forfeit," he said, piqued and irritated.
"Now listen," he said in the tone of an exasperated parent. "I am going to let you up. But if I have to chase you around the room or tackle you again, I'll know that—virgin or no—you enjoy it, that what you really want is the consequences of romping half-naked with a man with a good deal of heat in his loins. Understood?"
She realized he awaited her nod. She gave it, buying time and trying to guess his next move. To her surprise, he lifted his weight and eased his back against the headboard again. After a moment's incomprehension, she came quickly off the bed and backed away.
"I give up," he said as he returned to the half-eaten apple and bit into it. "Perhaps you can tell me why you are so bent on mistrust? Is there a reason, or is this a routine you go through with all the lucky men in your life?"
"I do not know who you are! You say your name but it means nothing to me." The palm of her hand went to her forehead again, and she rubbed as if trying to stir life back into a stiff limb. She whispered, "I don't know what I am doing here. I don't even know my name."
Her fear softened the worst of his annoyance and exasperation. "You really don't, do you? Well, you must remember something." Hoping to hear some place he could send her off to, he asked, "How about where you're from?"
She realized she did not know where she had been born, who her parents were, if she even had parents, a brother or a sister or a pet, a dog or a bird. "I don't know! It's as if there is a black empty space in my mind and I try to look through it ..." She paused, struggling, expecting her memory to return any moment, certain it would return and this, the man and this house, the whole upside-down world would make sense to her.
In the void that followed, the questions ignited a panic.
Dear Lord, who were her parents? Where had she been born? Did she have a brother or sister, two or ten or none?
She had known loneliness, at least she thought so, but even in the seclusion of the darkest isolation one always had the company and comfort of memory. Of self. This loneliness was awesome in its reach, and nothing existed besides the fear, the certainty that someone chased her! That being caught meant her death!
She felt dizzy, and a feverish wave of heat washed over her—
She tried to fight the swoon and the brief struggle saved her, for it gave Seanessy—-ever quick—-enough time to jump from the bed to her side. He caught her up in his arms, grateful to spare the girl another head injury, the last thing she needed.
He set her gently on the bed. "Easy," he said as she watched him through a gray fog that dissipated slowly as she drew deep breaths. "No more acrobatics today. Are you thirsty?"
She nodded, realizing it as he asked.
He poured her a glass of water at the table and returned to the bedside, where he indulgently held it to her lips. Small pale hands circled the glass, and for a moment he studied them. Delicate hands, unaccustomed to labor.
Her voice too, said she belonged to the clerical class.
"Are you able to breakfast, do you think?"
He did not wait for a response as, still impervious to his nakedness, he moved to the marble fireplace and rang a long gold rope to summon a servant. She studied the blond hair brushing his broad muscular shoulders and back, tapering to a lean waist and firm buttocks before her gaze traveled down the long length of his legs.
He was a danger! Lake a great Nordic god, he was!
The idea made her blush hot and she tried to look away, but a queer fascination kept her eyes on him. She swallowed, watching as he went to the dressing table and began to bathe. She half expected to hear the deep timbre of his voice raised in song, his manner seemed so carefree—as if he had not a trouble in the world!
Seanessy disappeared into the huge clothes closet, and she forced herself to drink the rest of the water. The effort she put to the simple task told her she had been
"Now listen," he said in the tone of an exasperated parent. "I am going to let you up. But if I have to chase you around the room or tackle you again, I'll know that—virgin or no—you enjoy it, that what you really want is the consequences of romping half-naked with a man with a good deal of heat in his loins. Understood?"
She realized he awaited her nod. She gave it, buying time and trying to guess his next move. To her surprise, he lifted his weight and eased his back against the headboard again. After a moment's incomprehension, she came quickly off the bed and backed away.
"I give up," he said as he returned to the half-eaten apple and bit into it. "Perhaps you can tell me why you are so bent on mistrust? Is there a reason, or is this a routine you go through with all the lucky men in your life?"
"I do not know who you are! You say your name but it means nothing to me." The palm of her hand went to her forehead again, and she rubbed as if trying to stir life back into a stiff limb. She whispered, "I don't know what I am doing here. I don't even know my name."
Her fear softened the worst of his annoyance and exasperation. "You really don't, do you? Well, you must remember something." Hoping to hear some place he could send her off to, he asked, "How about where you're from?"
She realized she did not know where she had been born, who her parents were, if she even had parents, a brother or a sister or a pet, a dog or a bird. "I don't know! It's as if there is a black empty space in my mind and I try to look through it ..." She paused, struggling, expecting her memory to return any moment, certain it would return and this, the man and this house, the whole upside-down world would make sense to her.
In the void that followed, the questions ignited a panic.
Dear Lord, who were her parents? Where had she been born? Did she have a brother or sister, two or ten or none?
She had known loneliness, at least she thought so, but even in the seclusion of the darkest isolation one always had the company and comfort of memory. Of self. This loneliness was awesome in its reach, and nothing existed besides the fear, the certainty that someone chased her! That being caught meant her death!
She felt dizzy, and a feverish wave of heat washed over her—
She tried to fight the swoon and the brief struggle saved her, for it gave Seanessy—-ever quick—-enough time to jump from the bed to her side. He caught her up in his arms, grateful to spare the girl another head injury, the last thing she needed.
He set her gently on the bed. "Easy," he said as she watched him through a gray fog that dissipated slowly as she drew deep breaths. "No more acrobatics today. Are you thirsty?"
She nodded, realizing it as he asked.
He poured her a glass of water at the table and returned to the bedside, where he indulgently held it to her lips. Small pale hands circled the glass, and for a moment he studied them. Delicate hands, unaccustomed to labor.
Her voice too, said she belonged to the clerical class.
"Are you able to breakfast, do you think?"
He did not wait for a response as, still impervious to his nakedness, he moved to the marble fireplace and rang a long gold rope to summon a servant. She studied the blond hair brushing his broad muscular shoulders and back, tapering to a lean waist and firm buttocks before her gaze traveled down the long length of his legs.
He was a danger! Lake a great Nordic god, he was!
The idea made her blush hot and she tried to look away, but a queer fascination kept her eyes on him. She swallowed, watching as he went to the dressing table and began to bathe. She half expected to hear the deep timbre of his voice raised in song, his manner seemed so carefree—as if he had not a trouble in the world!
Seanessy disappeared into the huge clothes closet, and she forced herself to drink the rest of the water. The effort she put to the simple task told her she had been
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