My Ducky has no memory of me, lovey, Rob, Mum, Dad…she remembers nothing past the night of her twentieth birthday when she and that college chum of hers had gone drinking and then gotten into a car.
They’d ended up scraping the thing on the side of a hydrant that night, but had been no worse off for the escapade and had likely only massive hangovers as a reminder.
Bottom line? Shaw has some sort of amnesia thanks to her head striking one of the stairs when she’d fallen, and the doctors have no idea when she’ll regain her memory. If she ever does.
Instinctively, some part of her knows that the baby is hers; she hasn’t relinquished the kid since reawakening and pinning us with a terrified owlish blink, and I’d even watched her nurse beneath a towel, her face softening in awe.
Now they’re telling me that it might be a good idea to let her go back to America while her mind heals. Not fucking likely! Never. She already thinks that we’re married and that I am her adoring husband. We might as well just…plonk along as best we can for the time being.
It also has the added benefit of allowing me to get to know her and to allow her to get to know the me that I should have shown her from the beginning.
If she never regains her memory, it wouldn’t matter. I’ll just love her exactly as I should have all those months, and hope she comes to feel the same.
“You have to understand, Mr. Stone. Her mind is fragile. If you push too hard, it could set her back,” the doctor says, shaking his head wearily. “Unfortunately, we can’t say why her memory is gone. Her injury is not one that would lead to amnesia. All we can surmise is that the shock of falling in her condition must have been so great she sought comfort in forgetting.”
Because I know her, I understand why that can be so. Shaw is a loving, fiercely protective woman. If she’d thought in that split second of falling that she would lose the baby, I have no doubt that she would have retreated as far and fast as her mind would let her.
I just need to find a way to get her back.
I’ll still cherish her for the rest of my days even if she never remembers, but I need to at least try so that I can grovel the way I need to. She needs to know how sorry I am for everything. And then I need to prove to her that I am a good bet. That I can make her happy in every aspect of our lives together. Not just in bed.
“She knows that Angelica is hers, and she thinks I’m her husband. We’ll go from there and hope for the best.”
God, I love that name. Seems Shaw had named our darling even not knowing that she was hers.
“As you wish. Just do not under any circumstances leave her alone. She needs reassurance especially if you’re taking her home to a place she doesn’t recognize.”
“Trust me, I will be glued to her side at all times.”
“But your company—?”
I turn to Mum and Dad and shake my head.
“Trey can take over for the foreseeable future. Ducky needs me now, and I won’t let anything take me from her. The company be damned.”
I understand their shock. I’ve spent ten years building it and would never have once thought to let a woman interfere with my responsibilities, but for her…nothing is more important to me now. Not after watching her half bleed to death at the bottom of those stairs.
Another ten minutes are spent letting the doctor know how little of a damn I give about his opinions before we leave his office and start walking back to my darlings.
“There’s still the matter of who pushed her,” Dad finally says, his face going hard as stone.
“No worries. Kent assured me that he and the cousins will find the culprit. Until then, no one will step into the house unless they’re family.”
“Right. I’ve already spoken to Millie, and she and Molly will be down in a week or so after we’re settled,” Mum says, sighing tiredly. “I want to know who did this, Cameron. And I would like to be there when you and the lads ‘speak’ to that person.”
So bloodthirsty.
“Dad, talk to your wife.”
I don’t have time to talk Mum back off the ledge of vengeance that she’s perched on right now. If left unattended, the woman will start sniffing around like a bloodhound, and there’s no telling what she will do if she ever finds the person responsible.
She’s a lady, but I’ve seen her angered, and believe me, when that happens, the lass from Blackpool comes up swinging and ready to fight to the death.
“Oh no. Sorry lad, but I married a woman who knows her way around a good fight. I like my balls just where they are thanks. Now stop scowling and smile. You’ll scare Ducky bloody half to death the way you look right now.”
