The doctor left to gather his supplies, and the tension in the room was thick.
“You should write to your family,” Knightly said. “Let them know you're safe and where you are, so they can come and fetch you.”
“I'm not leaving you behind,” Willa said.
“These people may think we’re married, but the truth is, we’re not. We made it back to civilization. I can’t expect you to stay here with me. I thank you for all your help.”
“Knightly—”
“Don't call me that. It's not my name.”
“Then what should I say? You there, man, sir. I'm not going to leave you here alone. Who will watch over you at night? Where will you go after here?”
“I don't know, but that's not your concern.”
“It isn't? Pardon me,” Willa said, turning away angrily. “I thought we were…”
“What?” he asked quietly.
Willa took a deep breath. “Friends.”
“You have no idea who I am.”
“You don't know anything more about me than my first name.”
“I know you have eight sisters and a brother. You told me that.”
“And you remembered. Your memory will return to you.”
“What if I'm not who you think I am?” he asked, lowering his shield again.
She didn't like it one bit. She marched to the bedside and lifted it.
He flinched. “What are you doing?”
“I don't like it when it's down, and I can't see you.”
“You can't see me at all anyhow.”
“I can see your mouth. I can see a little of your expression. Your mouth is very expressive, you know.”
He scoffed. “No, I don't know. I don't know anything about me, or what kind of man I am, and that frightens me. Don't you see? How can I deserve…”
Her heart skipped. What was he saying?
“What? What do you think you don't deserve?”
“I don't even know. I don't know anything about myself.”
“We’ve pieced together quite a few things. You're not a highwayman, you’re a gentleman, and you were on your way to London.”
“Those things don't mean much.”
“You came to rescue me. You're a good man. You’re brave and honest.” She peeked at his mouth. His lips were set in a firm line. What more could she say that wouldn't reveal more than she was ready for him to see? She was falling for a man and didn't know his name or his face, but she had seen the freckle near his left nipple. She knew the pattern of hair that spread over his chest and down to a little funnel in his breeches. She knew that he had large feet, and he wore silk stockings, just like she did.
Willa knew that his feet were very pointy and from his big toe to his little toe was a sharp slant as if his feet were made to wear boots. She knew that when he held her, she fit perfectly against his side. The top of her head just meeting his shoulder. She could tuck herself right under his chin if she wanted to, and it would be the safest place in the world. What did his name matter? What did his station matter?
Willa knew the most important things about him already. Maybe it was better this way. Knowing someone without the benefit of being able to judge them. She knew him deeply. She knew the smell of his skin, the scrape of his morning beard against the palm of her hand. What more did she need to know?
