The Unforgettable Hero(18)

The young woman picked up her skirts, turned, and drifted back into the crowd, but Adam made a mental note of what she was wearing so he could point her out to Lucy later. Perhaps they could find her again and learn some answers.

At the moment he needed to get Maggie out of the ballroom. Take her someplace where they could be alone and he could ask her questions. He was still out of sorts over not being able to find the papers she’d had with her during her accident. He’d hoped she’d be recognized at the ball tonight. And perhaps she had been just now. But the woman who’d called her Cecelia hadn’t mentioned a family name, and he certainly couldn’t ask her right then without causing Maggie more concern.

He took her by the elbow and led her along the far side of the room out the French doors. Once they were outside, he inhaled a deep breath. A light summer breeze swept across the terrace, and the scent of freshly cut grass and summer flowers mingled in the air. The wide stone space was sparsely populated with others from the party; small white candles in clear glass holders around the balustrade provided a scarce amount of light in addition to the stars hanging in the night sky.

Adam escorted Maggie to the far end of the balustrade that overlooked the Findleys’ gardens. For the moment, Adam and Maggie were alone. When he turned to face her, she wore a look of grave concern.

“Maggie, what’s wrong?” he whispered. Had her memory come back? Was she frightened?

She shook her head and swiped at her cheeks with the backs of her gloved hands. “I … don’t know.”

He searched her face. “What do you mean?”

“I mean I don’t know what’s wrong and that’s what frightens me. That woman called me Cecelia.”

He gently cupped her elbow. “Do you recognize that name?”

“No.” She shook her head. “But I feel as if I should.” She lifted her chin but her bottom lip trembled. Adam had the urge to reach out and stroke it with his thumb.

“I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry, too,” she replied. Then she smiled, crossing her arms over her chest and shaking her head. “It’s the strangest thing but I … I think I have a rabbit.”

A smile crinkled the corners of his eyes. “A rabbit?”

“Yes. You know? Small, brown, furry. Enjoys carrots.”

“With you?” he asked with an irrepressible smile.

She glanced around. “Not at the moment, no.”

The moment of levity passed quickly and the look of panic returned to her eyes. “Peter, you’d tell me, wouldn’t you? You’d tell me if something was wrong. You’re so noble and heroic and—”

“I’m neither of those things,” he ground out.

She took a step closer to him and looked up into his face. “Oh, yes you are. You’re a hero to me.”

Adam couldn’t help it. He pulled her into his arms and kissed her.

She gasped at first when his lips met hers, but soon her arms slid up the front of his jacket to encircle his neck. She pressed herself to him, and he nearly groaned. She felt so good, so soft and lush all pressed against the front of him. She tasted like berries. His tongue swept her mouth. His hands cupped her soft cheeks. He reached one hand down around her lower back and pulled her intimately against him, hard. She moaned.

He didn’t want to let her go, even though he knew the kiss was wrong. Everything about this was wrong. He was taking advantage of an ill woman, for Christ’s sake. But the way she’d looked up at him was so trusting and calm and beautiful. She’d called him a hero. No one had ever done that before. No one would ever do that again. In that moment, that one unforgettable moment, she’d made him feel like a hero. Her hero. Jesus, was it wrong to wish that she’d never remember who she truly was?

He forced himself to pull his lips away from hers and take a step back, still shaking slightly from their kiss. So was she. Her hands fell to her sides. She looked flushed. He needed a cold bath.

“I’m—My apologies,” he began.

“Please don’t apologize. You made me remember.”

Adam’s heart stopped. “You remember?”

“Yes.” She nodded, smiling at him, her pink lips gloriously swollen. “I remember our first kiss. The night we became betrothed. It was at the Harrisons’ garden party, and it was magical.”

Adam took a deep, still-shaky breath. “I don’t doubt it,” he said softly. But whatever the reason, he was merely glad that her fear had passed. Hadn’t he just wished she wouldn’t remember? His lungs had nearly jumped through his throat when she’d announced that she did.