The man farthest from her had skin the color of strong dark coffee and his course black hair was pepper-gray at the temples. He wore tan pants and a cream-colored linen shirt. Her eyes lingered on his feet and frowned. He wasn’t wearing shoes.
The man standing next to him was attractive in a weathered kind of way. His hair was long, light colored mixed with gray strands. He wore dark pants, which tapered at the knees and were tucked into his boots.
Her gaze slid to the man standing over her like a redwood tree. He had rolled up his white shirtsleeves exposing tanned forearms and he wore dark formfitting pants tucked into knee length boots. Against the glare of the sun, she took in his dark hair, which framed his rugged attributes. A shadow of a beard darkened his defined jaw line and a scowl penetrated his features. Her breath caught in her throat and her heart pounded against her ribcage at the way the man stared at her. Just her luck, gorgeous, but lacking in the personality department. She tried to stand and winced, sitting back down again. "Who are you, and where am I?” Her voice croaked as she fought her way through the cobwebs of a nightmare-filled sleep. She tried to remember what had happened to her, but failed to recall anything before she woke up. “Why am I soaked?”
Like his expression, Mr. Personality’s deep voice held no warmth. She managed to meet his gaze and found herself lost in his alarmingly green eyes.
"What is this aboot, Annabelle?”
She detected a slight lilt to his speech; about sounded more like a boot. He seemed irritated with her, but she didn’t know why. Did she know him? He spoke to her as if he did. What did he call her? "Annabelle," she said testing it, but it didn’t roll off her tongue the way it should. Annabelle simply couldn't be her name, but for the life of her, she couldn't think of what it was. "Wait, wait.” She did know. She was Ari... yes, her name was Arianna. Arianna what? What was her last name? Her head pounded in time with her pulse and panic struck her. “Oh God, I’m having an aneurysm.”
"Weel?" Mr. Personality questioned with no compassion for her dilemma. "What game is this Annabelle?”
"Game?” The man was obviously thick in the head. "I'm not playing a game.” She closed her eyes and rubbed her temples. "And why are you calling me Annabelle? My name is Arianna."
Keldon exchanged a troubled glance with Leighton. Maybe Annabelle wasn’t acting. He knelt down beside her again. She opened her eyes, flinching as he ran his hand down the back of her head. His fingers glided over raised skin at the base of her skull. Her luminous blue eyes stared up at him with a gentle gaze he didn’t recognize. He blinked and shook his head at the absurdity of his revelation, "Ye’ll be fine.” Keldon moved from her, only long enough to speak to Leighton. "Bring Doc Hathaway back to the house. He’s out at the Draytons."
"Aye.” Leighton nodded and went on his way.
Keldon turned his attention back to Arianna. "Are ye able to stand?
Arianna paid attention, hoping Mr. Personality would say something she’d recognize, but he only blurted out names that meant nothing to her. Like the older guy Mr. Personality sent away, he had an accent that was similar. They pronounced some of the words with long e’s like in well, sounding more like weel and other words with the rolling r’s and soft dropped g’s. They were Scottish, she thought. "Scottish," she said aloud. That one word seemed important. She was on the verge of remembering why, when Mr. Personality interrupted her thoughts yet again.
"Annabelle, do ye need help gettin’ to yer feet?"
Arianna wasn't sure. Furthermore, she wasn't sure she wanted to go anywhere with this man. She didn't like his attitude. Maybe she didn’t know him and yet... his eyes, clear and green with a slight tilt at the outer corner reminded her of cat. A memory flashed. Someone warned her about a dark-haired man with green eyes.
"Annabelle?”
The concern in his voice drew her attention.
“Ye look as white as a ghost. Are ye goin’ to swoon?”
Arianna remembered something else. Trust the... Her gaze locked onto his. “Are you the Scotsman?"
Her announcement must have caught him off guard for he froze as if a chill settled over him, but then his eyes narrowed blazing with mistrust.
“You’re angry with me. Why?”
Mr. Personality didn’t answer, but held out his hand. "Come on, Annabelle."
