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“Unless you want me to.”

The mattress shook with her silent laughter. A chuckle rumbled out of him.

“Henry, what about ‘no exertion’ don’t you understand?”

He grinned up at the ceiling. The laudanum began to work its magic and sleep stole over him—until his companion pressed her freezing feet against his calf. Without comment, he rolled onto his side and tugged her close to his chest. The widow didn’t protest. She was already asleep.

3

ARTEMISIA

Henry was a liar, Artemisia mused when she found herself trapped beneath his heavy arm. He had promised not to touch her. That vow had been made when he was under the influence of a powerful drug, while he was awake. In fairness, she supposed he hadn’t intentionally broken his word by cuddling her in his sleep.

She didn’t exactly mind.

But now she had a problem. There was a considerable lump snugged against her buttocks and it felt rather nice. It had been a long time since she had found an opportunity to discreetly take a man to bed. Her body sang with the desire to be touched. She had been afraid of how she might react if she lay next to him, and now her worries were proved to be well-founded.

It was wrong of her to take advantage of an injured man this way. She had already mistreated him once by attempting to peer at his naked body yesterday; now, she was compounding her error.

She wasn’t actually doing anything at all. It was what she wasn’t doing, that made it bad.

She should get up. She should not be lying here and enjoying the experience of being held. Artemisia therefore pretended to be asleep. If she were asleep, and this was a dream, then she couldn’t be accused of taking advantage of a man who had lost his memory, which was obviously an unforgivable offense.

A quick tap at the door made her eyes fly open.

“Yes?” she called out, kicking free of the coverlet and sliding out from Henry’s embrace. He grunted and tightened his arm as if to pull her back. She stuffed her pillow beside him as a substitute.

“Breakfast is served, madam.”

Artemisia let the maid in. The woman placed a tray of fresh-baked muffins and hard-boiled eggs on the dresser. Instead of leaving, the servant gasped and stopped in her tracks.

“He’ll want leeches for that shiner,” she said, and saw herself out.

Artemisia helped herself to a muffin before inspecting Henry, who had sprawled onto his back and starfished across the entire bed. His eye did look dreadful. Swollen and purple, almost to black. That couldn’t feel very good. She dressed quickly, and by then the maid had returned with a corked pot full of writhing black worms.

“It’s fortunate he’s still out cold from the laudanum,” the maid said, gently placing one on his brow. Artemisia gagged and fled down to the common dining area to eat the rest of her breakfast.

When she came upstairs again thirty minutes later, Henry was awake, clothed, and looking much better.

“The leeches did help,” she said, brushing his hair back to examine his eye. “The swelling has gone down significantly.”

“Revolting process,” he said affably. “Imagine waking up with a blood-sucking worm on your face.”

Artemisia shuddered. “How does your head feel?”

“Better,” he said. “The laudanum helped.”

“If you are up to it, I propose we pay a visit to the local viscount. I understand the gentleman himself is presently in London, but someone on his staff may recognize you.”

If not, they might be willing to take him in until he regained his memory. The thought of having to leave him behind in this charming seaside village caused a pang in her heart, but she needed to get to her cousin’s house.

After Henry had eaten, they set off in Artemisia’s carriage. The morning was a fine one, if a bit chilly with the breeze rolling off the ocean. A flock of white geese scattered in a flurry of feathers as they drove through the streets of Cavalier Cove.

Her passenger boldly stretched one arm across the back of the seat. She arched one brow but couldn’t conceal her smile, though she did duck her chin to try.

“Why are there so many damned geese around here?” he wondered. More of the large, noisy birds wandered the drive to Viscount Prescott’s

“Excellent question.” Artemisia was equally puzzled. “I understand this area is rife with smuggling. Perhaps the villagers use them as an alarm?”