I obey, but only just and smile wider when we enter the room to find her pacing slowly, Angelica mewling contentedly as she hums softly to her.
“You ready then, baby?”
I’ve been using any and all endearments lately in the hopes that she’ll feel more secure with me the more I show her this easy affection. It’s working by the looks of her radiant smile, and I feel another piece of my heart break off and land at her feet.
“Yup. Angel had breakfast, and now she’s just about ready for a nap. Have you called Alec yet?”
She keeps asking, and I keep putting her off because I’m afraid that if her brother comes over he’ll somehow convince her to go home with him and that I can’t have. I also don’t want him telling her the truth about Angelica’s parentage because it gives me the sweats just thinking that she’d take my daughter and I will never see any of them again.
“Yeah. He’s out of town on an internship at present, and I know how leery you are of disturbing his studies, baby. Don’t worry. As soon as he’s free, I’ll get him over for a visit.”
That does the trick, as always, and I release a sigh when she smiles at Mum and Dad and starts chattering about Angelica.
“You ready to go home, baby?”
Her smile is bright enough to light up the room when she turns to me and nods. “Yeah. Home.”
Is it too early to tell her that my home is now hers and the little bundle cradled to her heart? I want to say it so badly, and yet I’m unable as her eyes take me in, devoid of her previous fire and unshakable shyness.
I want my woman back.
Chapter Twenty Two
Shaw
It’s been exactly ten weeks since I woke up in that hospital bed and learned that not only do I have a husband, no fiancé who I am on the verge of marrying, but that I’m a mother, too.
It feels weird and yet as comfortable as slipping on an old pair of my favorite sweats. I spend my days walking the gardens with Margery, or the ever-present Cameron, or trying to jump-start my memories.
Cameron has cautioned me against that because they don’t want me stressing right now and setting myself further back. It’s also not good to be stressed while I’m breastfeeding and trying to stay sane with the feeding schedule, and the still sore muscles in my stomach that have yet to heal remind me to tell you what a caesarean does to your body. Horror story!
So yeah, I’m trying, really trying, to keep myself from worrying over much and keeping myself on an even keel with everything going on around me.
It’s weird and strangely intoxicating to go to sleep cradled against Cameron’s chest when I don’t remember anything about meeting him or how we fell in love.
God, I would have thought that my life goals would have vetoed even the idea of dating, never mind falling for the guy and moving an ocean away from home, but apparently I loved him so much I’d left it all behind to follow him here. Strange and yet a thrilling love story that I keep filling in with every day that passes.
They won’t tell me anything because the doctors want me to remember it all on my own, but that doesn’t stop me from imaging the scenes and embellishing with a romantic streak that’s, quite frankly, embarrassing in its girlishness.
I imagine him seeing me across a crowded room and falling so madly in love with me that he couldn’t bear another moment wit
hout telling me how gorgeous I am. And then I imagine him sweeping me off my feet in an epic love story that makes the Titanic look pale in comparison.
Sometimes I find myself wondering what the sex would be like. Cameron is a very vital, muscular, totally sexy specimen, believe me, I get to sleep on all that hotness, so I sorta think that we must be really hot together if he’s still playing with my boobs while he sleeps.
One time I’d woken hot and bothered with one of his hands rubbing my…bits and another squeezing my breast, his huge erection drilling onto the crack of my ass, and I’d almost given in to the need to turn around and see where this would take us.
Unfortunately, my boob had a mind of its own—anytime it feels stimulation it starts leaking like a freaking geyser—and I’d had no choice but to wiggle out of his arms and go do something about the milk river.
Now I’m just….
Is it okay for me to be super-attracted to a guy I don’t remember? I mean, he is the father of my baby. And my body remembers him, even if my mind doesn’t, and I’m…needy.
I spend as much time fantasizing about his hands and mouth and…other parts as I do anything else. The only thing stopping me from doing anything is debilitating shyness and the fear that my body is so weird after the baby that I’m considering a girdle to keep that hot mess in check.
