“You still think my uncle is behind the attack,” he said.
She nodded. “I think it would be a mistake not to.”
Alastair’s pulse pounded. “My uncle ran the dukedom until I came of age.” He rubbed his temples, frustration mounting. “I can’t remember those months—those years. But by the time I returned to Woodland Priory, you were gone. And I was told you had married.”
Daisy didn’t flinch. She only nodded, her expression unreadable, as if she had already come to terms with this long ago. “The new estate manager sent us away shortly after your father passed.”
“You never married.” His voice was barely above a whisper. Timelines, memories, words, tumbled around his head, almost as confusing as the emptiness had been.
“No.” A wry, brittle chuckle escaped her lips. “I never married.”
The backs of Alastair’s eyes burned. He had loved Daisy. He was certain of it. Even now, even after everything, the pull toward her was stronger than gravity.
“I’m so sorry,” he whispered.
Worthless words.
Meaningless words.
He stepped forward, slowly, carefully—like approaching a wounded animal. When he placed his hands gently on her shoulders, she didn’t pull away.
When he had first woken in her pantry, his mind blank, his body weak, his heart had somehow known her.
And now, he saw all of her—the woman she was today and the girl she had once been.
“You have nothing to be sorry for,” she murmured.
“But I do.” His grip firmed. “And I swear to you, I will find out why.”
And once he did?
He’d spend a lifetime making it up to her.
As though exhausted suddenly, Daisy tucked her head under his chin. “You remember our time together,” she murmured. “And that it was special.”
Alastair understood why she needed this. She hadn’t lost her memory. No, she remembered everything, but he had left her in a different kind of darkness.
A darkness filled with unanswered questions, loss, and… betrayal.
“You were the light of my life.” Alastair buried his face in her hair. “I remember the first time you let me kiss you. Do you remember? I’d just returned from school, and yours was the only face I wanted to see.”
“You said you hated school that first year.”
“And you scolded me for that.”
She let out a tinkling laugh. “You liked when I scolded you.”
“Not at first.” He exhaled.Not until I realized she scolded me because she cared. “You made me read to you.”
She tilted her head, and Alastair kissed her neck.
“I liked that,” she whispered.
“I remember feeling like you were a part of me.” Her pulse fluttered beneath his lips. “We made love,” he said.
She let out a soft, broken cry and reached up, her arms locking around his neck as if afraid he’d vanish the moment she let go.
“Daisy.”
