Chapter Fourteen

The feeling of impending disaster continued to weigh heavy on Amber. She felt a sense of urgency to remember…but what? It was obviously something of extreme importance. By the time the teapot was empty and all that remained on the plate piled high with teacakes, scones, and tarts were crumbs, she was exhausted. Despite the wonderful company, and feeling as if she had found two new friends, her head began to throb. The more she tried to hide the turmoil inside of her, the more intense her feelings of urgency, magnified by the ache in her head.

"Thank you for an enjoyable visit. I'm honored, your ladyships. Though, if you do not mind," Amber said, "I would like to lie down for a little while."

Lady Aurelia studied her intently before answering, "Are you feeling poorly? You should have mentioned that your head was bothering you. We never would have gone on and on talking about our sons, the wives of the men in the duke's guard, and the goings-on at Lippincott and Chattsworth."

"I thought it would eventually go away," Amber confessed. "But it hasn't, even though I am almost back to feeling like myself… Almost."

"I do hope you rest for as long as you need," Lady Calliope said.

Amber thought to tell them that she felt fine, just tired, but from the looks the other women were giving her, she knew the only person she would be fooling was herself. "Thank you both—I enjoyed myself. I cannot recall the last time I had the opportunity to sit down and chat over tea."

"Although we have not known one another long," Aurelia said, "I feel as if we are kindred spirits. I have enjoyed our tea immensely."

"I have too," Calliope added. "I hope you don't mind a bit of advice, but please do rest now and whenever else you can." The two shared a telling look before Aurelia nodded, and Calliope continued, "You are safe here."

"Dermott and the others will see to it that no harm will come to you while you are staying with us," Aurelia reiterated.

An ache in the pit of Amber's stomach had her automatically pressing her hand against it to relieve the pain. "I cannot stay here indefinitely," she reasoned. "At some point, I will have to return to my family's town home, as…" Her voice trailed off as she searched her brain for a clue as to where that home might be. Finally, she had no choice but to say, "That is, as soon as I remember what part of London that might be…and my name."

"I am certain you shall remember in no time," Calliope replied.

"Out of the blue," Aurelia added.

Amber was about to remind them of the possibility she might never regain her full memory, but the knock on the door interrupted her.

"Come in," the countess called.

The door opened, and Lady Aurelia's maid entered the room. "Someone's hungry a bit earlier today, your ladyship."

Aurelia's smile was radiant. "Is he? Well now, I shall not keep my darling babe waiting."

Calliope was quick to follow her. "Did Mary Kate ask for me to come as well? Was my little William starting to stir?"

Jenny nodded. "Yes, but do not worry, as Mary Kate has matters well in hand. But they will soon be—" The distinct sound of a babe crying could be heard. "We'd best hurry!"

"Calliope and I will come at once," Lady Aurelia said. "Please accompany Amber to her bedchamber. She is going to rest for a bit."

"Of course, your ladyship."

Amber fell silent as she followed Lady Aurelia's maid, wondering what it would feel like to have a babe of her own to love and cherish. Shocked at the turn of her thoughts, she nearly laughed out loud, but managed to rein in her reaction and not embarrass herself. She chided herself for putting the cart before the horse. She needed to marry before she began to even think about having a babe.

Dermott O'Malley's handsome face and muscular frame filled her mind before she was able to dismiss the idea. A beautiful babe with bright green eyes, soft blond hair, and a cunning smile filled her mind. No matter how hard she tried to set the image aside, it was well and truly stuck there. She sighed, knowing he had an important job to do: protect the duke and his family. Amber would never want to interfere. It was bad enough she had taken him away from his duties. Now that she was feeling a little better, and able to recall more of her past and herself, she expected to see less of the handsome Irishman.

Pausing in front of the door to Amber's bedchamber, Jenny held it open for her. "Is there anything I can get for you before I leave, Miss Amber?"

