The Princess Has Amnesia!. Patricia Thayer

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СКАЧАТЬ his fatigue, he returned to the plane and removed the first body from the cockpit. He took the man’s ID from his pocket. In bold black letters it proclaimed him to be, Rory Hearne, Penwyck security, top priority clearance.

      â€œRory,” he said the name aloud. “So you’re the one she called out for in the night.” Jake experienced a tightening in his gut that felt suspiciously like jealousy. That was crazy. He didn’t even know the woman. Why would he care if she and this Rory were lovers?

      Jake lifted the other man from his seat and retrieved his ID. He found a pilot’s license for Stephen Loden also from Penwyck. That wouldn’t be out of the ordinary since the small island of Penwyck wasn’t too far off the coast of Wales.

      After tucking Rory’s gun into his belt and the wallets into his jacket pocket, he started to lift the pilot and noticed a small tattoo through the tear in his shirt. A small, black sword. Where had he seen that tattoo before? During his years with the bureau, Jake had accumulated a lot of miscellaneous information, read over hundreds of advisory reports. As a terrorism specialist, his life had depended on it.

      A sword. Jake searched his memory. The black sword represented the Black Knights. That was it. The Black Knights were a subversive group located in Europe.

      Now he wanted to know what a security guard with top clearance and a pretty blue-eyed girl, with no memory were doing with a rebel. He had a lot of questions to ask his guest when he got back to the cabin.

      She woke up with a killer headache, desperate to find something to stop the pounding. Climbing out of bed, she found the dog at her feet.

      â€œHello, fellow. Where’s your master?” Not that she wanted to deal with the rude man, but she needed medication.

      Still in the blue shirt that he’d given her, she gingerly walked to the door of the bedroom and opened it. There was a small fire in the hearth, but the room was deserted. Grimacing, she made her way to the kitchen area and located the first-aid kit.

      Trembling with relief, she popped open the lid and found the bottle of aspirin. She removed two tablets, then took a glass from the cupboard. Pumping the water was a little difficult, but she managed. After swallowing the tablets, she went into the sitting area by the dying fire. My word, she was cold. There was a blanket on the back of the couch. She wrapped it around her shoulders and a familiar male scent suddenly filled her nostrils. She could smell him. Sitting down on the cushion, she burrowed into the warmth and closed her eyes.

      She could picture the brooding man, dressed in a plaid shirt and jeans, his face drawn, tiny brackets lining the corners of his mouth. His straight white teeth were visible when he smiled, which was a rare occurrence. It was his beautiful raven-colored eyes that drew her attention, but the sadness she saw nearly broke her heart. What had happened in his life that made him want to live off by himself? A woman? What kind of woman was the man attracted to? Blondes…brunettes?

      She reached for a strand of hair. Hers was light brown. Plain light brown. Did someone think she was attractive? Was someone out there missing her, aching for her to come home? She tried so hard to remember, but there were only blank spaces. Was there no one for her? She had been in limbo for the past two days. What was worse, her rescuer, Mr. Sanderstone, didn’t want her around. Well, she didn’t care. The Yank was bloody annoying. He was also handsome and very well built. What a pity he didn’t have any manners, any polish.

      A splattering of heavy raindrops hit the window, and she stared out the cloudy pane at the storm. Would she ever be able to leave here?

      Suddenly there was pounding on the door. She got up and walked over, hesitating on her next move. Then she heard a familiar voice. “Hey, open up, it’s raining like hell out here.”

      She unlatched the bolt and swung open the door to find Jake. He was soaked to the skin and he looked angry.

      â€œWhere have you been?” she asked.

      He pushed passed her, stripped off his rain gear and hung it up on the hook “I’ve been up on the ridge, burying your friends.”

      She gasped. “My friends? Do you know who I am?”

      â€œSorry, I didn’t have time to look around to learn your name. The weather turned on me. After I buried the bodies, I had to start back.” He took a chair from the table, sat down and started pulling off his wet boots. He jerked off his sweater, then unbuttoned his shirt as he tugged it from his pants.

      With his black hair plastered against his head, he reached for a towel in the kitchen and mopped the water from his face and hair as he walked to the hearth. He looked at the fire and cursed. “Couldn’t you at least keep the fire going while I was gone?” He removed the screen and placed several logs on the dying embers.

      â€œI wasn’t informed that you had left. And there were no written instructions telling me to keep anything going.”

      â€œCommon sense would tell you to add logs to the fire when it’s going out.”

      â€œYou seem to forget that I was in a plane crash yesterday and I don’t have any memory,” she snapped. When she stood, her head began to spin and she swayed.

      Alarmed, Jake rushed to her side. “Whoa.” He grabbed her by the arm, led her to the couch and sat her down. Damn. What was wrong with him? He was being a jerk.

      â€œDoes your head hurt?” Stupid question. He could see the pain in her eyes.

      â€œYes, I took some medication from the first-aid kit.”

      â€œThen rest here.”

      â€œNo,” she said, refusing to lie back. “I want to know what you found at the plane. Who…died?”

      He shook his head. “We can talk about it later when you’re feeling better.”

      â€œI need to know now,” she demanded. “Who were they?”

      He didn’t want to go over this now, but it looked like he didn’t have a choice. “There was a Rory Hearne, he was a security guard from Penwyck. Do you remember him?”

      She shook her head again. “No.”

      â€œYou sure? You cried out his name last night when I tried to wake you. It seems you were pretty familiar with this guy.”

      She frowned. “What are you insinuating, Mr. Sanderstone?”

      He didn’t like the feeling that had creeped back into his gut. “I’m only stating facts, chère.”

      â€œWell, stop it. You act as if I’m guilty of something. What if this Rory and I were…together? Is there any reason we shouldn’t have been?”

      â€œNo, but we’re trying to find out who you are.” He was pushing her, but since his discovery, this situation had grown a lot more serious. And he needed some answers. “Does the name Stephen Loden ring any bells?”

      She shook her head. “Was he the other man in the plane?”

      Jake СКАЧАТЬ