Pain blackened his vision. “Bloodyfuck.”
“Dearheavens. Oh, my poor darling, let me help you!”
He managed to catch his breath…only to lose it again as he looked up.
A goddess was rushing toward him: Venus in the flesh.
Her flame-red hair cascaded over her ruffled pink dressing gown. Her cheeks were rounded and smooth, freckles sprinkled across her little nose like specks of gold leaf clinging to alabaster. She got down on the floor beside him, easing his head onto her lap. And his pain was momentarily forgotten as he looked up into eyes bluer than heaven.
“Are you hurt? Oh, my dearest, why didn’t you wait for me? I only left for a moment to check on the children. They’ve been climbing the walls of the nursery, ever so eager to see you.” Words flowed from her cherry-ripe lips in a seemingly endless stream; dazedly, he thought he’d be content to lie here forever, his head upon the soft bank of her thighs, her voice as soothing as a meadow brook. “No, you mustn’t try to get up by yourself. Here, lean against me: let’s see if we can get you sitting up first.”
She helped him, propping his head against her bosom, and even in his current state he felt a flicker of lust. Christ, but she was perfectly formed. Beneath the silk and ruffles, her tits were large and firm; as he turned his head, his cheek brushed against the enticing bump of a nipple.
He looked wonderingly at her.
“Who are you?” he asked.
Her sky-blue eyes got even huger. “You…you don’t recognize me?”
He flashed to an image…of a painting or real life? In his foggy state, he didn’t know. But he knew the image was of her, this woman, her naked curves lush and glowing. In one hand she held roses as red as her hair and nipples; her other hand was positioned over her sex, her delicate fingers hiding what he somehow knew was a wet, hot, and decadent pussy.
Beneath his sleepshirt, his cock throbbed along with his head.
“You do know who I am…don’t you?” she said haltingly.
Some goddess-like wench I’ve tupped before?But her manner wasn’t that of a lightskirt. Confused, he shook his head—and wished he hadn’t. The room started to spin again.
“I’m Gabriella,” she said in a tremulous voice. “Your wife.”
This gorgeous creature was hiswife? Bugger him, he wasmarried?
Why don’t I remember her?He tried to think, couldn’t with the room whirling like a blasted dervish. A hammer pounded against his skull, and another realization detonated in his brain.
Amidst the spinning darkness, words scraped from his throat. “Bloody hell, who amI?”
The last thing he saw was her rounded eyes before blackness swallowed him.
“You are saying my husband’s state isnormal?” Gabby asked in disbelief.
It was two hours later, after Dr. Abernathy had arrived and completed a thorough examination of Adam. Leaving her husband under the watchful care of Mrs. Page, Gabby was meeting with the physician in the upstairs parlor. She needed privacy to discuss her concerns.
“Not normal per se. But not abnormal given Mr. Garrity’s injuries.” Seated across from her, the physician looked more earnestly boyish than ever. His sandy hair had an unruly cowlick, and beneath his square chin, his cravat was a trifle askew. “Your husband was shot, knocked unconscious, and nearly drowned. Given all that, he’s doing remarkably well.”
“Well?He doesn’t know who he is! He doesn’t recognize me”—she clapped a hand against her chest—"his wife ofeight years.”
“I understand how stressful this must be, Mrs. Garrity.”
For some reason, the physician’s tone, which was no doubt meant to be soothing, rubbed her nerves the wrong way. It must be her lack of sleep, the constant worrying. But, truly, how could this…thisman-childunderstand what it was like to have a spouse who didn’t remember anything of one’s marriage—or anything at all?
She bit her lip and said nothing.
“I’ve attended other cases involving a near-drowning,” he went on. “In many of them, there was some memory loss, related to the deprivation of air, I believe. Several patients had no recollection of their histories, nor the circumstances surrounding the accident itself.”
Trepidation slithered down Gabby’s spine. “Is this memory loss…permanent?”
“Not necessarily.” The physician leaned forward, his grey eyes somber. “Several of my patients made full recoveries, regaining all their memories, knowledge, and abilities. With your husband, I would expect a positive prognosis, given his brief period under the water and his excellent general health. Indeed, the wound on his side is healing even better than expected. Shouldn’t trouble him at all in a fortnight or so.”
With burgeoning relief, she asked, “How long will it take for him to regain his memories?”
