wcEND.rtf (5 page)

Panic grew inside her. Should she tel
l
him the truth? That she had somehow taken over his wife's body with the help of a magical chalice? Isabel immediately dismissed the idea. He would most probably think her insane and God knew what dire consequences such confession would bring upon her. These were the Middle Ages! Though people were much more mystical now than in modern times, dabbling in magic would equal worshiping the devil, or such nonsense. Isabel was not about to make her life more difficult than it already was.

"I'm afraid you are right," she said, though she neglected to explain that she didn't remember him because she didn't know him.

He narrowed his eyebrows in obvious doubt. "Do you remember anything at all or is it just me you forgot?"

What an odd question to ask. "I remember nothing."

He stared at her as if trying to read her mind or search her soul. Isabel shivered under his dark stare
.
"Your heart halted its beating for a while," he said, as if that would explain her amnesia. "I thought you dead. Do you remember that?"

"Dead?" Isabel staggered back.
Détra's heart had stopped?
Good God, had the woman died, her spirit lost somewhere as Isabel took over her body? Had her thoughtless wish sent Détra into an early demise? She immediately chased the thought away, not able to deal with such a scenario.

And then another terrifying thought assailed her. If Détra was dead, what had happened to Isabel's body? Was she dead also? If that were true, Isabel would be stuck here forever. There wouldn't be a body to return to.

She wouldn't accept that. She and Détra must have exchanged bodies. What other way could they undo this
travesty? Was Détra freaking out in her body? Would she have the good sense to try to find a way to undo the exchange? Isabel was certain of one thing; like her, Détra would have no wish to be chained to a body, a place and a life that didn't belong to her.

So distracted was Isabel with her thoughts that she didn't even notice Hunter had helped her to a chair by the fireplace until he gently lowered her to its cushioned seat.

"All I remember," Isabel mumbled, "is waking up in a strange place, with a strange man, not knowing who I am."

He kneeled by her side. "I am no stranger. I am your husband. You have been through a terrible ordeal, but all shall be well soon."

Thankful for his understanding, albeit misguided
,
Isabel's gaze strayed around the room, catching sight of the chalice on the table. Her heart stopped for a moment and she stifled a cry of recognition. Good God! She'd been holding that chalice when she'd had the vision, when she'd made that stupid wish, when she'd fallen unconscious. Had Détra also held it here in her own time? Made a wish, maybe? Was the vision Isabel had seen, in fact, Détra's wish? Was Hunter aware of what had happened? He didn't seem to be.

Her attention was brought back to the man in question when he lifted a strand of hair away from her face, and his knuckles gently skimmed her cheek, eliciting in her too strong of a response for such brief touch from a stranger.

"Oh!" The half moan, half whisper escaped Isabel's throat as goose bumps spread down her arms. It must be this body, she reasoned. It just reacted to an obviously known touch. It had nothing to do with her. She hardly knew the man; she couldn't be attracted to him. Could she?

"You must get rid of this sodden chemise." His rough, callused palm drifted over her shoulder. "Your skin is cold and you tremble."

Isabel swallowed hard. The smoldering look he sent her way was undeniable. She'd been married before; she knew that look.

She pushed to her feet. "You're right, I'm really cold." She ambled to the table, to the chalice, but before she reached it, the man spun her around to face him. His hand rested on her shoulder again,

"You speak oddly.
Do you feel wel
l
?"

"Well?" No, she didn't feel well at all. "Not really. I'
d
—" she paused. She must try to speak without contractions, more in tune with his speech. "I would like to rest a little. I am very tired." She smiled to look more agreeable. "Maybe later we could talk and maybe you could help me remember my past."

Of course she wouldn't te
ll
him she planned to be far, far away by then.

******************

D
É
TRA
H
AD
G
RINNED
A
T
H
IM.
S
HE
H
AD
N
EVER
G
RINNED at him before. A stunned Hunter rose to his feet and moved to stand before his lady. The uncertain way she looked at him and around herself corroborated her claimed confusion. The lack of disdain in her eyes after she recovered consciousness, even when she fought him, also puzzled him. She looked none the worse and yet there was something indefinably different about her. Even her speech was odd, not the timbre or tone, but the rhythm and cadence of her voice, her odd choice of words, her less than formal speech.

Should he believe her claim of memory loss? Or was she trying to befuddle and dupe him, surely with the intent of continuing to deny his marital rights?

Hunter had not missed Détra's interest in the chalice the moment she sighted it on the table. Did she remember more than she wanted him to believe?

Looking into her green eyes, eyes oddly bereft of scorn for him, the vision the chalice revealed returned vividly to his mind. And the intoxicating thought took. Mayhap the chalice had granted his heart wish, after all. A second chance to begin anew with his lady wife.