“You’re looking flushed, Ducky. Come here. Are you feverish? We should get you to the doctor.”
“Stop, Cameron.” I growl, slapping at his hands. “I’m fine. Seriously.” Just hot in the crotch with nowhere to go, I think silently, taking in his casual slacks and the tight polo shirt he seems to favor.
“Sorry. I’m just—”
“Being way too attentive right now. I’m eating. The doctor gave me the all clear yesterday and my tummy is only just tender. Everything’s healed okay and I feel good. Only my brain isn’t cooperating, but the thing is so stubborn I’m not surprised.”
I want to ask him a million questions, like how I feel, who was there, and…just general things about our life together. But it’s a waste of breath and just so frustrating that I’m focusing on the here and now instead of stressing him out. The guy gets manic if he thinks I’m upset.
“I’m just concerned. You’ve been absentminded all morning. Talk to me, baby. Please.”
We’re in the sitting room between our room and the nursery, our usual walk having been put on hold with the rain that’s battering the windows. Margery and Victor are out, searching for some elusive antique, and Molly and Kent are back home, planning their wedding.
So it’s just the two of us and Mrs. Tokes, the nanny Cameron insisted on. She’s downstairs waiting for Angel to scream her imperious summons.
“Shaw.”
Oh gosh.
My cheeks heat, and I scrunch my nose, feeling lost and vulnerable as I look at him and his earnest face, his eyes all but begging me for something.
“Sex. I’ve been thinking about sex,” I squeak, blushing when his eyes drop to my breasts and go lower before coming back up to meet mine. “I mean, we’re engaged, and we have a baby, so I’m assuming we liked, er, doing that, but the thing is I don’t even remember it. I was a virgin and…”
I blush again when he clears his throat and drops his eyes, hiding that deep blue gaze from me.
“Were we…did we like, you know?”
“Very much, baby. In fact, the night you fell, you teased me half to distraction before skipping off on that hunt,” he admits, bringing his hooded gaze back to mine. “We’re great in bed. Fantastic in fact.”
“Then why, um, why don’t you ever touch me? You buss my lips quickly and then…God, this is so embarrassing.”
“It shouldn’t be. Not between us. We belong to each other,” he says with a growl, making me shiver at that commanding tone. “You can tell me anything.”
“Okay. Uh, do you still find me attractive after…?” I wave at my soft belly. “Because I read up about it on the internet and they say that a lot of men struggle to adjust to the changes that their significant other’s body goes through, and I mean, I’ve looked in the mirror.”
“No. That is not a problem you should ever worry about. You’ll always be sexy to me. You brought my child into the world with that body. It will always be perfect to me. Always.”
Phew!
“So then, do you think we could maybe try to be together? I’d really like to know, you know, if you want to do that. With me. Sometime.”
I look up from my clenched hands to see him up and pacing, his tented slacks making a clenching need unfurl deep in my belly. It’s strange, but as unfamiliar as a lot of things are, Cameron and the things I feel when I look at him feel, perfect, as if my body recognizes its mate and wants him back, memory or no memory.
“Christ. I want to, baby, so badly I wake up with my hands on your…but the doctors were clear. I don’t want to take advantage and cause you more pain than you’ve already been through.”
That makes sense. Too much sense. More sense than my bits are willing to see right now, and I tell him so. Screw embarrassment and the fear that I’ve been nursing for days. I want, no need something to stop this drifting feeling that makes me so anxious sometimes I can’t breathe.
He’s my anchor.
I need him to keep me from drifting away.
“I need a connection. Sometimes when you smile a certain way I think I remember seeing that look, but then it all drifts away and I’m left feeling so afraid. And I walk around needing to tell you something, I don’t know what, but it seems so important that when I can’t remember it I start panicking and—”
“It’s alright, love. Ssh, no, don’t fret,” he says with a croon, taking me in his arms and kissing my face tenderly. “I’d never let anyone hurt you. Not ever.”
