She swallowed hard. She should say something. Anything.
But all she could do was stare—because she wasn’t entirely certain of the answer herself.
“Wouldn’t any decent person care for someone in need?”
“No.” His answer came quickly. “Not in my experience.”
Did that mean… “You have some memories, then?”
“Yes. No.” He frowned. “Nothing helpful.”
He seemed to shake the thought off, then focused on her again, his gaze sharp with meaning.
“But you haven’t answered my question. Are you my…wife? You knew me before I was attacked?”
This man had never been her husband—nor had Alastair.
And yet… seeing him standing there, listening to the cadence of his voice, sent a chill down her spine.
It felt familiar. Right.
Like the last drop of oil to round out a scent.
“No,” she answered…regretfully?
Certainly not.
He was a stranger to her, nothing more. Nothing less. Then,anticipating the question she knew would follow, she added, “But Mrs. Farley is a horrible gossip, and it was the only explanation I could think of for how you came to be standing in my kitchen…” Daisy closed her eyes, exhaling. “Practically naked. I do wish you’d stayed in the pantry…”
“So none of it was true, then? It was just to protect your reputation…” Did he look… disappointed?
Of course he did. This meant he was back at square one.
He didn’t even know his own name, for heaven’s sake.
“Being ruined presents different repercussions for a woman like me. My clients… My blends of oils and soap are special—too expensive for common people to buy. It’s taken a good deal of work to build up my customer base, and I rely on them—for everything.” She sighed. “And these customers. They are… proper.”
He nodded, his expression pensive, and then his eyes met hers.
Nobody had looked at her like this in a very long time—looked at her as though he not only wanted to see her, but also hear her and understand her. As though he wanted to know all the things she wasn’t saying.
The same way Alastair had.
She resisted the urge to squirm.
“Then I must leave,” he finally said, his tone resolute. “I’m too much of a burden, and I could become a liability. Tell your nosy neighbor that your wandering husband refuses to settle down.”
Daisy shot out a hand, stopping just short of grabbing his arm. “You can’t leave. You might feel well enough to stand now, but your fever only just broke. If you don’t give yourself time to fully recover, you could fall ill again, and then everything I’ve done will have been for nothing.”
He gave her a sheepish sort of grin, and for the briefest instant, it swept her back to ten years before—to a time beforeshe carried all the burdens that came with the harsh realities of life. But just as quickly as the feeling surfaced, it was gone.
“I assure you, I will take care,” he said. Then he cleared his throat, a flicker of uncertainty crossing his face. “But… did you keep my clothing, before…?”
“I did. But…” She hesitated, gripping the edge of the worktable. “You cannot go.”
Something in her voice made him pause.
Deep down, a niggling voice taunted her.Why are you so reluctant to let him go?