Hunter was not a man to turn his back on good fortune. And fortune seemed to be smiling at him.

And yet Détra had asked for his help to remember. Should he reveal the unpleasant details of their marriage, knowing the truth would only deepen the chasm between them? Or should he use this opportunity to finally make good on what seemed a hopeless marriage, even if he colored the truth a little?

His conscience warred with his heart.

Noticing her trembling, however, he postponed the decision. She would sicken if she remained in wet clothing. "I shall send Maude to aid you," he said. They could speak later, when she was rested.

He reached for the chalic
e
—
h
e had not forgotten about it, and there was no way he would leave it with he
r
— when she lay a hand on his arm.

"I do not even recall your name," she whispered.

Her touch bored holes through his garment, searing his skin and unleashing his desire. He fought against the urge to pull her flush to his body and kiss her lips in full for the first time. And Lord help him! He wanted her to kiss him back as badly. Wanted it with such force he could almost taste her from where he stood.

With the possibility she could finally fulfill his heart wish, his desire for her flourished, becoming fiercer and more demanding.

He cleared his throat before he spoke. "Hunter is my name." He was certain his voice faltered.

"Hunter," she whispered.

The sweet sound vibrated in his ears. Détra had rarely called him by his name.

Whether her gesture was meant to distract him mattered not at this point. He grabbed the chalice, and before he made a fool of himself, he left the bedchamber, closing the door swiftly behind his back.

******************

"MY LORD?"

Hunter gathered his thoughts and pushed away from the door.

"The healer is here," Maude said. "How is my lady?" Her voice was laden with worry.

Maude must have just returned from the village if she had not seen Détra's mad dash through the great hall and her return on his shoulder, Hunter thought.

"My lady wife has recovered from her ordeal," he said.

"Oh, blessed is the Lord!" Maude fe
l
l to her knees, making the sign of the cross in thanksgiving.

"Amen," Hunter responded automatically, as he took in the healer's ragged appearance, her medicinal bag crossed over her chest, filled with lifesaving herbs and potions. Mayhap even a potion to recover lost memories.

"I thank you for coming," Hunter told the healer. "But your presence is no longer needed."

"Mayhap I should still have a look at her," the healer said, eyeing him with shrewd eyes.

"
There is no need," Hunter retorted. "Go to the cook and have your fill of whatever you fancy, then go look for Godfrey, the steward, and he shall reward you for your troubles."

After a little hesitation, the healer nodded and left.

"May I see her?" Maude asked.

"Aye, but first I wish to speak with you." Now that he had gotten rid of the healer, Hunter turned his attention back to Maude. "After this morning's ordeal, Détra is in a most fragile state of mind. I bid you to aid her in regaining her strength and health, and refrain from speaking of disagreeable matters in her presence. I wish not to upset her unduly."

"Certainly, my lord. I shall do all in my power to aid my lady. I hold her in great esteem."

"I know you do." He paused. "So do I."

Maude caught Hunter's gaze for a brief momen
t
—
a
n odd fact considering servants rarely faced their lords. But before she lowered her gaze again, Hunter saw the pleading in it. "May I ask a boon of you, my lord?"

Hunter nodded, wondering what she could possibly want.

"Please be tolerant of my lady's ways. She has suffered much in her life. I truly believe she shall come to appreciate your caring for her."

Hunter cringed. Even the servants knew of D
é
tra's coldness toward him. How much more did they know? Did Maude know about their unconsummated marriage? Shame washed over him and he had to bite his tongue not to lash out at Maude. It was not her fault her lady had been a most difficult woman to woo.

Mayhap he could enlist Maude's aid in his plan of conquest. The maid seemed on his side, judging by her last comment.

"There is something else you should know about your lady," Hunter said. "She remembers naught of her life."

"How can that be possible?"

Hunter shrugged. "I know not. A consequence of striking her head, I imagine. However, it is my wish that neither her heal
th
nor the fragile understanding between us be imperiled by rehashing unpleasant matters."

"It is most understandi
n
g of you, my lord."

Encouraged, Hunter continued, "Lady Détra and I are husband and wife, and I wish a peaceful and harmonious life for us. Can
.
I count on your aid?"

Maude shot him a knowing glance. "I shall do your bidding, my lord. I wish the best for my lady."

Hunter nodded and stepped away from the door. He had a chance to right the wrong of his marriage with Détra, and by all that was holy, he would not waste it.

CLUTCHING the edge of the table, Isabel stared in despair at the shut door after Hunter disappeared behind it carrying with him the only known means to her freedom. Damn! She thought she'd fooled him; obviously she thought wrong. Not even her last attempt to distract him had worked.

And now the chalice was gone.

She had to follow him.

Thought led to action and Isabel marched to the door, opened it a crack, and then swiftly closed it back again.