AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“We’ve nae done a thing to ye,” Lena muttered.
Ignoring his sister who he would try to reason with later, Cameron set the mug on the table beside the bed to gain a moment to compose a response. The real question, he thought as he turned to face the compelling lass before him, was what could she do to him if he was not careful enough?
Her mind spun as she waited for the large warrior—was he a warrior?—in front of her to answer. She didn’t know him, did she? Slowly, she swept her gaze over him, hoping for recognition. Something within her seemed to register a memory of him, but it was muddled and she could not grasp it. She stared, sensing the rudeness of her actions, but she could not make herself look away. And either he could not care less for manners or he was just as confused as she was, because he matched her stare. Grass-green eyes penetrated her, making her shiver.
As she did, he frowned and, bending toward the foot of the bed, grasped what she saw was a blanket. Murmurs and grunts came from behind him as he handed it to her. Doubt about whether to accept the offer or not assailed her, but when she looked into his eyes once again, she saw kindness there. She reached out and took the blanket, as her gaze strayed to the swell of muscles in his arms. Scanning the length of his body, she could see instantly that he was honed for battle.
“Ye could present yerself,” came a man’s half-irritated, half-amused voice from behind the warrior.
She snapped her gaze to the voice’s owner. Guarded blue eyes met hers. She took in the black-haired giant of a man. His expression was intense, yet his stance relaxed. A contradiction that she felt certain was purposeful. Another shiver took her, even as the petite, blond woman beside him smiled. The warmth of the woman’s smile eased the fear a bit, yet tension still built inside her. Pulling the soft blanket around her shoulders, she glanced around the room, passing her gaze over the myriad people gaping at her.
A woman with long, russet hair and wary blue eyes stood by a man who resembled her greatly, with the same color hair that touched his shoulders; however, his green eyes were very similar to the possibly familiar warrior. A thought struck, and she quickly studied the russet-haired man and woman, the golden-haired man in front of her, and the dark-haired man. Their eyes all had the same shape. They had to be related. But the blond woman? No. She looked out of place, yet at ease—a contradiction like the dark-haired man who hovered, obviously protectively, beside her.
She pulled the blanket tighter around her with a sudden need to hide herself, yet she was fully aware she was still very much exposed. Who were they? A quick perusal of the other occupants in the room confirmed that she could not recall any of them. There was only that slight niggling of recognition for the man who had handed her a blanket. Worry twisted in her belly.
“I dunnae ken ye,” she murmured, but before anyone could answer, she added, “Do I?”
She sought the answer in her mind, but it was like a dark, black, soundless room. What was wrong with her?
“There’s something out of sorts with me,” she said, tapping the side of her throbbing head. A hundred thoughts tumbled around in her mind but not one would crystallize. A hot shaft of pain shot through her skull, and she moaned and drew her knees up to press her head against them. By all that was holy, her head felt as if it would burst like a berry that was being squashed underfoot. “What’s wrong with me?” she whispered, hearing the fear in her own voice.
A heavy hand, warm and reassuring, came to her shoulder. “A branch felled ye from yer horse.” The deep voice rumbled from above her.
Slowly, she glanced up to find the muscled warrior kneeling. “I fell?” she asked, raising her hand to her head and gasping when her fingers met a soft cloth bandage.
A crease appeared between his brows, and he glanced back at the blond woman, who gave him a quick nod. He met her gaze once more. A gentleness was there, but a guardedness, as well. “Dunnae ye ken what happened?” he asked.
She started to shake her head, but then she hissed with the pain and stilled. “I dunnae ken anything of how I was hurt.” She searched her muddled thoughts, and fright filled her as she realized she had no memories. None! Not of her fall, nor before it, nor after. “I kinnae remember!” she cried out, instinctively grasped his hand, afraid this moment, this memory she was making and the drifting one of this man, she could not quite form into a picture would disappear.
A startled look came to his face as he glanced at their intertwined hands, then back to her. For one breath, she thought he might attempt to pull away, so she curled her fingers tighter and gripped harder. “Please,” she whispered, embarrassed yet the fear overrode it. “Dunnae leave me. I dunnae ken these people. Ye are the only one who seems at all familiar.”
He flinched at her declaration, making her feel foolish, but she pressed on. “I dunnae ken what happened to me.”
Doubt flickered across his face, and tears blurred her vision. A strong desire not to cry took her, so she blinked repeatedly as he watched her.
“What do ye ken?” the russet-haired woman snapped.
Before there was time to answer, the blond woman said, “Don’t mind her.” She motioned to the woman. “Do you not recall anything?”
She met the woman’s large eyes. The vast emptiness of her memories caused a hopelessness to blossom in her chest. Knots twisted in her stomach, and her scalp tingled. “Nae a thing,” she pushed out, having to blink rapidly now to fight the tears. “Nae a thing,” she repeated, hearing the desperation in her own voice. She didn’t care. Shewasdesperate! “The only thing I ken is this man here,” she whispered in a half sob, lifting the hand that was still intertwined with the blond man’s.
When she turned her eyes to his once more she could see the astonishment on his face. “Who are you?” She asked the question as a plea for knowledge, as well as a demand that he answer and help her. When his lips parted and he simply stared at her, her frustration at not remembering spilled over. She jerked her hand from his and glared at him. “Who are ye?” Her voice pitched higher as her despair mounted. “Who are ye to me?”
She felt all eyes in the room upon them. The Scot’s eyes became veiled, as if a mist had descended to hide his feelings. “I dunnae ken ye, nae really. I met ye once—”
She exhaled on a rush, feeling as if she were reaching out and grasping an invisible rope that would keep her from disappearing into a black void.
“What?” the dark-haired man bellowed from behind them.
Irritation flickered across the blond Scot’s face. “Years ago,” he said, without turning to look at the other man. Instead, he kept his gaze steady on her, but the gaze became seeking. “Ye were dressed as a lad and bested me in a dagger-throwing competition at our annual St. John’s Eve festival.”
She stilled, waiting with hopeful expectation that the revelation would shed light on the darkness clouding her mind, but no light came. Tears pricked her eyes and tightened her throat. She bit hard on her lip to stop herself from crying. “I dunnae remember it,” she said in a shaky voice.
“What is yer name?” demanded the dark-haired warrior as he strode closer to tower over her.
She opened her mouth to answer but simply stared at him, feeling her mouth agape like a dead fish. Panic rioted within her, twisting and turning, and she gripped the light-haired Scot so hard, she felt him jerk. “I dunnae ken,” she blurted, trying to hold back the rampaging terror.
“What’s her name?” the gruff man demanded of the Scot.