"Not a thing, thank you," Amber answered. "I just need to close my eyes and rest."

"Someone will be by to check on how you are feeling in a little while."

"Oh, but that will not be necessary," Amber told the maid.

"Doctor's orders."

"I see." And she did—the earl and countess were being cautious as well as solicitous because of the wound to her head and resultant memory loss. Her guardian angel must have intervened for her to have ended up in the care of such generous people. "Thank you for letting me know, and please thank her ladyship and his lordship for me."

"I would be happy to." Jenny followed her into the room and turned down the covers. "Do you need help getting into bed?"

Feeling as if she needed to return the kindness of her host and hostess, Amber asked, "Is there anything I can do to help, since the viscount and his family are now staying here? I have been known to sew a fine seam and have mended more than one of Papa's cambric shirts…" She trailed off as the memory of his face filled her—warm gray eyes, a ruggedly handsome face, and a shock of dark hair streaked with gray.

With the vision of her father filling her mind's eye, she staggered toward the bed and sat on the edge of it.

"Are you all right, Miss Amber? You've gone pale." Jenny stepped out into the hallway to speak to the footman stationed there.

Amber was still reeling at how clear Papa's image was—and how it came on so suddenly that she could do no more than sit and let her mind absorb it. She struggled, but could not recall his name…nor hers.

"I've sent the footman to ask Mrs. Jones to come up. She'll be here in a few moments." Jenny paused and gave a hesitant smile before asking, "Would you like me to sit here with you, or would you rather be alone? I can wait outside."

"Would you mind terribly if I'd rather be alone for a few moments?"

"Not at all, Miss Amber, I'll be right outside. Call out if you need me." With a brief nod, Jenny closed the door behind her.

Alone, Amber settled on the bed and closed her eyes. Her mind called up moments in time with a younger version of her father. Not wanting to force her brain to work harder, as it always left her feeling drained and with an aching head, she let it wander at will. Before she could order herself not to, her thoughts returned to the broad-shouldered, green-eyed, captivating man who'd rescued her. Did he have any idea that he'd stolen her heart?

Her belly began to ache again. What if he had someone special in his life? What if he was married? That thought had an uncomfortable roil rumbling in her stomach. She'd never experienced such an emotional upheaval before. Had she never been in love? Searching her feelings, she could not recall ever feeling one-quarter of what filled her to bursting whenever Dermott was near. If he did have a sweetheart or intended, she would have to accept it.

What would be hard to accept was the fact that her heart was no longer her own. Dermott O'Malley held it in the palm of his strong, callused hands. Thoughts of being held in his arms—against his broad chest, leaning her head against the steady beat of his heart—kept her company while she closed her eyes. The Irishman's face comforted her as she drifted off to sleep.

The sound ofa deep voice broke through her slumber, prodding her to wake. She rubbed her eyes and sat up in bed. The rumbling continued, and she wondered who was standing just outside her bedchamber door. Reaching up to tuck in a few stray hairpins, she scooted to the edge of the bed and rose. Still a bit sleepy, but no longer as wobbly, she walked over to the washstand, intending to splash her face with cool water.

The heavy knock startled her. She turned to stare at the door. "Who is there?"

"Lass? 'Tis me, Dermott. May I have a word with ye?"

"Dermott?"

"Aye. I need to speak to you about something important, lass."

"Just a moment, please." She quickly washed her face and hands, then dried them on a soft linen cloth before smoothing them over her skirts. It was no use—she was a rumpled mess. But she dared not keep the man waiting after all he had done, and continued to do, for her. She walked to the door and opened it.

"Ye're still pale."

It sounded like an accusation, and she immediately defended herself. "I am always a bit pale on rising."

Dermott frowned, but did not argue with her. How could he, when he hardly knew her? "His lordship wishes to speak to ye, if ye're up to it."

She clasped her hands to her waist. Had something happened? Has someone come looking for her? Amber wanted to ask if her ladyship would be in attendance, but recalled she was tending to their infant son. "Of course. In his study?"

