His Sinful Touch. Candace Camp

“Maybe that person wasn’t real but something your brain conjured up, a symbol of the pursuit you feared would follow.”

      “So perhaps everyone was still asleep, and I came to before anyone was out of bed. Is that when I forgot who I was?”

      “I don’t know. All we’re sure of is that you’d lost your memory by the time you reached London. But, whether you awoke from the fall not knowing who you were or it came to you later, when you awakened, you were aware that you must run. You sensed that someone was after you, so you took off. The same reasoning would apply whether you were eloping or a rebellious miss running off to visit her friend in London, or a schoolgirl escaping from some young ladies’ academy.” Another possibility, that she was a mistreated wife looking to escape her brute of a husband. He didn’t want to think about that.

      “True.” Sabrina looked relieved. “It doesn’t have to have been that I was eloping. But why didn’t someone come after me? Wouldn’t they have searched for me?”

      “We don’t know that they didn’t.” Alex wished he could call back the words when a new worry bloomed in Sabrina’s eyes.

      “Of course. You’re right. They could have followed my trail. They could be here in London searching for me.”

      “No need to worry about that,” he said hastily. “Even if they assumed you fled to London, how would they know where you went once you got here?”

      “The driver?”

      “Let’s say they questioned the driver of every hack at Paddington, the most they could possibly learn is that you’d gone to the agency. Tom Quick won’t reveal where you are, and Con isn’t even here. No, if they think you’ve gone to London, then they’re most likely to go to your friend who wrote the letter in your pocket. She will know nothing about you. Or if you come to London frequently, they’ll go to the places you normally go.”

      “And I won’t be there.”

      “Exactly.”

      She smiled and reached out to squeeze his hand. “Thank you.”

      His pulse leaped at her touch. It was mad that even so small a thing could stir him. He wanted to turn his hand over and clasp hers. Well, frankly, what he wanted to do was to pull her over into his lap and kiss her again.

      “It’s, uh...” he began before realizing he had no idea what he was going to say. “Very late. We should probably go to bed.” His face warmed. “That is to say, we should sleep. I’m sure you’re tired.”

      Sabrina was just looking at him, her eyes huge and serious. She was so lovely it took his breath away. And she was still wearing only a nightgown. He could see the soft rise of her breasts beneath the thin material, even the hint of the darker circle of her nipples. She had curled her legs up onto the chair, and the nightgown had fallen away a little, revealing her ankles. He could not keep from thinking about reaching out and sliding his hand up, pushing the material higher, her skin smooth beneath his fingertips.

      Alex jumped to his feet. “There’s no reason to be afraid.”

      “I’m not.”

      “It was just a dream—nothing will hurt you here. And I’ll be right down the hall. You can call if you need me.” Why couldn’t he stop babbling?

      He swung away and found himself facing her bed. The covers were tossed aside invitingly, the sheets rumpled where she had lain. His mouth went dry as dust. He couldn’t move, couldn’t look away. He wanted to touch her so much the very skin of his palms tingled.

      Sabrina rose to her feet, and Alex turned back to her. She was close to him; it would be only a matter of reaching out and taking her arm. Pulling her to him. He remembered in vivid detail each moment of that kiss earlier. Her taste. Her warmth. Her softness.

      “Good night,” he said hoarsely and hurried from the room.