The Princess Has Amnesia!

“I didn’t have much time to search the plane. The storm had worsened and once I found you, I thought best to get you somewhere dry. The temperature dropped ten degrees before we made it back here. You were pretty chilled. The only thing you have that might give a clue to your name is the charm around you neck. There are three initials, A.N.A., or it could also stand for the name Ana.”

She frowned. “Can we call the police or a forest ranger? Somebody?”

“Not possible. You picked a remote place to land. I have an off-road vehicle, but the road here washed out yesterday when this storm hit.”

“How will anyone find me?” Panic clouded her eyes, along with pain.

“If your pilot radioed his location, someone should be looking for you. But that could take a few days with these conditions.”

Jake turned to the sink, grabbed the pump handle and primed it until water shot out of the faucet. This place didn’t have any modern conveniences. Hell, it didn’t even have many of the basics. That was the charm for Jake. To be as far away from the world and its problems as he could get. But it looked like one of them had found him.

He filled the glass, took two ibuprofen from the first-aid kit and walked back to her. “Here, take these. They should help take the edge off.” He offered her two tablets.

She looked confused.

“They’re just over-the-counter painkillers. Can’t hurt you. Go on, take them. Your head has to be killing you.”

“It’s like someone’s using it as a drum,” she admitted, then took the medication and drank thirstily from the glass. She gave it back to him. “Thank you. Now, if you wouldn’t mind, I’d like to get dressed,” she said haughtily. “Would you please find me something to wear?” She looked down at the blanket.

The burning wood in the fireplace crackled and sparks shot out. The last thing Jake needed was to be reminded she was naked underneath, especially since he was the one who helped her get in that condition. His fingertips still could recall the feel of her soft skin. Forget it, Sanderstone, this woman’s trouble. You don’t mix well with the pampered princess type.

“I hate to disappoint you, but until your clothes dry out all I can offer you is one of my shirts and a pair of sweatpants.”

There was that defiant look again, then her features softened. “I’ll be appreciative of anything you can lend me.”

Jake went into the bedroom and pulled a faded chambray shirt from the closet and a pair of black sweatpants. He returned and handed the items to her.

She glanced around. “Is there some place I can wash up?”

“Sure. In the sink. But I wouldn’t suggest you exert yourself just yet. Remember you have a concussion.”

“I know I will feel much better if I can clean up some.” She tried to stand, but stumbled.

Jake reached out and caught her as she was about to go down. He wrapped his arms around her, trapping the downward slide of the blanket. The cloth barely covered her breasts and their fullness threatened to spill out. Oh, Lord help me.

“Okay, let’s get something straight. Until you can stand on your own, I’ll take care of you.”

“But…”

“There are no buts. I’m the boss here. If you want, I’ll let you arm wrestle me for the job.” He cocked an eyebrow to see how far she’d fight him.

“Not fair,” she mumbled.

“Well, hell, who told you life is fair?” He knew firsthand how ugly it could be out there in the trenches, starting with a childhood that had been spent on the rough side of New Orleans.

He liked it better here…alone.

“If only I could remember…something, my name,” she said.

“How about I just call you, sugar?” He grinned.

“Don’t you dare. It sounds like a country-and-western song.”

“Well, now is your chance. You pick a name.”

She fingered the charm around her neck. “How about Ana?”

She looked up at him with those rich blue eyes and instantly he knew that was her name. It fit her. Fit her beauty…her courage…even her irritating stubbornness.

Never wavering from her mesmerizing gaze, he took the shirt and held it out for her. She managed to slip one arm into the sleeve while continuing to grasp the blanket. Then he wrapped the shirt around her back and she put her other arm in. He closed the front and did up the buttons. Once he finished, the blanket fell to the floor. Oh man, this woman was going to make him crazy. “I have socks for your feet.”

