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disheartened. He only hoped that what he told her would come true. He shook his head and walked down the hall to answer his insistent beeper.

CHAPTER THREE

     
    Sara gazed into the mirror every chance she had. She came to know the reflected face very well, not because of any memories but because she studied it so intently. Sara didn't think she was being conceited in feeling that she was attractive. Her long ash blond hair with its hint of natural curl was brushed back and held with combs. The dark-amber eyes, shot through with brown, changed their intensity with her moods. The tip of her nose was slightly tilted, and her mouth was full and soft. When she smiled, straight white teeth peeked through pink lips and dimples appeared under her high-boned cheeks.
    Sighing, she turned the mirror over and laid it on the bed. She could feel her eyes smarting from the salty tears that were gathering on her lashes.
Damn
, she thought bitterly,
no matter how often I study that face, it means nothing to me
. Clumsily she crawled out of bed and grasped at her crutches. She had to somehow escape this feeling of being trapped in a stranger's body.
    She limped around the room and her mind whirled with the thoughts that not only was she trapped in a stranger's body but was married to a stranger. Regardless of how often she saw Roarke, there was no recognition, no familiarity. Their developing relationship was not one of continuing intimacy derived from years of being together but from her viewpoint was new and frightening. It seemed to her that Roarke and she were destined to remain strangers because all they had in common was a past she couldn't remember. She kept hoping that he would lift his obstinate veil of reluctancy to talk about their marriage, but she was unsuccessful in drawing him from behind it.
    To add to her unhappy muddle of emotions, she conversely found herself looking forward to his visits with breathless expectancy. Not only did she want to remember him because he was her link to the past, but she was becoming curious about the physical side of their relationship.
    When he would lean over and kiss her gently on the lips, the soft pressure would start a tingling that was both exciting and confusing. The slightest touch of his hand left a burning sensation on her flesh. If his eyes rested on her lovingly, her heart would begin to pound with the promise his look held. His very nearness seemed to awaken desire in her. She was afraid of how her body automatically remembered and responded to him, but when he left her, the arousal would be replaced with confusion. Tomorrow she would be going home with Roarke, and the thought of being alone with him intrigued and frightened her.
    She was trying to follow Ted Maxwell's advice to give herself time, but sometimes she just couldn't control her agitation. And these were the times she paced around her room, limping on the crutches, ungainly in her attempt to run away from herself.
    The new memory… her new memory, she thought possessively, of Roarke's visit last night brought tears to her eyes. Almost bouncing into the room, he had taken her into his arms, kissed her lightly on the lips and said, "Honey, I'm sorry I didn't get here to see you this morning."
    Smiling and trying to ignore the tingling flesh of her lips where his had touched them, she teased him. "That's okay, your flowers were a fairly decent replacement. I really don't expect you to be here all the time. I feel sure you have more important things to do than come to this hospital to visit me."
    At his crestfallen look she quickly added, "It would be nice if you could be here all the time, but I know you're busy, Roarke."
    Her reassurance brought a pleased look to his face and his eyes glowed warmly. Placing his arm around her waist, he helped her to the chair by the window. "I'm glad you feel that way. I would be here all the time if I could be. We're all so excited about you coming home. Martha and Bradley have the