“No. I know. But it won’t go away, and every time I feel that way, I have this need to just, touch you. You make me feel stable and safe, and I need…I want that all back. I want to share myself with you, too,” I whisper, willing him to understand.
I’m surrounded all the time, never alone, and yet I feel so apart from everyone that it terrifies me. What if I never remember anything? What if I’m destined to go through life with all that time gone, vanished as if it never happened.
“Oh, Ducky.”
“See! I can’t even remember why you all call me that, and it drives me nuts! I want that all back, and I know that there’s a chance that will never happen so, I thought we should start making new memories.”
Maybe then I won’t feel like I’m about to float away.
Cameron’s sighs and pulls me into his arms, his lips pressed firmly to my temple, his body quaking.
“I’ll give you anything you want, baby. Anything.”
“Good. Can I have you?”
He smiles, a wry twist of his lips that shows me how amusing my question is and sets my nerves zinging in that bittersweet way that tugs at the periphery of my memory.
“You already have me, baby. You’ve had me since the moment I laid eyes on you; I just didn’t know it. Now go feed the ravenous beast. Tonight. I’ll make love to you tonight.”
Chapter Twenty Three
Cam
I’m bloody more nervous than I was the first time a girl let me touch her boobs. My palms are sweating, along with every other part of me, and my breathing is racing as fast as my out of control heart.
I feel like I’m about to go out there and destroy her trust, and yet, even as I try to convince myself that this is wrong, I can’t stop from needing to do this as much as I know she needs me to.
This intimacy is an opportunity to lay the foundation for the emotions I’m striving to build. I want her to love me. I need her to because, despite my very best efforts to the contrary, I now realize that my behavior stemmed from nothing more than jealousy and the rage that Robert had once again had something that I needed.
I wanted to be the one to meet her first and fall for all that innocent beauty. I wanted her to see
me at the bar, and I wanted her to want to be with me at that moment.
I wanted it to have been my seed growing in her, declaring to the world that I had claimed her for my own and that no other would ever touch something that perfect.
I have that chance now because the slate is clean. I’ll be her first, her last, her everything after this, and I need that more than I need to buckle under the guilt.
I want her to experience this and look at me in wonder and love, as if I’ve hung the moon and sent her to the very stars. And selfish bastard that I am, I will take this, hoping and praying that she never recovers her memory.
Yeah, it’s wrong, but it’s all I have now that I’ve ripped my chest open and given her my heart, bloody and beating only for her.
“Cameron? Are you okay in there?”
I shake myself and take one last look at myself before opening the bathroom door and stepping into the room, my mouth going dry at the sight of her under the sheets, the creamy swells of her naked breasts hinting at the nudity awaiting me.
“God, you’re gorgeous.”
Her cheeks take on a pink tinge, and I smirk, feeling ten feet tall when she bites her lip and flicks the sheet away to reveal her lush form, glowing, waiting for me and the pleasure I plan to give her.
“So are you,” she whispers nervously.
Her breasts are huge, round globes of blue-veined alabaster, the reddened nipples standing hard and proud, just begging for my mouth. I look lower and gasp at the sight of her slightly splayed legs and the wet heat awaiting me.
My control is slipping even as I try to rein myself in because I want to pounce and devour her, stamp myself on her so deeply and indelibly that even if the worst should happen and she remembers, she will crave me against her mind’s dictates.
I say nothing more, because I can’t speak without letting the animalistic growls trapped in my throat escape, and crawl up onto the bed, my nose skimming her skin, smelling and touching her on the way up to her mouth.
The kiss I give her is a soft melding of closed lips and heated breath, a greeting, a calming caress that soon turns into a gasping, open-mouthed dueling of tongues and scraping of teeth.
CALLIE (The Naughty Ones Book 1) Page 23