Not knowing what else to do, she reached for him. She held on tight, but once on her feet, the world around her spun on its axis. She closed her eyes, hoping the spinning would stop. It didn't. Her legs wobbled like Jell-O and the earth came hurdling at her, but Keldon saved her from falling, pulling her into his arms.
Her eyes fluttered open. Her hand came up to rest on his rugged cheek. "Trust, the Scotsman," she whispered, before she succumbed to the darkness.
CHAPTER THREE
Arianna choked as she inhaled, tears burning her eyes. What in the world did they stick up her nose?
“Doc Hathaway is going to take a look at ye,” Keldon told her.
She blinked and stared at the portly man with the bulbous nose.
Doc Hathaway sat down on the edge of the bed. He looked over his shoulder at Keldon who hovered over him. “Why don’t you wait downstairs?”
“I should—”
“It would be for the best.” Doc Hathaway insisted.
“Fine.” He marched out of the room shutting the door behind him.
“Who is that man?” Arianna asked. “Do you know him?”
Doc Hathaway opened his mouth and closed it again. “Mrs. Buchanan, he’s your husband.”
“My what?” Arianna shook her head and regretted the effort. Her head felt like it would explode. She stared at the doctor. Any minute now, he’d laugh and say he was only joking, but he didn’t even crack a smile. “I couldn’t possibly be married. I would remember something so important.”
Doc Hathaway cleared his throat. “How much do you remember?”
She wrinkled her forehead. “I’m Arianna Ward.” Her gaze locked onto the doctor as she grabbed his arm. “I’m Arianna Ward! See, I couldn’t be Mrs. Buchanan.”
“Your husband—”
She released her hold on him. “Please don’t call him that.”
The doctor nodded. “Keldon told me you hit your head?”
She lifted her hand and touched the tender area at the back of her skull. “So it seems.”
“I’ve been your doctor for a long time and you know I’ve never revealed your secret.”
“My secret?” Her gaze riveted to his again.
The doctor fidgeted looking uncomfortable under her gaze. What secret did she have and why would she tell the doctor and not her husband? Assuming she had a husband.
“We’ll discuss that at a future date. Let us concentrate on now. You can trust me when I say your name is Annabelle Buchanan and the man who went downstairs to wait for me is indeed your husband, Keldon Buchanan.
Arianna shook her head in denial, but she could think of no reason why this man would lie to her? She leveled her gaze on him. “You swear, you’re telling me the truth?”
“Yes.”
She sighed, her shoulders sagging. “Fine.”
“Fine?”
“For now, I’ll have to accept your word.”
“But you still don’t believe me.”
“I have no idea what to believe. Why don’t you enlighten me? Tell me about my life, Dr. Hathaway.”
****
Keldon wanted to question Annabelle about why she called him the Scotsman. Unfortunately she didn’t wake up until Doc Hathaway used the smelling salts. He’d wished he’d thought to use them.
Leighton stood as Keldon entered the study.
“Did Samuel tell ye?” Keldon asked.
"I ken what happen after I left,” Leighton voiced. “Do ye think she knows then?"
Keldon ran his hand through his hair. "I doonae know. She dinnae sound like she was sure. She spoke as if she was testin’ the sound of it."
"I'd say she's toyin' with
ye. Ye better watch yer back. She may strike without warnin'. We doonae know where she was headin' before we found her. I doonae trust her one lick."
Keldon paced, going over every detail in his head. He’d been careful. He’d sneak out long after Annabelle retired for the night. She couldn’t have found his disguise since he hid it on the Schooner.
He didn’t need this right now, not with the run already scheduled. Had Annabelle been heading out to warn someone? He stopped pacing and looked at Leighton. "We better lie low for the time bein’. Tell the others, we'll meet at the end of the week. Hopefully by then, I will know more aboot our situation."
"Aye. I’ll spread the word.” Leighton motioned to Keldon not to say more.
Understanding the warning, he turned to find Doc Hathaway had entered the room. "Your wife seems to have suffered a severe blow to the head. She will recover, but her memory is a little hazy."
"What do ye mean by hazy?"
