Jo Beverley - [Malloren] Read Online Free PDF Page A

blind?
    But then his frantic eyes caught a slit of lighter darkness. Surely a crack in heavy curtains showing night outside. Please God, let it be so.
    Pain in his belly. Cramps. Not as bad as his head, but bad enough. He prayed not to be sick. If he threw up, he’d likely choke because he was never, ever going to move his head again.
    Staying perfectly still, he began to notice other things. He was in a bed. Quite a comfortable bed.
    He was naked. They wouldn’t put a grievously ill man to bed naked, would they?
    Someone was with him.
    They lay a little apart, but he could hear regular, sleeping exhalations. A woman? It would explain his lack of clothing, but….
    What the devil had he been up to?
    It could be a man—a fellow traveler, a fellow drinker, collapsed with him. He risked movement, stretching out an inquiring hand.
    Female surely. He picked up the faint scent of flowers that had spoken to his instincts. In a nightgown. Strange, that. He couldn’t remember ever enjoying a woman and leaving her nightclothes on.
    Perhaps she was excessively modest, but that wasn’t his type either.
    Who was she?
    He had no idea.
    No idea even of possibilities.
    ’Struth, what a mess!
    He must have drunk a barrelful to have a head like this, and to not remember the woman. What was he going to say to her in the morning?
    Where
had he drunk so much? He should know that. He should remember starting to drink. He scrabbled for a place, a name, a picture—
    And fell into a terrifying void. Where his memory should be, lay only emptiness.
    Panicked, he clung to a fact he did feel sure of. He didn’t drink to excess. He hadn’t been truly sozzled since that time in Italy on his Grand Tour. He’d been sixteen and he’d thought the effects had cured him of overdrinking for life.
    Was he in Italy now, sozzled on fine wine in a palazzo in Venice?
    No. Years had passed since then.
    Many years.
    He was in England.
    Yes, he was sure he was in England, and a grown man. He slid a hand down to his chin, feeling the strong bones and the roughness of stubble. A fact presented itself. His twenty-ninth birthday was not long past.
    Why were some things so certain and others lost? He knew he was in England, but not where. He knew his age, but little of what he’d done with over ten years. Perdition! He started to shake his head and stopped with a hiss of agony. His brain felt both scrambled and faded, as if heavy veils hung between himself and the fragments of his life.
    What did he remember? What?
    Taking farewell of his family in London.
    He had a family—brothers and sisters. He could even see faces, but when he asked for names he got only nonsense. An elf? A bright elf? A sinful elf … ?
    He couldn’t stand this. He tried to sit up, then stopped, frozen by pain. Oh God. Oh God—
    He slowly eased his tormenting head back on the pillow, went back to lying very, very still. His head shrieked with every breath.
    Perhaps he was gravely ill. But then, who was the woman in his bed? His nurse?
    Hardly.
    Who
was she?
    Who was
he
?
    That simple question sprang into life, then fell tangling into that ominous void, stiffening him with terror. Terror of following the question into that deep, black hole where he wouldn’t exist at all. He reached out for something real. Anything. Her cotton nightgown.
    “Oh. You’re awake.”
    The woman had moved, and now she took his trembling hand in hers. He clutched at her, ready to weep with gratitude.
    “Where am I?” he whispered, afraid of the pain of speaking louder.
    Silence. Had he imagined her? He gripped her soft hand tighter….
    “Gillsett! Please. You’re hurting me.”
    Immediately, he relaxed his grip. “I’m sorry. I … I can’t see.”
    Her other hand brushed his forehead, a gentle touch that seemed blessedly familiar. Was this his wife? Surely he’d remember if he were married. It was not unpleasant, though, to think of being familiar with that warm voice and soft, caring hand.
    But no.