memory. But they felt he should recover enough to be a functional member of society once more with time and counseling. He should recover. Not he would.
At this point, she didn’t care if his memory ever came back. She just wanted him back. The man who’d swept her off her feet in a whirlwind romance in Paris. The man who’d captured her heart and taught her what true love could be. If even part of that amazing man came back to her, it would be better than the hollow shell of a man on the other side of the door. She vowed to be grateful for whatever piece of him survived his ordeal. It was surely better than having no part of him at all. The past five years of waiting and wondering had been pure hell.
She knew he wasn’t convinced yet that his rescue was real in spite of that first night of freedom they’d shared. They’d gone to her estate, where he’d bathed and eaten. Then she’d made love to him with all the pent-up passion and relief in her soul.
They’d both cried that night. She’d interpreted his tears as a cathartic release, but she’d been wrong. The shrinks told her he believed that night to have been some sort of elaborate torture by his captors to taunt him with what freedom would be like. Apparently, he’d been crying because the idea of going back into his box after what the two of them had shared had finally broken him. She’d broken him.
The man hadn’t even known who she was, and she’d been so caught up in her euphoria at finding him that she’d never slowed down enough to realize how lost he’d been. Guilt at her thoughtlessness rolled through her. She’d always been a take-charge, full-speed-ahead kind of person. But that tendency had hurt the man she loved. Part of his paranoid state now was her fault. When would she learn to rein herself in? Had her impulsiveness cost her his trust forever?
She took a deep breath and pushed open the door. “Hey, handsome. How are you feeling today?”
“You’re back.” The abject relief in his voice broke her heart a little. What he clearly meant was, “So I get to live another day in this beautiful illusion? Thank God.”
“The doctors say you can go home soon. You’ll still need around-the-clock medical care, but I can hire nurses to look after you.”
Terror flashed in his eyes at the mention of leaving the hospital.
She pretended not to see it and asked lightly, “Do you think when you actually come home to live with me and Adam you’ll believe all of this is real? That you’re free and you have a family?”
He answered slowly, “I don’t know. I hope so.”
Hey, progress! He’d spoken of his feelings. Maybe he’d finally accepted that he was not living in a dream or a terrible trick. She picked up his bony hand and cradled it in hers. It had been so strong once, so capable of giving her pleasure, so confident in its gestures. She murmured, “I love you, Nick. If you believe nothing else, please believe that.”
“Even if you’re lying, the notion makes me happy.”
She smiled down at him. “Give it some time. Give me some time to prove this is real.”
He shrugged. “It isn’t like I have any choice. I’m along for the ride, here. So far, it’s a great dream.”
She smiled bravely while the knife twisted in her gut. “You’ll be on your feet and kicking up your heels in no time. You’ll be able to do whatever you want.”
And please God, let that include staying with her and Adam. Their son desperately needed a father, and she desperately needed the man she loved. Yes, she hadn’t seen him in five years. And yes, he might be an entirely different person than the one she fell in love with way back then. But surely, at least part of the intelligent, passionate, confident man who’d swept her off her feet was still in there, somewhere.
“How can you possibly be real?” he asked reflectively. “You’re too perfect.”
She laughed lightly, praying her panic at his declaration wasn’t audible. “I’m far from perfect. Trust me.”
“Trust. That is the thing, isn’t it? Who will trust whom first in this little chess game?”
“This isn’t a game, Nick. You’re free, you’re going home soon and I love you. That’s the God’s honest truth.”
He made a noncommittal sound, and his cobalt gaze slid away from hers.
He really did have to give his captors credit for playing out this farce to the hilt. Six weeks since his “rescue” and still no hint of tossing him back in his box. He gazed around the plush bedroom suite, decorated in dark woods and deep, comforting colors. It was a far cry from his former prison. Hard to believe he actually caught himself missing the container’s bare metal walls now and then. After a while, its confines had felt safe. Comforting. A steel embrace that kept out worse horrors.
He supposed if he had to trade one cage for another, this one wasn’t bad. It was warmer and softer, and definitely had better food. The hallway door opened and Laura slipped into the room, wearing a slim wool skirt and a silk blouse that clung to her elegant curves in all the right places. Her cheeks were pink and her eyes bright. He added better-looking captors to his list.
In all fairness to her, she’d been nothing but kind and loving to him since she’d opened his box and let him out. She really was a delightful woman, witty and warm, with a quick smile that made her impossible to resist. And she was a devoted mother.
She moved to his side, and he closed his laptop. Yet again, his unreasoning fear at what lurked in his past had prevented him from typing in his real name to an internet search engine. Just a few simple keystrokes, and he’d finally know what monsters lurked in the recesses of his mind. But his terror was just too great. He’d sat there for an hour with the damned computer in his lap and never managed to type a single letter.
Leaning over the chair, Laura kissed him warmly. He didn’t find it hard to believe that he’d loved her once. The only thing keeping him from giving in to serious attraction to the woman was the prospect of losing her. He figured as soon as he fell for her, that would be when the rug got yanked out from under him.
“How’re you feeling today?” she asked eagerly, almost impatiently.
“Fine. You look about ready to burst. Do you have a surprise for me?” His gut clenched. He hated surprises. He was still waiting for the big, nasty one where his captors swept him out of this paradise and whisked him back to Hell Central.
“I do have a surprise for you, Nick. A good one, I hope. Are you strong enough for a bit of a shock?”
Every cell in his being froze. This was it. Sick heat and then icy cold washed through him, leaving him so nauseous he could hardly breathe. His heart pounded and his breathing accelerated so hard that, in seconds, he was light-headed.
His gaze darted about, seeking escape. Seeking a weapon. Anything to defend himself from the attack to come. His gaze lighted on the window. He could make a dash for it. Fling himself through the glass. It was three stories to the ground. If he went head first, the fall ought to kill him. If nothing else, maybe he’d be hurt so bad they couldn’t throw him back in his box. Maybe they’d have to hospitalize him for a few more months.
“I’m pregnant, Nick. We’re going to have a baby.”
His mind went blank. Ever so slowly, his brain managed to form a thought.
