Scandalous by Candace Camp Read Free Book Online Page A

right?” he asked softly, and his hand once more stroked her hair. During the night’s struggles with him, her hair had once again fallen out of its pins and come loose from her braid until it lay softly over her shoulders, and she had given up trying to keep it back. She knew it was far too intimate to wear it this way around a man. Yet he did not seem at all uncomfortable with it; his hand caressed it naturally, as one might run one’s fingers over a lovely sculpture or piece of porcelain.
    â€œYes,” Priscilla replied, trying to smile at her foolishness. She quickly brushed her fingers across her cheek to rid them of the tears. “I’m sorry. I—it was relief. You have been out of your head all night, and when I saw that your fever had broken, well…”
    â€œI see.” He smiled faintly. He let her hair sift through his fingers, watching it. “You are very beautiful.”
    Priscilla felt a blush rising in her cheeks. “Thank you.”
    He frowned a little. Finally he asked, his voice puzzled, “Do I know you?”
    Priscilla looked at him oddly. “No.”
    His words seemed to recall her to propriety, and she stood up, sweeping her hair back. “Don’t you remember coming to our door last night?”
    He frowned and shook his head. “I— Things arefoggy.” He sat up slowly, and the blanket slid down, revealing his bare chest. He looked down, and a peculiar look crossed his face. “I haven’t— Where are my clothes?”
    â€œI don’t know.” Priscilla’s blush intensified. “That’s the way you arrived on our doorstep.”
    â€œNaked?” he asked in astonishment. “Are you joking?”
    â€œNo. I have no idea why. I don’t even know who you are.”
    â€œWho I am?” he repeated vaguely.
    Priscilla nodded. “Yes. That would be somewhere to start. What is your name?”
    He looked back at her blankly. “I—I’m not sure.” She could see panic touch his eyes. “I don’t know. I don’t know who I am!”

CHAPTER THREE
    P RISCILLA STARED . “You don’t know who you are?”
    He shook his head. “I don’t know my name. I—” He looked around the room, as if that would somehow give him the answer he wanted. He raised a hand to his head, saying, “Ow…my head hurts. I feel so strange. And dizzy.”
    â€œYou have a large knot on your head, and it bled, as well. I would say someone gave you a nasty crack. You’ve also been running a high temperature, and it isn’t back to normal yet. You passed the crisis point within the last hour or so.”
    The man eased back down onto the bed with a groan. “Does that make you lose your mind?”
    â€œI don’t know that you’ve lost your mind. Only your memory.” Priscilla tried to sound heartening, though her own heart had sunk at his words. How could someone forget who he was or what had happened to him? “Perhaps it is a result of the fever or the knock on the head. I suggest that you go back to sleep. Get some rest, and probably when you wake up you will remember everything. You know how it is when you’re sick sometimes. Things get hazy and strange.”
    â€œNot this strange,” he muttered, but he did close his eyes. A few moments later, he had slid back into the escape of sleep.
    Priscilla sat watching him, hoping that she was right. It sounded sensible. She remembered how once, when she was little, she had had a fever and imagined all sorts of strange things, even that there were little elves up in one corner of her room, where the walls met the ceiling, building a little house. It had been very disorienting and confusing; surely it wouldn’t be all that strange to forget who one was. Once the fever was gone, and he was feeling better, he would remember.
    On that optimistic note, she went into the kitchen to prepare a small