She had mentioned wanting to move him into the dining room, and ignoring the sharp pull of sore muscles, he grabbed the mattress and began hauling it through the kitchen.
But he could not dismiss what had happened the night before.
She had kissed him.
He’d stepped away. Just barely.
And immediately regretted it.
And then—she had fled. As though the hounds of hell were at her heels, actually.
And after she’d slammed the door to her bedchamber, she had locked it so loudly he had heard the bolt slide into placefrom downstairs.
Alastair had been too stunned to go after her.
That kiss had left him paralyzed, a chaotic storm of emotions churning inside him. Arousal. Affection. The sense that he had discovered something he had lost long ago.
But also… confusion.
If he’d had a few more minutes alone with her, he might have taken her right there, on the kitchen table—with her brother under the same roof.
By God, he’d nearly made love to her.
Love?
He hardly knew her.
Except… he did, didn’t he?
Alastair exhaled sharply, forcing himself to focus on the task at hand. He dragged his makeshift bed into the dining room, setting it down in the far corner where it fit snugly without disturbing the table or chairs.
The night before, after Daisy had locked herself away, he had paced the length of her shop, trying to quiet his racing thoughts. When exhaustion put an end to that, he had returned to the pantry, where he lay awake staring at the ceiling for hours.
The few times he had drifted off, he had dreamed—dreams that felt like memories—but they always slipped from his grasp the moment he opened his eyes.
Something important was buried in his mind. But for the life of him, he couldn’t reach it.
Now, restless and unwilling to dwell on the unknown, he ran a hand along the dining table.
It wobbled. And although he didn’t remember his own damn name, this was something he could, in fact, fix.
Grateful for the distraction, Alastair located some tools, measured the legs, and began shaving down the wood until the table was perfectly level. Once that was done, he tested the chairs, adjusting each one as needed.
Having completedher early morning deliveries, Daisy unlocked her shop door and tentatively stepped inside. She wasn’t sure how she felt about facing Alastair again—for two reasons.
Firstly, because she’d kissed him the night before and… he had ended it. That fact alone sent hot embarrassment flooding through into her cheeks.
But she was also nervous because of the newspaper article that she had come across this morning. She had to show it to him. She had to tell him the truth.
With both the sales room and kitchen quiet, she imagined he might be sleeping. A peek into her pantry revealed otherwise, however.
It was empty! Even the mattress was gone!
A sick feeling landed in her stomach. Had she scared him away with her clumsy… advance? Had he left because he’d finally remembered who he was?
Maybe—just maybe—his memory had returned, and the first thing he’d done was leave her little shop behind to return to his grand townhouse in Mayfair.
Where his uncle no doubt waited for him—his father’s younger brother, Lord Calvin.