"Aye. If ye'll come with me." He stepped back so that she could precede him.

"I heard voices a few moments ago."

"Forgive me. I did not wish to wake ye, lass."

"I had not intended to fall asleep. I was only going to rest my eyes."

"Ye obviously needed the rest. 'Tisn't a problem—we only want ye to rest and recover, Amber-lass."

Butterflies fluttered inside of her when he rumbled he name he'd given her, and she could feel herself blushing. Thankfully, Dermott was behind her and could not see her face flaming with embarrassment at her body's reaction to him calling her Amber-lass. Relishing the feeling close to her heart, she asked whom he had been speaking with.

"One of the other guards."

Amber wondered why he did not mention the man's name, then decided that, in his role of protector, Dermott would be cautious about speaking out of hand. Feeling uneasy at the prospect of this meeting, she asked, "Should I be concerned that the earl wishes to speak to me?"

He shot her a lethal grin that had her heart skipping a beat. "Not at all. His lordship takes his responsibility seriously. I brought ye here so yer injuries could be tended to…and for yer protection, lass. He will go to any lengths, as will I, to protect ye. Earl Lippincott is a fair and impartial man. 'Tis an honor to be guarding himself and his family."

She paused, and as she hoped, he moved to stand beside her. When he did, she placed her hand on his forearm. He swept his gaze from the hasty bun she'd fashioned, to her lips, before returning to look deeply into her eyes. Her body responded as warmth swept up from her toes, and the dratted flush returned to her cheeks… She could feel the heat in them.

His green eyes darkened, but still sparkled. "Well now, the color's returning to yer pretty face, lass. I'm glad."

Amber knew she had better get a hold of herself before she fell completely under his spell. She had to find out if there was a woman in his life. Did she dare ask?

Longing gripped her heart at the thought that there may be someone else. Though she had only just met him, she felt such a strong pull toward him. Dare she ask? It wouldn't be right to let herself continue to hope for more if his heart was already engaged, bound to another. She had to ask, otherwise she would have fallen in love with a man who was beyond her reach.

She trembled as her heart picked up the beat—did she truly love him? Had she ever loved another? Then a strong sense of rightness filled her. She had never felt this way before. She was in over her head, in love with one of the duke's guard!

"May I ask you a question?"

"I don't think the earl will mind waiting a few moments more. What would ye like to know?"

Before her courage deserted her, she blurted out, "Are you married?"

He snorted with what she suspected was laughter before he cleared his throat to speak. "Nay, lass. I'm not married. Is there anything else ye wanted to ask?"

"Er…yes. Since I have already asked you such a personal question, I do have one more. Is your heart engaged?"

He slowly smiled, and she could not help but sigh at the sight. Lord, he was sinfully handsome.

"Aye."

Amber felt as if every ounce of air was being squeezed out of her lungs, and she struggled to draw in a breath. Of course he had already given his heart—he must have had dozens of women throwing their hearts at his feet. How could he not?

She felt the tears forming and willed them away. Hadn't she already embarrassed herself enough for one day? Belatedly, she realized her hand was still holding his arm. Releasing her grip, she apologized, "Please forgive me. I do not know what came over me."

When he did not speak, merely studied her closely, she hastily added, "Thank you for all you have done for me, Dermott. I will never forget your kindness, or how you saved me."

He frowned. "I would have done the same for anyone in need, lass."

"Of course," she whispered.

"Ye don't have to worry—the earl isn't planning to boot ye out of his home, lass. He just wants to speak with ye, but he has been tied up with other matters."

Relief twined with sorrow that the man who filled her thoughts and mind from sunup till sundown would never be able to return her feelings. Shoving her feelings deep, she managed to respond, "Well, that is wonderful news, isn't it?"

