He wished Maddy hadn’t run off; he wanted to tell her the good news. Not just that he’d gotten his memory back, but that he was her new landlord and her worries were over. She could stay here rent-free for the rest of her life. It was the least he could do for the woman who’d saved his life.
If only she’d waited one minute . . .
What instructions?
Harris’s exact words had beenI’ve received instructions from the new owner.
Nash hadn’t had any correspondence with Harris at all, least of all about raising rents. If Harris was lining his pockets with illegal rent increases, he was in for an unpleasant surprise.
Was Harris the “Bloody Abbot,” and if so, why? Making money on the side, Nash could understand, but terrorizing a woman and children? And while Maddy and the children were in the slightest danger of being terrorized again, Nash couldn’t leave them.
It was a problem. The moment he told Maddy he had his memory back, she’d insist he leave. Especially since, as it turned out, he had a large house down the road with a dozen beds or more. Why would she let him remain in her bed?
He liked being in her bed. He liked it more than he should.
More than he had with any other woman.
In fact . . . it slowly dawned on him . . . he didn’t want to leave her at all.
How the hell had that happened?
He’d always kept his dealings with women light—no strings, no commitment—choosing as his paramours ladies who wanted it that way as well. It was his rule: light, superficial fun, and nobody getting hurt.
This . . . this whatever-it-was with Maddy Woodford wasn’t light or superficial at all. It was heading into seas he’d never navigated before, seas he’d managed to steer clear of his entire life, and he wasn’t about to start now.
But if he realized the danger in time—and he had—he could act.
Thank God he’d gotten his memory back. Forgetting his own name wasn’t nearly as bad as forgetting the danger Maddy Woodford posed to his peace of mind.
Thank God she’d had sense enough to stop him when he’d tried to entice her into making love. A few kisses didn’t matter, even if kissing her affected him like no other kisses had. It was probably a side effect of the amnesia.
He could still get out, save himself, save them both from an entanglement neither of them needed. He would. He’d go to Whitethorn this very afternoon.
But what if Maddy and the children faced another night of terror?
Dammit, he couldn’t let that happen.
No choice, really. He had to stay on here. He’d set a trap, catch the bastard, and get him securely locked away, transported to the other side of the world. Then Maddy and the children would be safe and he could leave with a clear conscience.
He’d keep the recovery of his memory to himself a little longer. It wouldn’t be a lie, exactly, just a withholding of the whole truth.
And in the meantime, he’d make sure he kept the luscious Maddy Woodford at a safe distance.
“Miss Woodford, this is for you,” he said when Maddy returned to the cottage. He handed her a banknote.
She took it without thinking, but when she looked at what she had, her jaw dropped. “Ten pounds? What for?”
“Call it bed and board.”
She stared at the crisp new banknote. “Ten pounds? But that’s a ridiculous amount for a few days’ accommodation and food—you’ve hardly eaten anything anyway.”
Why was she arguing? He had money, and God knew she needed it. But ten pounds was a huge sum for three nights in a bed and a bit of soup and stew.
Ten pounds was more than the annual salary for a maidservant.
And he had a head injury. She didn’t want to take advantage.
“Take it,” he said, “and let there be no more talk of sending me to the vicar’s.” He saw her expression and added, “Just until I get my memory back, of course.”
