She lifted her chin, meeting his eyes. “Ye heard me.”
“Ye daenae have all of yer memories back, lass. For all ye ken, there could have been a very good reason for ye to add these conditions.”
“So ye daenae think I can make decisions for meself?”
He paused. “I didnae say that.”
“Then listen to me now. If we are to remain married, we need a new contract. What the terms will be, I daenae ken. But this…” She tapped the scroll and shook her head. “It suited the people we were twelve months ago. Let’s start something new, eh?”
He stared at her, not immediately replying. She waited, letting him gather his thoughts. As she waited in the silence, a new memory unspooled.
She saw Blackberry curled up on a rug before the fire. A moment later, the cat streaked out of the room, hissing wildly, its hackles up. She was fleeing an unknown figure, while Skye slumped in her chair, unable to do a thing.
Her heart began to pound.
What am I remembering?
“Very well,” Evander said, cutting into her thoughts. The memory vanished.
But it will come back,Skye promised herself.
She smiled up at him, forcing herself back to the present. “Ye agree?”
“Aye.” He nodded, grinning.
Abruptly, he snatched up the scroll and held it over the candle flame. The fire took hold of the edge, quickly eating up the brittle, dry paper. Flames shot up the paper, and he stepped over to the hearth, dropping the scroll.
They stood side by side, watching the fire reduce the paper to ashes.
“We’ll write a new one in the morning,” she promised. “A fresh one that suits our outlook.”
Will this be a proper marriage? Or will we simply omit the no-touchingrule?
“There,” Evander said, nodding toward the hearth. “It’s done. Gone.”
Sure enough, the scroll was nothing more than a neat pile of ashes, with a half-burned end of ribbon lying nearby.
A smile crept onto Skye’s face, and she reached out tentatively to touch his arm. When her fingers brushed against his elbow, she flinched.
The dam cracked, letting water flood through. The memory came, all of it. She gasped loudly, pressing the heel of her hand against her mouth.
Nay, nay, nay. It cannae be. It cannae be.
“Skye?” Evander demanded, his voice thin with worry. “What’s wrong?”
“I remember,” she breathed, her voice shaking. “I remember who took me.”
