“I pray you will feel better tomorrow.”
“As do I.”
Silence passed between them again, making her uncomfortable. If he wouldn’t stare at her with those remarkablehazel eyes, perhaps she could tolerate his presence. Perhaps she should go to the kitchen to see if Dora had gathered the rest of the staff. After all, she couldn’t put off talking to them another minute.
Cassandra made a move to stand, but he held up his hand, stopping her. “Before you go, will you tell me one more thing?”
“Uh, I suppose there is no harm in that, although you do need your rest.”
“Lady Kentwood, would you please tell me aboutyou?”
She hitched a breath. Why in heaven’s name did he want to know about her? She couldn’t possibly tell him much without her anger erupting. But she supposed she could tell him a little. “I, um… What exactly do you want to know?”
Collin stared at her for a few unsettling seconds. It wasn’t the silence that bothered her—it was the way his gaze moved slowly over her face, up to her hair, then down again, traveling across her face but then moving lower as he looked over her gown.
She held her breath as her memory opened to a time she wished she could forget. Collin had looked at her in this manner before, and her body had responded as tremors of desire cascaded over her, making her weak in the worst way. Even now as he studied her, she couldn’t stop the pounding of her heartbeat and the tingling in her belly. Curse his hide for creating such havoc in her mind until she felt defenseless. Since she had already gone through this with him, she did not want it happening again.
The bedroom door opened, and Dora bustled inside, carrying a tray of food.
“I know you said you weren’t hungry,” the housekeeper said, “but I thought I should bring this up anyhow, in case you change your mind and I’m not around to bring this to you.”
“Thank you, Mrs.…” He arched an eyebrow.
“Mrs. Thompson, my lord. I’m the housekeeper.”
He smiled. “It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”
Collin struggled to sit up straighter but was having a difficult time shifting on the bed. Guilt washed over Cassandra for doing nothing, so she stepped closer and placed the pillows behind him. She took hold of his upper arm to assist him.
His gaze flew to hers and locked. Once again, her breath stopped in her throat. She was too close to him, and she needed to move away now before the ice wall around her heart started melting. Under no circumstances could she let that happen.
Trying not to make a scene, she casually released his arm and stepped back. Dora hovered nearby, still holding the plate.
“My lord, do you want me to set it on the table?”
He shook his head. “Perhaps I shall try to eat a little before resting.”
“I think that is an excellent idea.” Dora placed the tray of food on his lap before moving back toward the door. “Lady Kentwood? I have not been able to gather the staff yet, but Bentley and Riddle are assisting me.”
“Splendid.” Cassandra sighed with relief, knowing she would finally have a good excuse to leave the room.
“Is there anything else you need, milady?” Dora asked.
“No. That is all, Mrs. Thompson.” As soon as Cassandra said the words, she wished she could recant them. She really didn’t want to be in the bedroom alone with Collin. And now she couldn’t tell him she was meeting with the household staff right away, because he knew differently.
The servant walked out of the room and closed the door. Cassandra swallowed hard, trying to moisten her suddenly dry throat. Her mind spun with excuses to give him to leave. Being alone with him was unhealthy.
Hesitantly, she looked at Collin. He had taken a spoonful of stew, but his attention was on her. His throat jumped in a swallow, and he smiled.
“You must compliment your cook. This stew is delicious.”
“Yes, I’ll let her know.” Cassandra fidgeted, wringing her hands against her middle.
“Lady Kentwood, could you please tell me how we met? I’m sure my memory would return if you could feed it with something that happened in my life.”
Inwardly, she groaned. Could she really tell him how they met without appearing like a giddy schoolgirl? Telling him about that dreadful day when they were supposed to meet at the abandoned cottage would be difficult. She definitely wouldn’t be able to hold her anger then. But hopefully, he would have recovered his memories at that point. She could only pray that was what would happen.
Nodding, she returned to her chair. He continued to eat, but his gaze only left her face for a second to look at his bowl of stew before coming back to her.
