“That you knew,” he said.
She frowned. “That I knew? What does that mean?”
“I don't know, but I bloody well can't imagine knowing you, having a friendship with you, and not wanting more. That seems impossible. The way you make me feel, the way you make me smile and laugh even when I’ve taken a mace flail to the side of the head, how can I not—”
She covered his mouth. She couldn’t hear anymore. “Please don't. I can tell you everything I know of you before the accident.”
“My feelings for you are the only thing I'm certain of.”
“But I'm not,” Willa said, “and I think I know you better than you do right now.”
His jaw tightened. “You think so? Am I not acting like…myself?”
“No, many of your actions have reminded me of, well, you. But this new physical aspect was never between us before now, and I'm afraid to trust it.”
“Fine. I understand we were only friends before but that's changed now, hasn't it? You feel differently. I feel differently.” He cupped her face. “It's not ever going to go back to the way it was. It can't. I may never know that Wesley. I'm who I am now, for better or for worse.”
The urge to kiss him, to reassure herself, came on so strong she flinched, having to hold herself back.
He let go of her. “I don't want you to be frightened of me.”
“I'm not. I swear it. I am scared of myself.”
“Talk to me. If we were friends first, that part certainly hasn't changed. We've been honest with each other. Haven’t we?”
“Yes,” she replied, “but you've been hurt enough today. I want you to lie back and rest. I know the doctor gave you a hefty dose of that tonic.”
“I hardly feel it now after having my head yanked off. Sleep is the last thing on my mind.”
“But you need it. You still have a large wound in the side of your head.”
“Lie with me.”
Willa wanted to protest. Her mouth opened to refuse him, but then she reconsidered. There were no decisions to be made right now. It was barely midday, and he needed rest more than he needed a lecture from her about his own feelings. “Very well. Just let me get my book.” She pushed the chair back and went to fetch the book on the mantle that Mrs. Davies had given her.
He lay back on the bed, and Willa went to her side. As she climbed onto the mattress, flashes of the night before, the sensual magic that had come over them filled her mind. Heat swamped her as she lay down on the bed. Her body refused to heed the warning of her head. It wanted closeness. It wanted pleasure.
It wanted Wesley.
The realization was so new and shocking. She couldn't sit still. Willa couldn't get comfortable sharing a bed with him just yet, but she forced herself to lay back against the pillows.
“Come closer,” he said. “I’ll rest easier if you're right beside me where you can't run away.”
Willa snorted. It was just like Wesley to make jokes to try to make her smile or laugh when she was down. She scooted closer, and he put his arm around her. She lay back against the pillows. The warmth of his body soothed her unsettled emotions.
She curled into his side and rested her head on his shoulder.
“Am I forcing you to do something you don't want to do?” he asked, his tone serious.
“No, it's not that I don't want to be close to you. I’m just not sure it's the right thing to do just yet.”
“I think I understand. I'm just glad that at least one of us knows who I am. And I’m so happy to see you, all of you. You're so beautiful.”
She peeked up at him. His eyes were closed, and his voice had gone soft and sleepy.
“I'm so happy you're going to be all right,” she whispered.
He didn't reply, and she thought he might have drifted off to sleep. His arm tightened around her as she laid her hand over his heart. The steady thump under her fingertips reassured her that he was well, and he was still hers for the moment, at least until they returned to London. Until…his memory came back.
