Into His Private Domain

He shrugged, adjusting a dial. “Politicians, movie stars… Fortune 500 CEOs.”

Something must have shown on her face, because his expression grew fierce. “Having wealth doesn’t make a person’s right to privacy any less important. I’m fortunate enough to have the means to give them anonymity and quality medical care.”

She held up her hands. “I didn’t say a word.”

“You were thinking it.” He motioned to the machine. “Have a seat. There’s nothing to be afraid of. You won’t be closed in.”

She sat gingerly on the narrow bench and tensed as he slid rubber wedges on either side of her head, immobilizing her skull in a semicircle of metal. The camera thingy rotated around her upper body in several quick passes, and it was all over.

Jacob waved her into a chair. “Now I’ll show you the inside of your head. Hopefully we won’t see anything too alarming.”

She sat down gingerly. “As long as you find a brain… that’s all I ask.”

He chuckled, but didn’t speak as he brought up the 3-D images on the screen. Gracie waited, her heart pumping madly. Jacob examined the results with the occasional unintelligible murmur.

Gracie lost patience. “Well?”

He pushed back his chair and turned to face her. “I don’t see anything alarming… no fractures… nothing to require further medical attention. You have swelling, of course, as a result of the blow to your head, but even that is in the normal range.”

She bit her lip, disappointment roiling in her stomach. If there was nothing to substantiate her amnesia, Gareth would think, more than ever, that she was liar.

Jacob seemed to read her thoughts. “Absence of fractures doesn’t discount your current situation. All jokes aside, temporary amnesia is more common than you might think. And we have every reason to think it will resolve itself naturally.”

“But when?” she cried, springing to her feet. “How can I go to sleep tonight and not know who the hell I am?”

Jacob leaned back and linked his hands behind his head. “You do know who you are,” he said gently. “You’re Gracie Darlington. It may take a little while for your brain to accept that as fact. But it will happen. I promise.”

Gracie stewed inwardly as he finished his exam. As expected, the X-ray of her leg showed no sign of any damage other than the bad cut.

After a quick check of temp, blood pressure and a few other markers, Jacob patted her shoulder. “You’ll live,” he teased.

They walked back through the house and found Gareth sprawled on an ivory leather sofa. The thick, onyx carpet underfoot was a sea of inky, lush luxury.

Gareth bounded to his feet. “Sit here,” he commanded Gracie. “I want to talk to my brother.”

Despite the fact that they lowered their voices, Gracie heard every word.

Gareth grilled her doctor. “Well… could you tell if the amnesia is for real?”

Jacob muttered a curse. “This isn’t an exact science, Gareth. All her symptoms fit the profile. But I can’t give you any hard-and-fast answers. My medical opinion is yes, she’s very likely telling us the truth. That’s the good news. The bad news is that amnesia is a tricky bastard. It might be tomorrow morning or next week before she gets it all back.” He paused and grimaced. “It could be several months. We have no way of knowing.”

“Bloody hell.”

Gareth’s heartfelt disgust lodged like a thorn in Gracie’s heart.

Jacob walked back into the living room, giving Gracie a gentle smile. “Take her home and put her to bed,” he said to his brother. “Things always look better in the morning.”

Three

Put her to bed. Gareth tensed inwardly as images teased his brain. Him. Gracie. Tumbling with abandon between the sheets on his comfortable king-size mattress. He’d never brought a woman into his bedroom on Wolff Mountain. Whenever his physical needs overrode his phenomenal control, he sought out one of a handful of women who were as much loners as he was. Mature women who weren’t interested in relationships.

But the last such encounter had been ages ago. And the Wolff was hungry. Put a red hood on Gracie, and she’d be in big trouble. Or maybe she was in trouble already. Taking advantage of a damsel in distress wasn’t his style, but then again, he had never felt such a visceral and instantaneous response to a woman.

He wanted her desperately, and they had only met. At some anonymous bar in a big city he could have invited her back to his room. But this was Wolff Mountain, and different rules applied. Though he was a reluctant host, he had no business lusting after her.

She stood up, her expression half defiance, half vulnerability. “Couldn’t I stay here, Jacob? You know… in case anything happens.”

