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"Good," Aulay said. "She was sitting up in bed when I came in. I carried her to the table. She ate almost half a bowl of soup. We started to play chess, and then . . ." He shrugged.
"How did she remember how old she is?" Rory asked, straightening next to him.
"I do no' ken," he said with a frown. "She was asking about Saidh, asked how old she was. I told her she was about twenty-two or twenty-three and she said, 'so a year or two younger than me,' and then she got excited that she remembered and I asked if she knew her birthday, and . . ." He gestured to her unconscious form.
Pursing his lips, Rory turned back to Jetta and murmured, "So the memory came naturally, almost as a side thought."
"A side thought?" Aulay asked, raising his eyebrows.
"I mean, she wasn't trying to remember. It just came out when she thought of Saidh's age. Some part of her automatically compared it to her own age and the memory naturally cropped up to allow it," he explained, and then added, "But when she deliberately set out to try to remember something else, her head started to hurt and she fainted."
"Aye," Aulay said thoughtfully, and then added, "she was trying to remember things when the pain struck her the first time as well."
"Hmm." Rory frowned and shook his head. "She may be awake and walking about now, Aulay, but her mind must still be healing. 'Tis the only explanation I can think of for the pain her trying to force memories brings on." Expression solemn, he added, "She could do herself great damage trying to force the memories before her mind is completely healed."
"So, ye're thinking 'tis like walking too soon on a leg that was broken and has no' completely mended," he suggested. "She could just damage it all over again?"
"Aye, exactly like that," Rory said with a sigh. "Ye need to tell her to just let it come naturally and no' to try to force the memories to return."
Aulay snorted at the suggestion. "Would ye stop trying to remember were ye in her situation?"
"Nay," he admitted with a grimace, and considered the problem briefly. Finally, Rory just shook his head. "I do no' ken what ye can do. But do whatever ye can to keep her from trying to force the memories. Maybe distract her or something anytime she tries. Otherwise, I shall have to start feeding her sleeping drafts to send her back to sleep every time she wakens. In fact, mayhap I should just do that anyway. We have no idea how much damage she does every time she tries to force it. Aye, I will go get--"
"Nay," Aulay said at once, not happy with the thought of keeping the woman drugged and sleeping. When Rory turned to him in question, Aulay said, "I will try distracting her first. If that does no' work, then ye can resort to the sleeping drafts, but let me try first."
Rory frowned, but then nodded. "Very well. But if ye can no' distract her, send fer me and I'll mix her up a sleeping draft."
Aulay grunted agreement and watched him leave the room before turning to look down at Jetta. Judging by her expression, the pain had followed her into unconsciousness. But he was determined it would be the last time it plagued her.
Jetta opened her eyes and then let them flutter closed again when bright sunlight pierced the woolly sleepiness she'd been enjoying. Goodness, it was bright in the room, which meant it must be twice as bright outside. A warm, sunny day then, she thought. There were few enough of those where she came from. Most days either started rainy, or quickly became rainy where she grew up in Northern England.
"Oh," Jetta gasped, her eyes popping open again with surprise.
"Are ye all right, lass?"
Turning her head, she stared blankly at her husband for a moment and then smiled widely and blurted, "I just remembered I grew up in Northern England."
His eyes widened slightly at the news, but she hardly noticed. Jetta was already frowning and trying to remember where in Northern England.
"Lass," Aulay said.
"Aye?" she asked absently, still searching for more memories.
"Are ye hungry?" he asked. "Can ye eat some more soup if I have some brought up?"
Did she know the names of any of the castles or villages in Northern England perhaps? she asked herself.
"Jetta."
That would be a start, she decided. She would make a list of all the villages and castles in Northern England that she could think of. If she could think of any. At the moment nothing was--Her thoughts died abruptly when Aulay suddenly kissed her. One moment she was lying there with her eyes closed, trying to think, and the next his mouth closed warm and firm over hers, completely washing away every thought in her head.
For a moment, Jetta was so startled that she didn't respond to the caress, but then as her earlier passion stirred in her once again, she opened to him and kissed him eagerly back. The moment she did, Aulay broke the kiss and smiled crookedly at her. "Do ye want some soup, lass?"
"Aye," she breathed, although, frankly, Jetta suspected she would have said yes to anything he asked at that moment. All she really wanted was for him to keep kissing her. Unfortunately, the moment she said yes, he straightened away from her and walked to the door. Mavis or Rory must have been out in the hall for some reason, because rather than leave the room or shout an order, she heard him murmuring to someone.
Sighing, she closed her eyes briefly, and then opened them just as quickly.
"Northern England," Jetta murmured, recalling what she'd been thinking about before he'd kissed her. She knew her age and she knew she'd grown up in Northern England, somewhere it rained a lot. Her memories were coming back. Slowly, and in bits and pieces, but still they were returning. That had to be a good thing, didn't it?
"Do ye want to sit at the table to eat?"
Jetta opened her eyes at that question and saw that Aulay had finished giving his instructions and was now crossing back to the bed. She glanced to the table, and sat up with a nod, but barely got the furs and linen tossed aside before he was there scooping her up into his arms. Jetta didn't struggle, but merely settled into his hold and wrapped her own arms around his neck as she admitted, "I like it when ye carry me."