He guided her to the couch and sat her down, then went back to the bedroom. He rummaged through his drawers and found the last clean pair of white athletic socks. He needed to do laundry. He returned to the couch to find his guest curled up on her side, sound asleep. She had gone through a lot of trauma this morning. Maybe it was a blessing she couldn’t remember what happened in the crash. Life’s tragedies often turned into nightmares.

Trying not to disturb her sleep, he worked the socks over her dirty, but delicate feet. There was dried mud on her calves too, but she could wash up later, he thought, tugging the white fabric up her shapely leg.

“Seems we’re getting pretty familiar, sugar.” He smiled, but didn’t feel any mirth. She hadn’t liked him calling her that. Good. It made her angry. That’s exactly what he wanted. For her to stay distant and as far away from him as possible. He listened to the rain, hoping it would let up and things could get back to normal. That someone would come looking for the plane and her, soon.

It had been awhile since he had taken care of anyone. Not since his mother. Memories of their crummy apartment flooded his head. The smell of alcohol, his mother’s slurred words as she tried to apologize for not bringing home any food for him. At only ten years old, he’d learned quickly to fend for himself, not to depend on anyone.

Jake had made a point of being independent. Meg had been the closest he’d come to a relationship and that had been a mistake, too. They’d been partners in the bureau. He was a twelve-year veteran. He should have seen the danger, he should have been able to save her. Instead, he let his guard down and allowed her to walk into a trap.

Pain and regret washed over him, constricting his chest as he watched the mystery woman sleep. He didn’t want to be responsible for anyone again. That’s why he’d come here. Far away from country and duty, to figure out his plans for the rest of his life. All he knew was that his career with the bureau was over. He’d specialized in terrorism and worked undercover. He had seen too much ugliness and total disregard for human life. He just hadn’t had the stomach for it anymore. After handing in his resignation, he’d had no trouble walking away.

Through an acquaintance, he’d heard about Wales. So he packed up and traveled to the Welsh countryside. He liked hiking in the mountains. Then he’d found this remote cabin where he could be by himself, and over the past four months, he’d been able to get through most days. He still had the nightmares and he’d gotten lonely some times, but he was staying.

He covered his guest with a blanket and put another log on the fire, then walked out the door to feed the horses. He only hoped that he was going to get back his solitude. Real soon.

“Wake up, Ana. Come on. Open those pretty blues for me.”

Ana stirred and tried to shove at the hand on her arm. “Go away.”

“Sorry, can’t do that.”

Her head was pounding as she rolled over. “Go away, Rory. I want to sleep.”

“Can’t do that,” he said, in a voice that was low and smooth as velvet. “So Rory will have to wait.”

Slowly Ana came out of her fog and she opened her eyes. The man before her was familiar, but he represented what she didn’t want to remember. A plane crash, two dead men and no memory of who she was or if anyone was even looking for her.

“What do you want?”

“I need to check your pupils,” he said.

She slowly and carefully made it into a sitting position, mainly to get away from him. “What?”

“Your eyes. You have a concussion. I let you sleep a few hours, but you need to be awake now.”

“Okay, I’m awake.” She looked toward the door. “Is it still raining?” Silly question when she could see water sheeting off the window pane.

“It eased off for a while.”

She looked back at the man. “How do you stand being up here by yourself?”

He shrugged. “I like being alone.”

“Yes, solitude can have its advantages, but what if something happened?”

“Max is a pretty good watchdog, he could go for help.”

That sparked an idea in her head. “Could he go now and let the authorities know I’m here?”

“Not in this weather. Besides, this isn’t a life-or-death situation.”

“Maybe not to you,” she said, hating the trapped feeling that was enveloping her.

“If you’ll be patient a while, this weather will clear and I’ll get you down the mountain, or better yet, maybe Rory will rescue you.”

“Rory? Who’s Rory?”

“You tell me. You called out his name when I tried to wake you.”

She gasped. “I did?” At his nod, she worked to remember, but nothing came. She couldn’t come up with anyone by the name of Rory. What if he was her…husband? “I can’t remember,” she said through gritted teeth.

