A Marquess for Christmas by Vivienne Westlake Page A

from your wounds.”
    That
stopped him.
    “Wounds?”
    She
touched his head. The heat of her hand touching his body made him want to kiss
her again. But something was wrong. He put his hands over hers and realized
that his head was wrapped in a bandage.
    Earlier,
he’d been too pained by the loud sounds to notice that it wasn’t a sleeping cap
on his head.
    “You
were assaulted by criminals.” She bent her head down. “You came to assist me
when I was attacked on the road.”
    He
could remember seeing glimpses of her face. Remember her touching him. But he
could not remember any criminals or being on the road with her.
    “I-I
have no recollection of that.”
    She
stroked his cheek. “That is common after an injury such as yours. I’ve seen it in
the soldiers we tended after battle. You need rest.” She pushed him gently,
urging him to lie down again. “In time, it will all come back to you. It was
only yesterday that your fever broke.”
    “Who
are you?” he asked.
    “Mrs.
Violet Laurens of Welbury Park.”
    Mrs. ? He’d nearly made love to another
man’s wife? Perhaps he had been
thrashed in the head.
    “You
are married ?” He accused, crossing
his arms.
    Violet’s
eyes narrowed and she met his stare with one of her own. “Widowed.”
    “Ah.”
No harm done. The lady was free. He loosened his arms and placed them at his
side.
    “Now,
may I ask for your name?”
    His
name. What was his name? A moment ago, he remembered his valet, his sister.
“Kit—” The words fell off. He could not remember. He rubbed his temples,
searching for the name that was at the edge of his mind.
    He
tried to think. Kit. Kittleson ? Kittridge ? Kitson ? Christopher? He couldn’t be sure.
    “It
is alright. Do not strain yourself, Kit. You are safe for now.”
    “Why
can I remember the name of my valet, but I cannot for the life of me recall my
own?”
    “Perhaps
you are oft used to yelling it across the house? Like as not, you say his name
far more than your own.” She winked.
    It
was as plausible an explanation as any. He looked up to see her smile and then
he forgot everything but the desire to touch her.
    “I
take it we do not know one another?”
    “No.”
    “Seeing
that I am here in your home, I think we should take steps to remedy that
situation.” He grinned slowly and looked at her through his lashes.
    “You
are persistent.”
    “I
can say with confidence that I am.” He may have forgotten some things, but he
had not forgotten how to charm a lady. “Now tell me something about you.”
      “I do not know what to say.”
    “How
long have you been widowed?”
    “Three
years.”
    Though
he’d not wished to discomfit her, he needed to know if she was freshly
grieving. That would damper any attempt at seduction.
    “I
have never been married,” he said.
    She
looked incredulous. “How can you know that? You don’t remember your own name.”
    Yet
he knew that it was true. “Was I wearing a wedding band when you brought me
here?”
    “No.”
    “I
am not married,” he repeated. The last thing he wanted was for her to hesitate
to get to know him because of some foolish notion that he had a wife. He loved
women, but there was no one who meant that much to him.
    “You
seem so certain.”
    “I
just know that is not the sort of thing I would forget.”
    “What
do you remember?”
    He
decided to try a different tack. “I remember you,” he said. “I remember you
sitting close to me, touching me, as you did a moment ago.”
    “As
I said, you have been here for a few days.”
    He
memorized the lines of her soft lips. “You sang to me.”
    When
her skin turned a lovely shade of rose, he found her even more beautiful.
    “Yes.”
    Holding
her hands in his, he whispered, “You bathed me.” He paused, looking from their
joined hands to her bosom, rising and falling with each breath, up to her
almond shaped eyes. “Everywhere.”
    She
swallowed and closed her eyes a moment before meeting his gaze. “You