Doc Hathaway shook his head. Come take a seat and we'll discuss the situation.”
Keldon harrumphed, already coming to the conclusion he wouldn’t like what the doctor told him.
Leighton poured a dram for everyone while Keldon waited for the doctor to give his prognosis.
"Annabelle is disoriented and may be for some time."
"Is she addled?” Leighton tapped his head to emphasize as he handed the doctor his drink.
The doctor shook his head. "No. No, nothing so severe, but she does seem a little confused."
"Confused?" Keldon questioned wanting the doctor to get to the point.
"She doesn't remember anything prior to when you found her.” The doctor waited for his information to sink in. "It doesn't mean she won't regain some of her memory back."
"She doesnae remember a thing?” Keldon wasn’t convinced.
"I questioned her, thoroughly. She didn't even know her name. She kept insisting her name was Arianna Ward. I'm sorry to say she has no recollection of being married, either."
"Nay?” Keldon's brow lifted slightly. He’d never heard of such a thing. He wondered if Annabelle was trying to trick them in some way, but for the life of him, he couldn’t see the reason for it.
"You'll need to be patient with her. Surround her with familiar items and activities she enjoyed in the past. Sometimes this helps the memory to return."
"Ye've seen the condition before then?”
"Yes.” He inhaled deeply. "Unfortunately not all recover their memory. I'd say Annabelle's memory loss is most severe. I wouldn't hope for much.” Doc Hathaway finished his drink. “If you don’t mind me saying so, maybe it would be for the best. Annabelle is …”
“Is what exactly?” Keldon’s eyes narrowed.
“She’s different. I can’t put my finger on it, but… she’s gentler.”
“Gentler.” Keldon couldn’t believe his ears.
The doctor cleared his throat. “Listen to me babble. It’s late.” He stood. “My wife will be worried if I don’t head home soon.”
“Hmm. I’ll walk ye out.”
****
Keldon stayed up late going over in his mind what possible motive his wife would have to masquerade as someone who’d lost her memory. "What are ye up to?" he murmured under his breath as he poured another drink.
His marriage to Annabelle had been a farce from the beginning, but he’d been too love struck to see the truth of her nature.
An arranged marriage, he accepted the engagement with reluctance until he met her. She wore her shimmering pale blonde hair unbound and curled, looking like a fairy princess and when her gaze touched him, he’d been lost within the depths of her blue eyes, sinking beneath the surface and not caring. He would have done anything for her and he tried, but their marriage became a nightmare he couldn’t escape. He failed somehow. Annabelle loathed him in every way—his touch sickened her and when she’d become pregnant, she cursed him daily as if he’d committed an insidious act upon her.
Annabelle never wanted the baby. However, he did. He would have asked for nothing more if she’d given him a child, but she had miscarried in her third month. God help him, he suspected she induced her labor. She almost died. By the time he found her, she’d hemorrhaged, losing so much blood, her skin grayed and she felt cold to the touch. By some miracle, Doc Hathaway saved her life.
As soon as Annabelle was well enough, she moved her belongings out of their room and across the hall. She threatened if he ever touched her again, she'd kill him. He thought she needed time to adjust from the shock of losing their child, but she proved how foolish he was. She despised him, and slowly her bitterness crept into his soul, until any love he felt for her died.
He proposed they end the marriage but Annabelle refused. She pleaded with him to give her a second chance and like a fool, he agreed. It wasn’t long before he discovered her true reasons for wanting to save the marriage.
The day was burned into his memory…
“Ye lied. Ye want my name only to receive yer inheritance.”
“You surprise me Keldon. I didn’t think you were bright enough to figure it out.”
“It’s over.”
Annabelle laughed. “It’ll never be over, dear husband. If you ruin my reputation with a divorce, you have my word I’ll drag you down with me.”
“What can ye do?”
She walked over to him and ran her hand down his arm. “Don’t tempt me, Keldon. It won’t be pretty.”
He often wondered if Annabelle’s father knew of his daughter's cold, uncaring heart and placed the binding stipulations in his will. Did he also realize the husband would be miserable?
