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husband, and in English law, a wife’s property belonged to her husband. Still another drawback to having him think they were married.
    Misunderstanding her expression, Adam said, “I believe that I actually do have farming experience, though I can remember no particulars.” He frowned. “It just feels like something I understand.”
    â€œMore mysteries.” She pulled herself together. “I expect you to remember everything soon, but if not, when you’re better I’ll show you around Hartley Manor and we can test your understanding.”
    He stood, swaying with the effort. “I think I can make it back to the bedroom with your help. I promise to revive if you need any other unruly chaps tossed.”
    She laughed and slid a supportive arm around his waist. She liked touching him, liked the way his arm came easily around her shoulders. They returned to his room and she helped him out of the banyan and into the bed. As she pulled the covers over him, he murmured, “Could I persuade you to lie down with me? Just till I fall asleep.”
    His suggestion was equally shocking and appealing—and wouldn’t have been shocking if they truly were wed. The deciding factor was her fatigue. “That sounds like a lovely idea.” Carefully she stretched out on top of the covers on his right side so he wouldn’t injure his head if he rolled toward her. She made a mental note to check if the bandage needed changing later.
    For now, she rested. Though she was on the outside of the blankets and he was underneath, it still felt deliciously wicked to cuddle full length against him. She could get fond of this….
    Â 
    Despite his fatigue, Adam was wakeful. He’d had enough sleep, and he would much rather savor the feel of his wife in his arms. She had fallen asleep immediately with her head on his shoulder, tired by her long night and difficult interview with that dolt Burke. Thank God Adam had been able to summon enough energy to protect her.
    Most of her luminous blond hair was pinned back demurely, but the strands that had escaped were silky to his touch. The memory of her glowing in the lamplight when he woke the night before was enough to make him wish he was strong enough to be a proper husband.
    It would be a great waste if his memory didn’t return. He wanted to recall every detail of how they met. Their first kiss. Their wedding night.
    He even wanted to remember the pain of having to leave her. For that matter, where had he been and why had he left?
    He released his breath in a sigh. All in good time. He bent and kissed the top of her head. If his memory never returned, they would just have to make new memories.

Chapter Six
    Glasgow
    Randall gazed out the post chaise window as they rattled through the dense and teeming city. “I didn’t know Glasgow was so large.”
    â€œIt’s not so big as London, but the city is home to some of the greatest merchants and manufacturers in Britain,” Kirkland said. “And busier than a hive of hungry bees.”
    â€œYour accent is sliding toward Scottishness,” Masterson said with interest.
    â€œâ€™Tis only natural,” Kirkland said with deliberate broadness. “But if you think I sound Scottish, wait till you hear the average Glaswegian. You won’t even know they’re speaking English.”
    Randall smiled a little at the byplay between his friends. On the whole, it had been a silent trip up from London. They’d hired the post chaise and set off to Scotland at the fastest speed possible. Though being cooped up in the carriage with minimal halts had been hell on his wounded leg, they’d made good time. But if it hadn’t been for the wound, he would be back on the Peninsula now and he would have learned of Ashton’s death weeks after the fact.
    He had lost friends on campaign, both in battle and to vicious fevers like the one that had brought Will Masterson home to