Read Online Swept Away by Marsha Canham - Free Book Online Page A

pulled her arm the rest of the way free and straightened. “Oh. No, none at all. We were hoping you could tell us, for you were in a rather....unusual state of undress.”
    “Unusual? How so?”
    The color that had been riding high on her cheeks flamed even darker. Undergarments of any kind were most definitely never to be mentioned in polite conversation, especially not when the memories of the ill concealed shapes and shadows they were intended to protect were still shamefully clear in the mind. “You were not... completely without coverings, sir, but...what there was...suffice it to say, could not have been worn in any public place.”
    He said, “I see,” though she doubted he did, then added, “I am truly sorry to be the cause of so much trouble.”
    “You have been asleep most of the time and therefore no real trouble. My aunt, as I said before, is quite fond of you, despite--” her breath caught and held for as long as it took her to bite back the words she had been about to say-- “despite the fact that you leaked a great deal of salt water onto her carpets.”
    He said nothing. If he realized she had been about to say one thing and substituted it at the last moment for another, there was no indication of it in his eyes. He was just studying her face, feature by feature, in the same fashion she had been studying his a few moments ago.
    “When I first saw you sitting by the window...I thought you were an angel,” he murmured. “I thought I was dead and you were waiting to take me away.”
    Annaleah reacted with an involuntary smile. “I expect my family would be vastly amused by your misimpression, sir. For that matter, I always imagined angels must be dressed in long flowing robes, with wings, and halos, and a shining cascade of long golden hair spilling down to their knees.”
    His own smile was crooked, a little wistful. “Whereas I will forever more imagine them as dark-haired beauties with eyes the color of a stormy sea.”
    Anna raised a hand self-consciously to touch a glossy chestnut spiral that had tumbled over her shoulder. It was by no means the first compliment she had ever received in her life, and yet...delivered through those lips, judged by those eyes, it was almost a physical caress.
    “I really must fetch my aunt,” she whispered.
    “Please--” he held his hand out palm up in a hesitant plea. “Will you not sit with me just a few minutes longer?”
    There was a shadow of desperation in his eyes, as well as helplessness. It occurred to Anna that she could imagine feather-winged angels with perfect ease, but she could not for a single instant imagine what it must be like to waken in pain, in a strange place, with no memories, not even a name.
    She looked at his hand, trembling visibly with the fear of rejection, and she reached out, slipping her cool, slender fingers into his. The thrill that travelled up her arm this time shot straight down into her knees and, having already broken more rules of decorum than she could count, she shattered a few score more by sitting down on the edge of the bed.
    “You said this was your aunt’s house?”
    “My great aunt, actually." She nodded. "Florence Widdicombe.”
    “And...you have been here a week visiting?”
    He seemed so pleased with himself to have remembered such a trivial thing, she smiled. “Yes. I came out from London eight days ago.”
    “Alone?”
    “Yes,” she said slowly. “Alone.”
    “Your family is not with you?”
    It was on the tip of her tongue to retort that if she was alone, then by definition her family was not with her, but then she realized he was no longer even looking at her. He had turned to stare at the beam of sunlight streaming through the arched window. It occurred to her that he had not really cared about the answer, that he might just want to hear her voice so that he would not be left too long with his own thoughts.
    It was a feeling she could well understand, for the silence was forcing her to look at