Chapter 2
Chapter Two
As he rode with the mysterious woman nestled in his arms, Alexander thought hard.
Never had he found himself in a more frustrating situation.
That she didn’t recall her name or identity meant that he could not return her to her family.
He would have to keep her at Audley for now, because what else could he do?
He could not abandon her or force a memory out of her…
Who could she be, apart from the most fascinating beauty he had ever seen?
He cleared his throat. This attraction he felt for her only added to his unease.
It felt wrong, but with her pressed so tight against him, it was all he could think about.
But perhaps it was not surprising, considering that she had uttered barely more than one sentence since the moment she had opened her eyes.
Because of this lack of exchange, all he had to form an opinion of her was her appearance.
And the appeal she exerted on him was undeniable.
It was hard to understand why that might be.
Perhaps because, though on the surface she was like many young women he had seen, she was somehow…
more. Her eyes were greener and wider, her hair shinier.
Her mouth… Her mouth was a work of art that put all sorts of lewd thoughts in his head.
He tightened his hold around her, feeling very protective, and no wonder.
He had just saved her from two men intent on raping her.
She could not recall who she was. Why was that?
Had she been hit during the assault? Was the blow or the shock of the attack responsible for the loss of memory?
And how would he find out who she was and where to take her if she didn’t remember her identity?
Presumably, there were people waiting for her, people who would be worried by her disappearance and needed reassurance.
Was she married?
He clenched his jaw. She could well be. She was certainly old and appealing enough to have attracted a man’s notice.
She had attracted his, though he’d decided long ago that he would never marry and always made a point of remaining detached in his dealings with women, precisely for that reason.
He could not afford to like any of his conquests too much.
Sexual attraction was one thing, after all, he was a man with needs.
He would satisfy them with willing partners who could not be compromised.
But spending more than a few nights in their beds was dangerous, as it might lead to him developing unfortunate feelings.
As he jumped to the ground, Alexander brought his mind back to his current predicament.
Now was not the time to remind himself why he had decided that marriage was not the path for him.
He should focus on the woman sitting on his horse, waiting for him to gather up his clothes from where he had dropped them before his bath.
What clues did he have to find out who she might be?
The fact that she’d had a prize horse with her and the quality of her dress indicated she was not a farmer’s daughter.
Her hands were soft, her skin white, her ears adorned with delicate gold earrings.
This was a woman of some means, it was obvious.
Yet he had never seen her before. Was she visiting one of the local lords? But if that was the case, where was her escort? She had been alone to face the men, and he had seen no trace of anyone in the meadow.
Alexander buckled his scabbard around his waist and stuffed the rest of his clothes into a saddle bag, then climbed back on behind her and headed straight for Audley Castle.
“Where are you taking me?” she asked, her voice betraying more excitement than fear.
Why was that? Surely a woman who had just been assaulted should worry about the intentions of a man she didn’t know, even if he had saved her?
Surely someone who did not remember where she lived should fret about the people waiting for her there?
And yet she seemed as giddy as someone going on an adventure.
“I’m taking you to my home, just a few miles from here,” he informed her, wondering if she would agree. “Because I have no idea where else to take you. Is there anything you remember that could help us find out who you are?”
She seemed to think for a while. “I had decided to go to Scotland. I do remember that.”
Alexander arched a brow. She had been alone, intent on going all the way to Scotland?
“Where are your companions then? Do not tell me that you set off for such a distant destination alone?”
She gave a giggle. Really, she was undaunted by what had happened to her. He wasn’t sure if that was proof of uncommon strength of spirit—or of an altered brain. Had she lost all sense of reality along with her memory? It was not impossible.
“I had not set off today. But I had decided that was what I would do next, is what I mean. Why or who would accompany me, I do not recall.”
He stayed silent a moment. Did he know any Scottish people around here, who could be related to her? No. Besides, she spoke without the least trace of accent. He didn’t think she would be Scottish herself.
