Page 96 of Modern Romance Collection May 2024 Books 1-4

He pressed his forehead to the glass. The coolness soothed the hot sweat on his brow, grounded him in the moment.

Elizabeth.

Her name came to him, a whisper in his mind that pulled up memories of warm hugs, a soothing voice tinged with a British accent, and the scent of violets. Each remembrance, of a kiss to his forehead after falling into the cold waves at some nameless beach, of sitting on a couch under a blanket watching some black-and-white movie, was both a godsend and a stab to his heart.

Gradually, the memories receded, leaving behind a different type of emptiness. He had wanted this, had craved a connection to his past. But remembering his mother, the things he had loved about her, made the knowledge that she was gone and had been gone for years even more painful. Like having a cherished treasure dangled before one’s eyes only to have it yanked away moments later.

One deep breath, then another. Slowly, he accepted his grief, the newfound memories. Perhaps tomorrow, or the day after, he would revisit them, honor his mother as best he could.

But now, with the wound of loss so fresh, he needed to pause. The reopening of his grief had brought with it a faint memory of why he had withdrawn from the world, become the cold, hard man he’d witnessed in the photographs, heard about from Esme’s account of his reassigning her. It wasn’t a complete picture, more like a puzzle with important pieces still missing. But he had the gist of what had happened.

He’d been hurt. As people tend to do when they’re in pain, he’d withdrawn. Unlike others, who had healed and gradually rejoined the world, he was beginning to suspect he’d burrowed himself deep into a hole of apathy.

A suspicion that made loathing churn in his stomach. If the doctor was right, he’d run from something in London. Even though he knew there was more to his and Esme’s story than what she was sharing, he didn’t doubt her grief, her humiliation, when she told him about his firing her from his detail. He wanted to remember. But, he wondered as he pulled the glass doors apart and stepped out onto the terrace, did he truly?

A sigh escaped him as he moved to the railing. Was this to be his life for the foreseeable future? Wanting his memories to return, yet being on guard as to when they would appear and how emotional they would be?

Remembering Esmerelda’s face when he’d delivered the news of her reassignment had been a punch to the gut. Yet seeing her smile so vividly, the emotion in her eyes, had warmed him.

Until she had sworn that he had misinterpreted the memory, just as he had his first recollection of her.

He didn’t believe her. Not about their personal history. It was an odd sensation, to entrust one’s life to someone knowing they were concealing something. But despite her perfidy, he still felt as soothed by her presence as he did fired up by the passion swirling like a tornado between them, still experienced the thrill of a connection rooted somewhere in his murky past whenever she was near.

Although since their short sojourn onto the beach, he hadn’t talked with her in over two days. When he’d gone to the hospital for his scans, she’d sat upfront with the driver, stayed quiet in a corner as machines had whirred about his head. Nothing of concern had been noted. The doctor had reiterated his initial instructions.

“Rest. Relax. I’m confident your memories will come back.”

They’d returned to the villa and Esmerelda had promptly disappeared. The evening staff had drifted in just after five and prepared dinner. The butler, Aroldo, had mentioned that Esmerelda had dined in her room, then gone out for a walk around the grounds. The same had happened yesterday. He’d spotted her here and there, eyes scanning the landscape, occasionally walking the perimeter of the grounds when he ventured outside.

Doing her job, yes. But she didn’t have to ignore him.

Her evasion grated, as did how much it bothered him.

He would not allow her to do the same tonight. Tonight he would take the tray himself if necessary—

“Good morning.”

Soft, delicate, with a tinge of huskiness that brushed over his skin. Esme stood just outside the doors to her room, her curls pulled up into a ponytail, leaving her freckled face bare to his hungry gaze.

“Good morning.”

She smiled, the gesture doing little to belie the wariness lurking in her eyes, as if she were afraid he might pounce.

“I was going...” Her voice trailed off. “Would you...?”

“Have you always been this eloquent?”

Red tinged her cheeks at his teasing tone. Whoever had told her that nonsense about flushing or whatever term it was had been a fool. The woman was a beautiful blend of colors: tan skin beneath coffee freckles, emerald-green eyes, red hair threaded with gold.

“I’m going to take one of the boats out.” The faint pride in her voice had him suppressing a smile. “Would you like to join me?”

“Two days ago you could barely stand to be in my company.” He cocked his head to one side. “Now you’re proposing a boat ride?”

“I’m going out. You’re welcome to join me or not.”

She turned away and started for the stairs. His esteem rose, as did the intrigue surrounding this enigmatic woman. She had a backbone. He liked that about her.

“I’ll be down in five.”

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