"Aye. I'm not certain what ye've been thinking, lass, to lose the roses in yer cheeks that quickly. But whatever it is, try to set it aside. I don't want his lordship to think I've been treating ye badly."

"Oh, you would never do that."

"What makes ye say that, lass?"

"I…er… Well, that is…" What could she say that would not make her sound any more of a bacon-brained female than she already had? Asking Dermott if he was married or had given his heart away?

His gaze locked on hers. "Looking at ye is like a glass of water to a man dying of thirst. Essential."

She felt the warmth in her cheeks again and wished she was not so fair that her blushes were so easily seen. Turning from his sharp gaze, Amber was surprised when the tip of his finger beneath her chin urged her to look back at him. Their eyes met, and she was nearly swept away by the power of her attraction to him. Dermott O'Malley was quickly becoming far more important to her than she was to him. How could she be, when his heart was already taken?

"We'd best be going," he murmured. "His lordship does not like to be kept waiting long."

She practically ran to keep up with Dermott. When they reached the study, he paused, holding her gaze for long moments without speaking. Tracing the curve of her cheek with the tip of his finger, he rasped, "Don't worry so, lass. As I told ye, the earl is a fair man. Trust him… Trust us."

"I do trust you, Dermott," she whispered, unable to tear her gaze away from his beautifully sculpted lips. Would they be firm or soft? Did she dare ruin the man's opinion of her, more than she already had, by acting the complete hoyden and giving in to the urge to touch him again? What would he do if she reached up and touched the tips of her fingertips to his full bottom lip?

Could he read her mind? The emotions in his eyes were ones she had never seen before. From her limited experience, she guessed it could be passion. Passion and love were entwined, were they not? But lust, if she remembered their housekeeper's warnings…lust was not tied to any emotions at all. It was an animalistic urge. Nothing more.

His eyes changed to a deeper, intense green, and she wondered if he felt something too. But how could he feel anything toward her so quickly if his heart was already taken? Was he that free with his feelings? Did he have more than one sweetheart? Given how utterly beautiful he was, she sensed it was a distinct possibility. No. It would go against his strict code of conduct and the deep-rooted honor that she sensed within him.

What had come over her? Her uneasiness told her that this behavior was not normal for her. It had only been a few days since she had wakened staring into the depths of his brilliant emerald eyes. She wished she were still in London so that she could ask their housekeeper or cook about the feelings tangling into a series of tight knots in her belly.

Resolved that she would have to navigate the situation and her feelings without advice, she looked into the depths of his eyes. This would be her only chance, and though she knew his heart was taken, she accepted responsibility for her soul being stuck in Purgatory—but more, accepted the fact that she would be damned for eternity as she gave in to temptation and traced the fullness of his bottom lip with the tip of her finger.

His strangled groan surprised her. She dropped her hand and stepped back. "Forgive me—you did say your heart was engaged. I know that I will be leaving soon, and will never see you again. I could not help myself, though I should not have been so bold as to touch you. I have no idea what came over me."

His gaze locked on hers. "There's nothing to forgive, as I know exactly what came over ye, lass. For the same feelings have been driving me to the brink of sanity." He bent his head, and she lifted onto her toes, meeting him halfway. The anticipation of feeling his lips pressed firmly to hers had her knees wobbling, her body trembling, and her heart racing.

The door opened, and they jolted apart. The earl stood in the doorway looking from Dermott to her and then back again. Finally, he said, "Excellent. You're here. I thought I was going to have to ask one of the footmen to find you. Come in."

Dermott placed his hand to her small of her back, gently urging her into the earl's study.

"Won't you have a seat?" the earl inquired.

"Thank you, your lordship." She settled in one of the brown leather chairs by the fireplace. A glance at Dermott, and she knew he was uncomfortable. Was he concerned that the earl had seen them about to kiss? Should she be? Had he truly just told her that he felt the same way toward her, or had she imagined it?

Lord, what a bumblebroth this was turning out to be.