“I’m not sure what to call you,” he said after a while.
“You’ll just have to choose a name for me, then.”
Yes, perhaps it would be best. But what?
“You were lying in a patch of buttercups when I found you, and your hair matches their shine, so I suppose I could call you Buttercup,” he said eventually.
Gwenllian smiled to herself. Really, she was having a wonderful time, riding on a beautiful day, cradled in a strong man’s arms. And he had just told her he would call her Buttercup because her hair was shiny. To hide her pleasure at this choice of name, she attempted a jest.
“’Tis lucky I did not land in a muddy puddle, I guess. I dread to think what you would have called me then.”
Instead of laughing, Sir Alexander growled. He didn’t seem half as relaxed as she was.
“You should not have landed anywhere, that is precisely the problem. Who were those men? Why were you alone with them? Do you truly not recall anything?”
She sobered. Thrilling as her meeting with the dark knight was, there was no denying that this afternoon could have ended very badly.
“I don’t know who they were, and I doubt I know them. I remember stopping to let my horse have a drink when they— Oh, wait, my mare!” Gwenllian cried out, sitting up in alarm.
How had she not thought before that the animal was not with them?
“I’m afraid the men rode away with her,” Sir Alexander told her. “As I could not stop them and see to you at the same time, I had to let them go. But I’ll have my people look for the mare. She is of a rather distinctive gray hue, and evidently well-bred, so she should attract attention.”
Yes. The mare was beautiful, and very precious to her. And now she was gone.
Just like that, Gwenllian’s good mood evaporated.
She had almost been raped, her beloved horse had been stolen, and there would be people at Sheridan Manor worrying about her disappearance.
A twinge of guilt wrapped around her heart at the idea of her cousins wondering where she was.
What was she doing, playing games, hiding her identity, getting light-headed at the proximity of a man?
She should just tell Sir Alexander who she was and ask him to take her home.
But… But the problem was, she didn’t want to.
Nestled in his arms, she felt like she had never felt before, desired, beautiful, mysterious.
Aroused.
This man seemed to have been created to appeal to her and awaken a lusty side of her she hadn’t known she possessed. His voice, deep and rich, made her insides vibrate with longing. His mouth, full and wicked, made her want to kiss him. His hair, so thick and shiny, made her…
She blushed all the way to her toes, because she was imagining running her fingers through his hair while he feasted on her intimate parts.
Where had that shocking thought come from? Though she knew about this particular caress, she had never before imagined a man doing that to her, much less imagined herself holding him in place so he could lick her with all the urgency she was suddenly desperate for.
Yes… It would seem that her meeting with the dashing Sir Alexander had turned her into a wanton.
She was wondering what to do about that shocking development when a voice pierced through the forest.
“Help!”
“Oh, Lord, not again,” Sir Alexander groaned, steering his horse in the direction of the cry. Though he seemed put out by a second incident following her rescue so closely, he had not hesitated a moment in going to investigate.
To Gwenllian’s relief, the sight meeting their eyes a moment later was nothing as frightful as the attack on her person had been. A little girl was standing by a slope, looking down at a small pond. Her face lit up when she saw them ride into the clearing.
“My pup, Patch!” she cried, running up to them. “Please, help him. He’s fallen in the water. He can swim, just about, but he’s too small to climb the muddy banks and I fear if I go myself, I will not able to—”
“It’s all right, I’ll go,” Sir Alexander said, jumping down from the saddle. Though it was obvious he could have done without the interruption, he placed a reassuring hand on the girl’s shoulder. “What’s your name?”
“Margery, my lord.”
“Well, Margery, don’t worry. I will get your Patch back. He’s not going to bite me, is he?”
Gwenllian could tell he’d only asked the question to distract the girl from her anguish, but, far from reassuring him, Margery made a face. “I don’t think so. But he doesn’t know you so I cannot say for sure…”
“Wonderful,” Sir Alexander muttered under his breath.