The next day
Bellwood Estate
Derbyshire, England
Her eyes opened to a beautiful blue sky. No, not a real sky, but a breathtaking mural. Like gazing up at the heavens. Rays of sunlight peeked from behind fluffy white clouds that seemed to be chasing each other. The mural extended down the wall to just above the bed headboard with a glorious scene depicting a three-storied, pastoral manor bordered by delicate lavender wisteria and roses in various shades of pink. She was especially drawn to the image of a majestic oak tree on the emerald, green grounds, a whimsical child’s swing hanging from a sturdy branch.
She smiled and breathed out a deep sigh.
What a lovely painting.
She shifted in the bed and gasped at the sudden sharp throbbing at the back of her head. Tentatively, her fingers touched the raised bump covered in a thick bandage.
“Where am I?” she whispered, choking on a gasp as another sharp pain twisted her ribcage. “Oh, goodness, that hurts!” she cried out. With every movement, a new agonizing ache made itself known. A slight snore from somewhere to her right seized her attention and she sat up and promptly plunked back down as the world started to spin. Closing her eyes, she breathed deeply, trying to minimize the misery radiating from every muscle.
“Selena, you’re awake,” a deep, sleep-roughened male voice said, coming from the same direction of the snore. “Selena, are you all right? Can you speak?”
Her eyelids fluttered open, and she regarded the man connected to the voice. He hovered over her, his face a study in concern.
“Selena?” she croaked and cleared her throat. “Please. Water?”
Swiftly the man filled a cup with water from a pitcher on the bedside table and, carefully sliding his arm under her shoulders, eased her up so she could sip.
She drained the glass and nodded her thanks. “Who is S-selena?”
“You’re Selena,” he said.
“I am Selena?” She stared at him, although she had no idea what she wanted to see. He appeared kind and he gazed directly at her.Why can’t I remember my name?She only had his word for it, but he seemed honest enough. She should be upset. She should be crying. But oddly, she found herself quite calm at this revelation. Perhaps because the pain radiating throughout her body left little room to feel anything else.
“You don’t remember who you are?”
Slowly, she shook her head.
His face creased with concern which was a pity because he had a very nice face. More than very nice. He was extremelyhandsome—so tall and with such broad shoulders. His dark hair, like sable, curled around his collar. How endearing. As though he’d forgotten to have it trimmed. But it was his eyes, warm and brown like fine brandy, that captivated her. She had a ridiculous urge to stare into his eyes for hours.
“You arrived last evening in the middle of a freezing rainstorm,” he continued. “Your horse became spooked by my dog and threw you. Your head hit a rock when you fell.”
She reached up and felt the egg-shaped bump again. She could feel a raised ridge on top of the bump that felt like stitches. “That explains why everything hurts from my head to my toes.”
“I can imagine.” He smiled.
Lord, his smile makes him even more handsome. How is that even possible?
“Do you recall anything that happened last night?”
She closed her eyes and tried as hard as she could to remember. But her mind was a complete blank. “I don’t—” Her reply was interrupted by a very loud growl, coming from the vicinity of her stomach. Her cheeks heated with a blush. “Forgive me. My mind may have forgotten everything, but my stomach clearly remembers.”
He chuckled. “Do you feel like you could keep food down?
“I could try.”
“Good, because my cook, Mrs. McDonald, is anxious to make you anything and everything you’d like. He reached for the bell pull and tugged.
A soft knock sounded on the door a few moments later.
“Enter.”
A petite young maid stepped into the room and bobbed a curtsey. “Yes, my lord?”
