Miranda

“You’ll be safe with me,” he said.

“I want to believe you, but I do not know you. I cannot go with you.” She shivered. “It’s awful here, but it’s familiar. It’s all that I know.”

“Believe me,” he whispered, lowering his mouth toward hers, wanting just a taste of her. “Do, Miranda. Believe me.”

His mouth hovered closer. She gasped and parted her lips slightly. At the last second, he changed his mind. He must not kiss her. He knew better than to kiss a woman when he wanted her this badly. He brushed his lips across her brow. “I’ll keep you safe,” he heard himself whisper, not knowing whether or not he was lying. “I’ll keep you safe.”

She glided her hands up his chest, pressing closer, skimming his shoulders.

He hissed and broke away, barking a curse. His shoulder was on fire, and for a moment he saw nothing but a red haze of pain.

“Mr. MacVane!” Miranda cried. “What happened?”

“My shoulder, lass. I was burned in the fire.”

“You were in the fire?” she asked. “My fire?”

“Aye, lass, if you’re claiming it.”

“Lass,” she whispered, wonder dawning on her face. “It was you, wasn’t it?”

“That depends on what you’re accusing me of.”

“You’re the man in the flames. You called me lass. You pulled me to safety. Gave me your coat.”

“Aye,” he said again, wishing his shoulder would stop throbbing.

“You ran off to help a small child, and that was the last I saw of you.” She shuddered. “The watchman said you had both perished.”

“The watchman turned out to be quite unreliable.”

“You would have come back for me, but you were unable?” she asked, unwittingly making it easy for him to deceive her.

“Injured,” he admitted. “Not mortally, as you can see.”

“Thank God. How is the child?”

“Robbie is fine. Some bumps and bruises, a burned hand that’s healing nicely.”

She subjected him to a wide-eyed, wondering look that made him feel as if he had grown a foot taller. “How grateful his mother must be.”

“Robbie’s an orphan. He had been staying at a flash house, where they were training him as a cutpurse.” Ian decided not to tell her the worst of it, the other things they were forcing Robbie to do. “He ran away from there and was living alone in an abandoned building.”

“How sad. What will become of him?”

“After my assistant, McDuff, tutors him, Robbie’ll be bound for public school, perhaps university.” An old dream flickered in Ian’s mind. A lad like Robbie should live free, racing through Highland dales and shouting with laughter, just as Ian had so many years ago.

Miranda clasped her hands to her chest. “You kept the child.”

“He had nowhere to go.”

She crossed to the door.

“Miranda?” he asked. “Where are you going?”

“With you.”

“But you just said you wouldn’t.”

“I changed my mind.”

“What made you change your mind?”

She gave an incredulous laugh. “I have two choices. I can stay locked in this asylum. Or I can leave with a man who not only saved me from a fire, but rescued an orphaned child and is raising him to be a gentleman.”

“So you changed your mind because of my sterling character?”

“No.” An unexpected glint of humor winked in her smile. “It was your devastating blue eyes.”

Her wry statement caught him off guard. He stared at her for a moment, then started to laugh. To his amazement, she joined him. “And of course,” she said, “you’d never lie about something that can be so easily disproved.”

Dr. Beckworth appeared at the door. “Are you quite well, Miranda?”

She bathed him in a radiant smile that made the poor man all but squirm with delight. “Oh, indeed I am, Doctor. Surely your patience and care prepared me for a full recovery of my lost memory.”

It was all Ian could do to keep panic at bay. What was this? She remembered? If so, that meant she realized Ian MacVane was no part of her past.

“God be thanked.” The doctor raised his eyes heavenward.

Miranda rested her fingers on Ian’s sleeve and sent him an adoring look. “My dear fiancé will, of course, send a large endowment to the hospital.” She glanced at the women’s ward. “Enough for some sweeping improvements,” she added, and the subtlest note of warning hardened her voice. “Of course, I shall check on the progress of the reforms.”

With a decided spring in her step, she walked toward the main foyer. She stopped at the common room. “Things will get better here,” she said to the women.

Some of them looked up, waved and blew kisses. “We’ll take care, ducks,” Gwen assured her. “See if we don’t.”

“We still think you should kiss her,” said the old lady who thought he was Bonny Prince Charlie.

I still want to, Ian realized. He followed Miranda out, joining her amid the foot traffic on the street. He stared at her, filled with bafflement and delight that quickly froze into icy suspicion.

Just how much did she recall?

“You say you remember?” he demanded.

“Lies,” she said breezily, turning a giddy circle on the cobbled walk. “All lies.”

“But you did it so well,” he said, impressed. “I know of no one who lies quite so well, except perhaps—” He broke off, taking her elbow to steer her out of the path of a pieman’s cart.

“Except whom?” She had an engaging way of tilting her head and regarding him sidewise. The look was both charmingly naive and artlessly seductive.