explain. Sheâd surmised already that she and Dr. Sandor had never been lovers. She knew, too, that he was an honorable man, or he would never have refused what sheâd just offered.
For some reason that made her happy.
She risked a glance at the man sitting opposite her.
Sometime while sheâd slept, heâd changed clothes. Now he wore a red turtleneck sweater, the color vivid against the black of his hair and the stubble on hischin. Televisionâs Adrian Paul, the Highlander, she decided, or perhaps a young Marlon Brando.
She laughed silently at her choice.
She wasnât old enough to have lusted after a young Marlon Brando. Or maybe she was. Her age was one of those things that seemed hazy. The only thing she really remembered was a telephone call, and a manâs voice saying he was a reporter who wanted to come and have a word with her aboutâ
About what?
God! She felt a lurch in her stomach, a jolt of pain that for just a moment cut into her like a knife. She sat up straighter and pressed her hand against her chest.
âWhatâs wrong, princess?â He moved his table away and grabbed her as if he thought she was about to run away.
âNothing. I mean, itâs just that I canât remember. I know something is wrong, but I donât know what,â she said frantically. âIâve got toââ Then she forced herself to silence. She didnât know what she had to do. Her life seemed to have begun when Niko helped her escape from the hospital.
Hospital? That stopped her. That and the sudden rush of new memories assaulting her mind. She felt the pain and heard the thud of cold asphalt smashing against her skull. There was a squeal of brakes and a car horn. Thenânothing.
Until the man from the moors came to life and began to talk to her. She knew him. He was her lover. No, he was the lover of the woman in the book, theman and woman sheâd dreamed about. What was happening to her? Had she lost her mind?
She slumped back against the white leather chair and swallowed hard.
âKaren, whatâs wrong?â
Niko took one look at her face and went after his medical bag, where he retrieved his stethoscope. He rubbed its head between his hands until it was warm, then threaded it under the robe until he reached her chest.
âWhat are you doing?â she asked.
âChecking your vital signs. Iâm a doctor, remember?â
Her pulse was erratic. Hell, his own pulse was erratic. Just touching her with a piece of metal sent him into orbit. He took a deep breath and waited. Finally, her heartbeat began to slow. He withdrew his hand and let the scope fall. With his fingertips he closed her eyes, then opened them, studying the reaction of her pupils. Then came her pulse. Everything seemed in order.
âDonât do that again, princess. Iâm trying to help you. You wanted to go to Slade Island. Remember?â
âSlade Island? Yes. But I wanted sunshine and white sand.â
âSorry. What youâre going to get is granite and snow. Itâs the middle of the winter. If youâd rather go someplace warm, Iâll see what I can do.â
âNo, I want to go to Slade Island, even if it is a fantasy. I know you arenât a Gypsy wearing a red satin shirt and riding a white horse with red ribbons in hismane. This isnât a dream and the island isnât real, but I want to go there anyway.â
âNo, I donât have a white horse and I donât have a red satin shirt either. I did have an earring once, but I donât wear it anymore.â
She looked at him curiously, her eyes drawn to the hole in his ear, as if she wasnât sure she should believe him. âDonât be afraid, Karen. I wonât let anyone hurt you, I promise.â
Karen hesitated, then nodded. For the time being she had to trust him. She had no alternative.
She was relieved when he shifted the conversation to more innocuous
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