“No way.” Gareth blurted it out, uncensored.

Jacob and Gracie stared at him.

He shrugged, refusing to admit he had a proprietary interest in the redhead. “Jacob’s a soft touch.” He directed his remarks to Gracie. “I want you where I can keep an eye on you.”

Jacob frowned at his brother. “Gareth’s bark is worse than his bite, Gracie. He’ll take good care of you. But don’t worry. I’ll be around in the morning to see how you’re doing.” He put an arm around her shoulders and squeezed. “Try not to worry. Everything will be fine. I’d stake my license on it.”

Gareth ushered Gracie back out to the Jeep, this time letting her walk on her own. He’d liked holding her too damn much. It was best to keep his distance.

The short ride back was silent. Temperatures had dropped, and out of the corner of his eye, he saw Gracie pull the blankets to her chin. When they arrived at the house, he realized that he was actually going to have to be hospitable. And since she swayed on her feet from exhaustion, he shouldn’t waste any time.

He motioned for her to follow him. At the insistence of his architect brother Kieran, Gareth had agreed to a five-bedroom home. The square footage had seemed like a useless expenditure during construction… and now, four of the bedrooms sat unoccupied. But at least for tonight, Gracie would have a place to lay her head.

He showed her the suite that would be hers… for a very short time, he promised himself. Too long, and his iron control might snap. “The bathroom is through that door.” Even now his hands trembled with the need to touch her.

He eyed her clothing. She was still wearing the simple cotton blouse and jeans she’d had on when she arrived. “I’ll find something for you to sleep in. Tomorrow we’ll work on getting you some clothes.”

When he returned two minutes later with one of his old T-shirts, Gracie was still in the same spot, her expression stark, haunted. Unwillingly his heart contracted. If she was telling the truth about her amnesia, she must be scared as hell. But sweet and courageous, and so damned appealing in her determination not to break down. The reluctant admiration he felt had to be squashed.

When he brushed her arm, she jumped, as if she had been a million miles away. He offered the substitute sleepwear. “Sorry I can’t do better. You’ll find toiletries in the drawers and on the counter. I let my cousin do the decorating, and she promised me that no bathroom was complete without all sorts of smelly soaps and doodads. Help yourself.”

Gracie took the shirt and held it, white-knuckled. “Will you be in your bedroom?”

God help him. He knew she meant nothing by her artless question, but it shook him. “Yeah. As soon as I lock up and turn out the lights.” He paused, feeling uncustomarily conflicted, since he rarely second-guessed himself. “Remember… I’m just around the corner. Maybe if you leave a light on, things won’t seem so strange.”

She nodded her head slowly. “Okay.”

Something about her posture was heartbreaking. She was doing nothing to deliberately manipulate his sympathies, but the bravery in her narrow shoulders set so straight and the uplifted tilt of her chin touched him in a way he hadn’t thought possible.

He hardened his heart. “Good night, Gracie.”

She heard the door shut quietly behind him and felt tears burn her eyes. It took great effort, but she held them at bay by virtue of biting down on her bottom lip and swallowing hard. She refused to let Gareth see her exhibit weakness. He was a hard, suspicious man, despite his physical appeal.

Even so, she wanted him. And the wanting scared her. She felt like the heroine of a dark, Gothic novel, left all alone with the brooding lord of a sprawling, mysterious house.

A glance at the clock sent her stumbling into the bathroom. No wonder she was so wiped out. It was late. Everything would look better in the morning. Darkness invariably bred bogeymen and unseen monsters. Her lack of memory fueled the fires of apprehension.

Gareth had told the truth about the facilities and accoutrements. The floor was inlaid with cream-colored marble veined in gold. An enormous mirror ran the entire length of one wall, showing Gracie reflection after reflection of a strange woman with unkempt hair and no makeup.

Jacob had covered her stitches with a waterproof bandage. Doggedly she stripped off her clothing and climbed into the enormous polished granite enclosure that boasted three showerheads and a steam valve. The hot water pelted her back and rained over her arms and legs. She bowed her head, braced her hands against the wall and cried.