“Stop trying so hard. Things will come to you.” He moved closer. “Now, look up here so I can check your pupils.” She did as he asked and sat still as he shined the flashlight in her eyes.

Jake Sanderstone was so close that she could feel his breath against her face. She drew air into her lungs and inhaled his scent and something else. Straw and some kind of animal. A horse.

She pulled back. “Horses.”

“What?” He looked confused and annoyed. “What about horses?”

“You smell like horses. Why is that?”

His nearly black eyes captured hers. “Maybe because I just came in from feeding two in the stable. Why? Do you remember something?”

She shook her head. “Just that I recognize the scent of horses. That’s not such a breakthrough. Pretty distinctive odor.”

“Maybe. But you might know something about horses. Give yourself some time to think about that.” He got up and went to the kitchen area. On the stove was a pan and he began stirring. “If you’re hungry, I heated up some stew.”

Suddenly, her stomach growled. “Maybe I could eat a little.”

“Good.” He smiled this time. “It’ll help you get your strength back.” He pulled down two mismatched bowls from the cupboard and filled them with two large ladle full of stew. He carried the heaping bowls to the small table and went back for a loaf of bread.

“Supper is ready,” he said as he came to the couch.

Ana started to stand, but her legs wouldn’t cooperate. Instead of asking for his help, she used the couch for support and slowly made her way into the kitchen. “Looks good.”

“It’s canned. I’m hoping when you feel better, you can practice your culinary skills on me.”

“I don’t cook.”

He sent her a questioning look. “Now, of all the things you had to remember, why that?”

She shrugged and picked up her spoon. “I don’t think I’ve spent much time in a kitchen at all.” She paused and looked around the bowl.

“What are you looking for?”

“A napkin.”

Silently, Jake went to the cupboard and pulled out a package of paper napkins and handed her one. She could feel his eyes on her as she placed it across her lap.

“You all set now?” he asked as he returned to his seat.

“Yes, thank you,” she answered. After taking a bite, she savored the taste. She’d probably had better, but nothing more appreciated. “As I was saying…I don’t recognize anything.”

“Well, when you’re feeling better, I’ll introduce you around,” he said with a cocky smile, then added, “sugar.”

“I insist you stop calling me by that ridiculous name.”

“You’re insisting?”

Ana hated that flash of arrogance in his midnight eyes. She didn’t like being teased, never did. Another flicker of memory. Well, she wasn’t about to tell him that so she concentrated on eating her stew. But there was another pressing matter that she did have to talk with him about. She needed to use the facilities. She looked around the room wondering if it was through the bedroom.

“What do you need?” he asked her.

“Nothing.” She turned back to her food, but the need wouldn’t go away, it only intensified. She stood. “Would you please direct me to the facilities?”

“Sure, but I’m going to have to go with you.”

“I beg your pardon. I assure you Mr. Sanderstone, I’m capable of taking care of the situation quite nicely, thank you.”

“The name’s Jake. And I think this time, especially in your condition, you need my help.”

“You’ve helped quite enough. Now I want you to show me where to go.”

His smile turned into a full-fledged grin. “It would be my pleasure.” He pointed to the door. “It’s outside to the left about thirty yards from the cabin.”

Ana bit back a groan, but wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing her distaste. He went to the door ahead of her and helped her into rain gear and boots. He opened the door and walked her to the edge of the porch. He turned serious. “Sure you don’t need my help, sugar?”

Her temper flared again. “Look…Yank. I told you, I can handle this.”

She got the satisfaction of seeing his irritation before she stepped off the porch. The cold rain washed over her face and made her shiver. She moved slowly, but she would die before she let Jake Sanderstone know just how much she really needed him.

Just before dawn the next morning, Jake was stretched out on the couch, listening to the crackling of the fire. Ana had gone to sleep in the bed. He’d checked on her off and on during the night. She was much better. Enough so he felt he could leave her for a while.

After hours of deliberating, he’d come to the conclusion that he had to return to the crash site. There were two bodies up there exposed to animals and the elements, and he needed to bury them.

