This poor man. He was so lost in his own mind, and she had the map. As shaken as she was by their changing relationship over the past few days, she could not withhold that vital information any longer.
“You are Wesley Parker, Mr. Wesley Parker. Your father is Sir Thomas and your mother is Lady Parker. You have two sisters, Moira and Rose. We were both headed to London but not together. You were supposed to be traveling with your family. How—never mind.” She couldn’t ask him how he came to be here. He didn't know.
“You know me,” he said, his voice colored with bewilderment. “I'm not just anyone.”
“I know who you are. I know you very well.”
“We’re…friends?”
Willa was afraid to answer. She swallowed and nodded. “Very good friends.”
Something changed in his eyes. There was a flash of hurt. His fingers laced with hers. “That's it?”
That’s how it used to be. How could she explain what they were before, compared to what they were now? Her friend, her dear sweet friend was now the lover she’d lain beside, she fantasized about. How could they be the same person, and yet he was.
She was the one who was different.
She was the one who now saw him as more than a friend, and he didn't know. He didn’t remember how he felt about her before.
“That was it,” she replied. Pain shot through her heart. “We were very good friends. Now it seems we are a bit more,” she said. She bit her lip.
“You know who I am,” he said again, sitting back in the chair but not letting go of her hand. “Am I betrothed to anyone?”
“No, you are a bachelor.”
“So we’re free to…” He reached for her again.
Willa hesitated and he drew back.
“What's wrong?”
“You need to rest,” she said, trying to cover up her rejection of his touch. She needed time to regain her senses and figure out what this meant for them. How to reconcile that the two men that she loved in different ways were now the same person.
“I think you should lie down. You’re a bit pale,” she lied. He seemed rather virile, but still, he ought to rest. She stood and pulled him to his feet.
“Tell me more about me,” he said. “Maybe it will help.”
That she could do. He lay back slowly, easing his head on the pillow.
“My head feels so light,” he said. “I can see so much now. Everything is so much brighter.”
Willa smiled. “I'm glad.” She dragged the chair close to the bed. She saw him frown again as he considered the space next to him that was still empty of her.
She took his hand. She could hold his hand. That was all she felt comfortable doing right now. “When I say your name, it doesn't trigger anything? A vision?”
He shook his head. “But when you first said it, for some reason, it didn't surprise me. I don't know how to explain it.”
“I think that's a good start,” Willa said. “What about when I say your parents names?”
“It's the oddest thing,” he replied. “I hear them and I think I know them, but I can't recall how I know that bit of information.”
He closed his eyes, and Willa studied his face. Had he always been this handsome, and she just did not notice? But she had noticed a long time ago when they first met. Her heart slowed to a normal pace, but as she gazed at him, every beat became thicker and slower, her blood like honey.
Her mind must be putting the pieces together. The handsome familiar face with the broad shoulders. The chest that she loved to touch so much. The strong thighs, heavens, now she was thinking about his manhood.
Willa rubbed her brow. She was disgracefully wanton, but there was a very large problem with resuming their relationship. Willa was fairly certain that the Wesley she'd known before had no romantic feelings toward her.
He was her friend, a very dear friend who knew her better than anyone else, with the exception of her own family. This man knew her too, intimately, passionately, not in a friendly manner. He knew her as a woman.
