The Princess Has Amnesia!. Patricia Thayer

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