There also might be a chance that the plane’s radio still worked. A slim one, but it would be great if he could at least get word out about the crash and the lone survivor. Not that there was any chance that a rescue team would get here until the storm passed and that could be days away. But he had to try.

And it wouldn’t hurt to find out about the woman he’d brought into his home. Maybe he could find some information on her in the meantime. At least she would have a name and maybe that would help trigger her memory.

He threw back his blanket and stood. He grabbed his dried pants from the hearth and put them on, next came his shirt and a sweater. He went to the sink and pumped water and splashed some on his face. The cold made him shiver. Well, if that didn’t wake him nothing would. Not wanting to waste any time, he’d eat breakfast on the trail and reached in the cupboard for some jerky.

He grabbed his jacket then rubbed Max’s fur “Come on, boy, I have a job for you,” he whispered and led him into the bedroom.

He stood next to the bed. Ana was asleep on her side, her hair nearly covering her face. He brushed the strands away and she moaned and rolled over on her back. She blinked at him, then opened her eyes.

“You again,” she groaned. “Don’t you ever get tired of disturbing my sleep? Fine, do what you have to do.”

Jake closed his eyes a moment and tried to erase the dangerous thoughts in his head. “I wanted you to know that I’ll be gone for a few hours. Max will be here for you. So you’ll be safe. There’s plenty of wood for the fire. It’s best if you stay in bed.” And out of trouble, he finished to himself.

All he got from her was the soft sound of her even breathing. She was great for the male ego, he thought ironically. Well, when he got back he would know who she was, and with any luck, she’d be gone soon. He put on his rain gear, walked out the door, locked it, then grabbed the shovel from the side of the cabin and headed toward the ridge. In a few days he’d be all alone again.

And that’s just the way he liked it.

Chapter Three

The trip took him nearly thirty minutes, but Jake made the climb over the ridge without much problem. The rain had finally slowed, and he hoped it would stay that way until he finished his task.

When he reached the edge of the ravine, he paused, amazed at the destruction. Entire rows of trees had been bent or broken off by the force of the jet, but in the end, the mountain won out.

His gaze lowered to the yards and yards of debris scattered along the ground. He walked past what was left of the tail, then to the plane’s fuselage, and the twisted metal was all that was left of the wings. They’d been stripped away as if the plane were a toy. Only the midsection remained intact and that was where Ana had been seated. Jake glanced inside and saw the cushions that she’d placed around her; the padding must have saved her in the crash.

He quickly moved on. A job needed to be done before he could look for any clues about his guest. It could be days before anyone arrived to investigate the accident. Jake had to be careful not to disturb too much, but he couldn’t just leave the bodies unprotected, either. He walked about twenty yards up the slope to a pine tree, removed his backpack and picked up the shovel.

About an hour later, he’d finished his digging. Ignoring his fatigue, he returned to the plane and removed the first body from the cockpit. He took the man’s ID from his pocket. In bold black letters it proclaimed him to be, Rory Hearne, Penwyck security, top priority clearance.

“Rory,” he said the name aloud. “So you’re the one she called out for in the night.” Jake experienced a tightening in his gut that felt suspiciously like jealousy. That was crazy. He didn’t even know the woman. Why would he care if she and this Rory were lovers?

Jake lifted the other man from his seat and retrieved his ID. He found a pilot’s license for Stephen Loden also from Penwyck. That wouldn’t be out of the ordinary since the small island of Penwyck wasn’t too far off the coast of Wales.

After tucking Rory’s gun into his belt and the wallets into his jacket pocket, he started to lift the pilot and noticed a small tattoo through the tear in his shirt. A small, black sword. Where had he seen that tattoo before? During his years with the bureau, Jake had accumulated a lot of miscellaneous information, read over hundreds of advisory reports. As a terrorism specialist, his life had depended on it.

A sword. Jake searched his memory. The black sword represented the Black Knights. That was it. The Black Knights were a subversive group located in Europe.