Keldon couldn’t live the lie anymore. He wanted a wife who truly cared about him, a wife he could trust. Let Annabelle do her worst to ruin his reputation. He didn’t care anymore. He had requested the divorce and waited for the papers to arrive to make it official.
Now with Annabelle's memory loss, he wasn’t sure how he’d present the divorce papers to her. Maybe this was her ploy. Maybe she knew of his request for the divorce and her revenge would be to make him look like a heel for abandoning his wife in her time of need. Keldon drained his glass and slammed it down. “Damn her.”
He headed upstairs, pausing in front of Annabelle's room. He couldn't resist poking his head in to see if she’d fallen asleep.
Still darkness greeted him with only the illumination from the full moon casting any light. Annabelle rested in the middle of the bed with her pale blonde hair haloed around her. She murmured in her sleep and rolled to her side.
Curious to know why she seemed restless, his steps took him closer. Her brows drew together and she mumbled something under her breath he couldn’t make out. He leaned down in hopes of hearing what she said, but she sat up with a guttural cry of terror. He stumbled back swallowing his own bellow of alarm.
Annabelle hadn’t seen him yet and she trembled as she hugged herself.
His heart constricted, making him wish he could slink away unnoticed. He took a step back, but she heard him. Her doe-like eyes, wide and scared, locked onto his. Her lower lip trembled, and he had the distinct feeling she might scream again.
“Annabelle, ye’re safe,” he soothed
"It's you," she let out a breathless whisper.
"Aye. Did ye have a bad dream?"
She nodded and a heart retching sob escaped her lips.
A strange surge of affection assailed him making him question his sanity, but he couldn’t help himself. Annabelle never cried. He approached her. "Do ye want to tell me aboot it?” He sat down on the bed beside her. She moved closer to him, resting her head on his chest. Keldon’s first impulse was to push her away, but as her sobs continued, he put his arms around her, drawing her closer. "What happened?" he coaxed.
"I dreamt about a Ferris wheel, a fortuneteller and...this place. It was in ruins. I died here."
Did she think her life here so miserable, death called her? “What is a ferret wheel?”
“Ferris wheel,” she cor
rected.
“Fare…issss wheel. What do ye speak of?”
She didn’t answer.
“Annabelle?” He looked down at her and realized she’d fallen asleep or maybe she had never been awake at all. He eased her back down and covered her with the thin white sheet. He stared, troubled how her brows puckered as if the dream still haunted her. He gently caressed her cheek, but abruptly pulled his hand away as though her skin burned him. What was he doing? This woman didn’t deserve any sympathy.
"You sees it, too?”
Keldon swung around. His face grew hot with humiliation, wishing Maeve hadn’t witnessed his moment of weakness. He forgot that Annabelle’s servant slept in the corner for the night.
The young black woman stood and walked out of the shadows to stand at the edge of the bed. She glanced at Annabelle before her dark brown eyes pinned him down.
"What am I suppose to be seein’?" Keldon asked.
"Dat dis here woman ain’t Miss Annabelle. Dat devil woman be gone from us.” Maeve crossed herself. Her eyes darted around the room as if she feared a demon would appear.
The night was warm, but Keldon shivered. He had to admit, he sensed a difference in his wife something he couldn’t put his finger on. As for her becoming another person…impossible. "Maeve, ye have to realize Annabelle hit her head with such a force her memory escapes her for now."
Maeve shook her head. "I know better. Dis woman be Arianna likes she says. Dis here woman be kind in her heart. I see dis.” Maeve held Keldon's gaze refusing to waiver from her conviction.
Keldon opened his mouth but shut it again. Uncertainty plagued his mind as he stared at his wife.
****
Arianna awoke with a start. “I have to…” She paused trying to remember where she needed to be. Then fear hit her full force as she realized the nightmare of yesterday continued today. She took in her surroundings—a wood carved dresser and mirror against the wall with pretty bottles, silver brush, and comb. Her gaze touched the lovely lace curtains, framing the opened window, the large bed with an endless array of pillows. Nothing. Nothing, not one item looked even vaguely familiar.
Karen Michelle Nutt Page 2
