mother’s expression. “You haven’t been together long enough for trust to build between you.”
Sienna’s throat tightened. Trust was precisely what she’d betrayed.
The cabin must be small, since Liam could hear two women talking.
“He’s lost so much weight. He can’t afford to lose more,” Sienna said.
“Short of taking him to the hospital, we can’t do much more. None of the neighbors will help. Let’s try some soup again. I know it doesn’t have much flavor, but he needs liquids.”
“Yes, Mama. I’ll heat it now.”
A spoon clinked, and Liam’s tension faded. Why did he hurt everywhere? His muscles throbbed with stiffness, as if he’d lain motionless for hours.
“Oh, Sienna,” a voice whispered. “Nothing goes right for us. Your papa. Your brothers and now your mate. Maybe we’re cursed after all.”
The voice held a deep sorrow that tugged at his emotions, and Liam ached to offer comfort. Perhaps his initial fear was unwarranted, since both women sounded concerned about his condition.
Footsteps returned, and with them, the faint scent of meat.
“Don’t think like that, Mama. We’ve done nothing to deserve this run of bad luck. Things will improve. You’ll see.”
Another woman appeared—older with brown eyes like Sienna’s and long black hair confined in a braid. “I’m Tamsin, Sienna’s mama.” Her cool hand smoothed his forehead with surprising gentleness. “At least your temperature has dropped.”
She smelled of smoke and strong soap, her underlying feline essence comforting despite his confusion. The caring touch relaxed muscles he hadn’t realized were tense.
“Mama, can you help Liam sit up?”
“Feeling any better?” Tamsin asked.
He shrugged, the faint movement painful enough to make him wince. “I feel like I fell off a cliff.”
Tamsin patted his hand. “It could’ve been worse. At least you didn’t break a leg or arm.”
Liam glanced at Sienna. “Did I topple over a rock face? I ache all over.”
“No,” she said. “Just the knock to your head.”
“Are you hungry?” Tamsin asked. “We have a nice hot broth for you.”
“I’d prefer a steak.” His voice sounded like an old, creaky door seldom used, making him wonder what had occurred. He tried to remember, but his head rebelled.
Sienna snorted, but the long silence after had him seeking their expressions.
He prodded at the past, yet nothing but white noise filled the space. Thinking hurt his head, so he allowed Tamsin to help him sit and place a lumpy pillow behind his back.
Once upright, he felt like he’d run five hundred meters at a full sprint.
“What happened? Was I in an accident?” he asked in a hoarse whisper. This was more than a mere trip.
“Stop fretting,” Sienna said. “It’s important to eat and rest.”
“But I don’t remember—”
“You hit your head.” She bit her lip, hesitating at his bedside. “We were mucking around, and you tripped.”
“On what?” Did that cause his epic hangover? This woman was his mate, right? But why did her voice catch when she said tripped? And why did she avoid his gaze?
When he’d eavesdropped on their conversation, Tamsin and Sienna had sounded worried, but he didn’t recognize them. Why didn’t they seem familiar? He’d struck his head, but would a skull knock blank his mind?
Liam didn’t know. But this went beyond ordinary weakness—the pain was unlike anything he’d experienced.
Normally, his feline form would have kicked in by now, its rapid healing magic already knitting bone and flesh.
But there was nothing. His cat wasn’t responding.
The truth, cold and sharp, swirled in his mind, tightening the vise around his head.
Cautiously, he prodded the most tender spot and winced, a raw gasp torn from his throat from the stabbing spike.
“Eat your soup while it’s hot,” Sienna said, but she watched him closely. Not concern, but calculation? “I want my mate to eat, rest, and, more importantly, recover as fast as possible. Can you hold the bowl on your own, or would you like me to feed you?”
“I can do it.” His limbs refused to cooperate, shaking so hard the soup sloshed over the bowl’s edge.
“Accept her help,” Tamsin said. “That’s what mates do.”
Mates. He shook his head but stopped when burning seared his brain. Something felt off, but Tamsin was right—he had to eat.
Sienna dipped the spoon into the soup, held it to his mouth, and waited patiently for him to open.
Liam wanted to scowl, but he needed help. He swallowed the soup. It was thin but flavorful, and he didn’t take long to polish off the bowl.
“Let me get you more tablets. Given how you keep grimacing, it’s obvious your head is giving you trouble,” Sienna said.
“Yes. I can’t remember—”
“Don’t worry. It’s more important for you to rest and recover your strength.”
“I need the bathroom.”
“Of course. Let me help you up.” Sienna slipped an arm around his waist as he swayed. Outside, she led him to a small wooden structure. An outhouse. He stared at the privy, something nagging at the back of his mind, but the thought slipped away before he could grasp it.
His eyes squeezed shut against the sudden brightness. He should remember, shouldn’t he? Without warning, his stomach roiled, and he lurched toward the door. Tamsin, quick as a flash, opened it, but he barely made it inside before he vomited.
“Easy there,” Sienna said, her voice surprisingly gentle, considering the brusque way she’d spoken earlier.
“Who are you?” he asked, the question raw. She couldn’t be his mate. Every instinct screamed it, despite his confusion.
“You don’t remember?”
There was a strange note in her voice—shock? Worry? Or caution? He couldn’t trust his instincts, which insisted he run, yet offered no reason why. His feline was silent, his usual anchor to reality severed. This wasn’t a physical weakness. It was a deeper, more insidious drain.
“Now, I’m truly worried,” she said. “I wish we had the money to call a doctor, but they charge so much for house calls.”
Truth, he decided, logic breaking through the haze.
“Liam, we haven’t known each other long.” She met his gaze, her brown eyes full of anxiety. “We were still learning about each other.”
“You have an accent.”
“So do you,” she fired back.
“Where am I from?” Because try as he might, he couldn’t imagine a place he called home.
“Filling in the gaps isn’t a good idea. But…Australia.”
Why? He needed information, but the jut of her chin told him nothing more was coming. He wiped his mouth. “I’ll be okay now.”
He shuffled farther into the dimly lit outhouse and shut the door, his mind a tempest of questions. His fingers trembled, but he managed. At least the place didn’t smell too bad. He’d been in some outhouses…
The thought petered out before he could finish it, and a frustrated groan escaped him.
“Are you okay in there?” Sienna sounded worried again.
Liam didn’t know what to think when every instinct screamed danger. If he was in trouble, he couldn’t see it. The women were trying to help.
“Liam?”
“I’m fine,” he said, trying to rein in his testiness. “Give me a minute.” He straightened his clothes and exited. “Where do I wash my hands?”
“Over here.” She rushed to his side, and he was glad of her steady support.
She directed him to a barrel with a scoop attached to the side, where he washed his hands.
Liam scanned the area as they returned inside. The cottage was small and well-kept, with bright daisies flanking the door. But when he looked at Sienna, they felt like strangers, and it was scary as fuck.