Now he wanted to know what a security guard with top clearance and a pretty blue-eyed girl, with no memory were doing with a rebel. He had a lot of questions to ask his guest when he got back to the cabin.

She woke up with a killer headache, desperate to find something to stop the pounding. Climbing out of bed, she found the dog at her feet.

“Hello, fellow. Where’s your master?” Not that she wanted to deal with the rude man, but she needed medication.

Still in the blue shirt that he’d given her, she gingerly walked to the door of the bedroom and opened it. There was a small fire in the hearth, but the room was deserted. Grimacing, she made her way to the kitchen area and located the first-aid kit.

Trembling with relief, she popped open the lid and found the bottle of aspirin. She removed two tablets, then took a glass from the cupboard. Pumping the water was a little difficult, but she managed. After swallowing the tablets, she went into the sitting area by the dying fire. My word, she was cold. There was a blanket on the back of the couch. She wrapped it around her shoulders and a familiar male scent suddenly filled her nostrils. She could smell him. Sitting down on the cushion, she burrowed into the warmth and closed her eyes.

She could picture the brooding man, dressed in a plaid shirt and jeans, his face drawn, tiny brackets lining the corners of his mouth. His straight white teeth were visible when he smiled, which was a rare occurrence. It was his beautiful raven-colored eyes that drew her attention, but the sadness she saw nearly broke her heart. What had happened in his life that made him want to live off by himself? A woman? What kind of woman was the man attracted to? Blondes…brunettes?

She reached for a strand of hair. Hers was light brown. Plain light brown. Did someone think she was attractive? Was someone out there missing her, aching for her to come home? She tried so hard to remember, but there were only blank spaces. Was there no one for her? She had been in limbo for the past two days. What was worse, her rescuer, Mr. Sanderstone, didn’t want her around. Well, she didn’t care. The Yank was bloody annoying. He was also handsome and very well built. What a pity he didn’t have any manners, any polish.

A splattering of heavy raindrops hit the window, and she stared out the cloudy pane at the storm. Would she ever be able to leave here?

Suddenly there was pounding on the door. She got up and walked over, hesitating on her next move. Then she heard a familiar voice. “Hey, open up, it’s raining like hell out here.”

She unlatched the bolt and swung open the door to find Jake. He was soaked to the skin and he looked angry.

“Where have you been?” she asked.

He pushed passed her, stripped off his rain gear and hung it up on the hook “I’ve been up on the ridge, burying your friends.”

She gasped. “My friends? Do you know who I am?”

“Sorry, I didn’t have time to look around to learn your name. The weather turned on me. After I buried the bodies, I had to start back.” He took a chair from the table, sat down and started pulling off his wet boots. He jerked off his sweater, then unbuttoned his shirt as he tugged it from his pants.

With his black hair plastered against his head, he reached for a towel in the kitchen and mopped the water from his face and hair as he walked to the hearth. He looked at the fire and cursed. “Couldn’t you at least keep the fire going while I was gone?” He removed the screen and placed several logs on the dying embers.

“I wasn’t informed that you had left. And there were no written instructions telling me to keep anything going.”

“Common sense would tell you to add logs to the fire when it’s going out.”

“You seem to forget that I was in a plane crash yesterday and I don’t have any memory,” she snapped. When she stood, her head began to spin and she swayed.

Alarmed, Jake rushed to her side. “Whoa.” He grabbed her by the arm, led her to the couch and sat her down. Damn. What was wrong with him? He was being a jerk.

“Does your head hurt?” Stupid question. He could see the pain in her eyes.

“Yes, I took some medication from the first-aid kit.”

“Then rest here.”

“No,” she said, refusing to lie back. “I want to know what you found at the plane. Who…died?”

He shook his head. “We can talk about it later when you’re feeling better.”

“I need to know now,” she demanded. “Who were they?”

He didn’t want to go over this now, but it looked like he didn’t have a choice. “There was a Rory Hearne, he was a security guard from Penwyck. Do you remember him?”

She shook her head again. “No.”