Free The Viscount's Counterfeit Wife by J. Jade Jordan Page A

had placed his
tray on the table alongside hers and was removing the empty crockery
tray that Joseph had brought. As they left the room together, she
heard him tell the boy that he’d done a good job.
    “It’s rather plain
fare, I’m afraid,” she said of the bowl of porridge, accompanied
by bread and cheese. “Our cook is ill.” A little white lie
shouldn’t condemn her to Hades.
    “Coffee or tea?”
she asked.
    “Coffee.”
    “That was quick.
Another memory?”
    “What? Why, yes…I
guess.” His lips quirked up at the ends in a pleased smile.
    The laughter lines on
his face told her he must smile and laugh a lot. She envied him that.
She’d always taken life far too seriously.
    He pulled the sheaf of
paper close and wrote on it.
    His solid forearms
fascinated her. She loved the visible strength in them. He’d be the
ideal model for sculpting an ancient Greek strong man. Gracious! She
was awash with random, silly ideas this morning. She’d never felt
such exhilaration in a man’s presence. She seemed on the verge of
discovering something new and the anticipation rising in her
bedeviled her common sense.
    There was an awkward
silence. She felt tongue-tied, not knowing what to say to him. She
was relieved when he said, “Why don’t you tell me something about
yourself. That’s not against the rules, is it?”
    She paused wondering
what she could tell him. “Maybe I can tell you about my Great Aunt
Ida. She was a wonderful woman.”
    “Did I know her?”
he asked eagerly.
    She paused. “No, no,
you never met her. She died many years ago now, but I miss her every
day.”
    Reed watched his wife
talking about this lady who clearly held an important place in her
heart. He drank in the affection he heard in her voice, ate up her
fond smiles. If she lavished such loving attention on him, he’d be
a happy man.
    Not
without your memory, you wouldn’t be. Grimacing at his
one-track mind, he knew he’d never be content if his recollections,
good and bad, didn’t resurface. He felt unmanned, like an
incomplete person.
    He was thankful that at
least he was in good hands. What must it be like to lose one’s
memory among strangers? He shuddered at the thought. He lifted his
hand to brush the hair back from his face. Damn but he was tired.
    Tally stopped talking.
She’d lost her audience. Her listener’s mind had evidently
wandered off on a side trip.
    If only it were
possible to talk freely! Having to constantly guard her tongue made
for uncomfortable conversation. She had to watch her every word, her
every thought.
    “Shall I stop?”
    “Pardon?” He was
lost for a few more seconds and then looked sheepish. “Please
accept my humble apologies. My mind seems incapable of concentrating
on anything for very long before, like a homing pigeon, it harkens
back to my lost memory.” His hand scrubbed at his forehead. “My
attention is scattered.”
    “I understand. You
knocked your head very hard. It’s going to take some time to
recover.”
    “I don’t have
time!” he expostulated, greatly agitated.
    “You’ve remembered
something?” She didn’t like the sound of that. Had he recalled
why he was breaking into her room? If he knew that, then perhaps his
memory wasn’t lost at all.
    “I have no idea why I
just said that, but something inside is telling me it’s important
that I recover my memory as quickly as possible.”
    Tally saw he was hoping
she could tell him why. She shrugged helplessly.
    Was his subconscious
telling him he’d failed on his mission to hurt her and he still had
to accomplish it? She was no longer certain she wanted to help him
get his memory back.
    Doubt and distrust were
in his eyes when he looked at her. If he thought she was going to
prompt him to his task, he was sadly mistaken. She stood up,
appeasing her conscience with the knowledge that she was only
following the doctor’s orders. Besides! He was the criminal who
scared the wits out of her by climbing through her window!