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. âI have socks for your feet.â
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 couldnât remember what happened in the crash. Lifeâs 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.
âSeems weâre getting pretty familiar, sugar.â He smiled, but didnât feel any mirth. She hadnât liked him calling her that. Good. It made her angry. Thatâs 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 motherâs slurred words as she tried to apologize for not bringing home any food for him. At only ten years old, heâd learned quickly to fend for himself, not to depend on anyone.
Jake had made a point of being independent. Meg had been the closest heâd come to a relationship and that had been a mistake, too. Theyâd 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 didnât want to be responsible for anyone again. Thatâs why heâd 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. Heâd specialized in terrorism and worked undercover. He had seen too much ugliness and total disregard for human life. He just hadnât had the stomach for it anymore. After handing in his resignation, heâd had no trouble walking away.
Through an acquaintance, heâd heard about Wales. So he packed up and traveled to the Welsh countryside. He liked hiking in the mountains. Then heâd found this remote cabin where he could be by himself, and over the past four months, heâd been able to get through most days. He still had the nightmares and heâd 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.
âWake up, Ana. Come on. Open those pretty blues for me.â
Ana stirred and tried to shove at the hand on her arm. âGo away.â
âSorry, canât do that.â
Her head was pounding as she rolled over. âGo away, Rory. I want to sleep.â
âCanât do that,â he said, in a voice that was low and smooth as velvet. âSo Rory will have to wait.â
Slowly Ana came out of her fog and she opened her eyes. The man before her was familiar, but he represented what she didnât want to remember. A plane crash, two dead men and no memory of who she was or if anyone was even looking for her.
âWhat do you want?â
âI need to check your pupils,â he said.
She slowly and carefully made it into a sitting position, mainly to get away from him. âWhat?â
âYour eyes. You have a concussion. I let you sleep a few hours, but you need to be awake now.â
âOkay, Iâm awake.â She looked toward the door. âIs it still raining?â Silly question when she could see water sheeting off the window pane.
âIt eased off for a while.â
She looked back at the man. âHow do you stand being up here by yourself?â
He shrugged. âI like being alone.â
âYes, solitude can have its advantages, but what if something happened?â
âMax is a pretty good watchdog, he could go for help.â
That sparked an idea in her head. âCould he go now and let the authorities know Iâm here?â
âNot in this weather. Besides, this isnât a life-or-death situation.â
âMaybe not to you,â she said, hating the trapped feeling that was enveloping her.
âIf youâll be patient a while, this weather will clear and Iâll get you down the mountain, or better yet, maybe Rory will rescue you.â
âRory? Whoâs Rory?â
âYou tell me. You called out his name when I tried to wake you.â
She gasped. âI did?â At his nod, she worked to remember, but nothing came. She couldnât come up with anyone by the name of Rory. What if he was herâ¦husband? âI canât remember,â she said through gritted teeth.
âStop trying so hard. Things will come to you.â He moved closer. âNow, look up here so I can check your pupils.â 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. âHorses.â
âWhat?â He looked confused and annoyed. âWhat about horses?â
âYou smell like horses. Why is that?â
His nearly black eyes captured hers. âMaybe because I just came in from feeding two in the stable. Why? Do you remember something?â
She shook her head. âJust that I recognize the scent of horses. Thatâs not such a breakthrough. Pretty distinctive odor.â
âMaybe. But you might know something about horses. Give yourself some time to think about that.â He got up and went to the kitchen area. On the stove was a pan and he began stirring. âIf youâre hungry, I heated up some stew.â
Suddenly, her stomach growled. âMaybe I could eat a little.â
âGood.â He smiled this time. âItâll help you get your strength back.â He pulled down two mismatched bowls from the cupboard and filled them with two large ladle