"Do ye?" he asked with amusement.
"Mmm-hmm," Jetta murmured, leaning up slightly to press a kiss to his chin. "It makes me feel small and cared for."
"Ye are small and cared for," he said gruffly.
"Aye," she agreed. "Mavis told me that you are the one who repeatedly spooned broth down my throat to keep me from starving to death while I slept. She said she offered to do it for you, but you insisted on doing it yourself and only gave up the task to her when you had castle business to tend to and could not do it yourself. She said the times that happened would not even equal all the fingers on her hand." She pressed another kiss to his chin and whispered, "Thank you."
"Ye're welcome," he said, his voice a low husky growl that sent shivers down her back.
When he paused then, she glanced around to see that they'd reached the table. Knowing he was about to set her down, she gave him a quick hard hug and whispered, "I think I must be the luckiest wife in the world having you to husband." Releasing him then, she leaned back and added, "And I bet I fell in love with you the moment I saw your handsome face."
Jetta felt him stiffen, and tipped her head to eye him with curiosity. "What?"
"Are ye mocking me, lass?" he growled, spearing her with his eyes.
"Mocking you?" she asked with confusion.
"I ken I am no' a handsome man," Aulay said grimly. "I was at one time, but no' anymore, no' since the battle where Ewan was killed and where I gained the scar on me face."
Jetta shifted her gaze to his scar and saw her husband flinch as he realized she was looking at it. Aulay was incredibly stiff now, as if awaiting a blow, and it made her wonder if they had never had this discussion before. Had she never reassured him that his scar did not detract from his attractiveness in her eyes? Truly? Had she been that stupid ere the wound that took her memory?
"I do not know what you see when you look at your reflection, husband," she said solemnly. "But I see a handsome man. In fact, I like the scar. It keeps you from looking too pretty and makes it appear that you have a bit of a devil in you."
"Ye think I look like the devil?" he asked stiffly, completely taking her words the wrong way.
Frowning, Jetta caught his face in her hands and turned him until his eyes were straight on to hers, and then she said firmly, "Not the devil, a bit of a devil. It makes you look a little dangerous, like a Viking come to raid and pillage, or a bandit looking to rob and rape, or a warrior come to kidnap and have his way with me."
Much to her relief, her words seemed to amuse him somewhat for he smiled suddenly and commented, "There appears to be a theme in there, lass."
"Aye, well . . ." Jetta hesitated, but then decided if her husband did not realize she found him attractive she had failed as a wife and needed to correct that right away. The man had cared for her himself while she was ill rather than leave her to the care of a servant, and he had treated her with nothing but kindness and concern since she'd first awoke. He deserved to know he was a good, attractive man and that she felt lucky to be his wife.
Clearing her throat, she said, "I find you very handsome, husband. I also like your kisses and touch . . ." Swallowing, she continued bravely, "And the idea of you having your way with me sends shivers all through me and leaves me wanting."
Much to Jetta's embarrassment, her admission at first seemed to make the man freeze. It made her wonder how their married life had been before the accident that had stolen her memories. Had she shunned him because of the scar? Or had he taken her possible shyness with her new husband for revulsion? Worried that she might have hurt him in the past, Jetta began to search her mind for memories that might clear up the matter for her. Determined to know what she'd done so she could fix it, she concentrated hard on the task, searching her mind and wincing as the effort immediately started her head pounding. She had just raised a hand to rub her pounding forehead when Aulay suddenly released her legs.
Jetta gasped, thinking at first that he was dropping her, but it was only her legs Aulay released. Allowing them to drop, he caught her at the waist with both hands and lowered his mouth to hers.
"Oh," she breathed just before his lips covered her own. The kiss was so passionate, demanding and all-consuming that Jetta hardly noticed when he set her on top of the table. At least, not until his hands began to move over her body and she realized he was no longer holding her up. They moved over her back, caressing and massaging and pressing her tighter against his chest and then slid lower, gliding down and under her bottom to cup and urge her forward on the tabletop as he moved between her legs and ground against her.
Gasping at the unfamiliar sensation that sent shooting through her, Jetta clutched at his shoulders and kissed him back with an almost frantic eagerness. She even wrapped her legs around him to pull him tighter as she shifted her own hips, trying to move against him as he was doing with her.
"Husband," Jetta cried in protest when he suddenly broke their kiss and pulled back. She then felt a tug, and glanced down to see that the overlarge shift no longer covered her breasts, but had been pulled under them. Even as she noted that, he tugged the sleeves down her arms so that the gown fell to pool around her hips, leaving her bare from the waist up. Before she could try to cover herself, Aulay covered one breast with his warm, firm hand and began to knead. With one hand on her breast and the other at her shoulder to support her, he urged her back until Jetta was almost lying on the tabletop. Aulay had leaned forward as he'd eased her down, and the moment he had her at the position he wanted, he claimed one of her breasts, taking almost half of it into his mouth and suckling as he slowly drew back until only the now hard tip remained between his lips. He nipped her lightly then before turning his attention to the other breast and removing his hand so he could repeat the action.
