A carriage came toward them at high speed, with scant regard for the rules of the road. Abraham swore and pulled across to scrape the hedge, and slow his own pair. Once the road ahead showed no traffic, he increased their pace once more.

  "Stupid young bucks with no idea how to tool a pair or trim their reins. We won't be seeing them in the Four Horse Club anytime soon. Are you all right? Did the hedges scratch you?"

  Maggie set her bonnet on straight, and tied the ribbons around it a little tighter. It had been pushed to one side by a whippy branch, and the flowers above the ear were probably the worse for wear. However, luckily she'd missed being marked. "No, I'm unscathed, and I agree, except they did look a bit rough to be young bloods. I wouldn't be surprised if we find that equipage was stolen at the last posting inn." She'd seen how the mufflers they wore were pulled high, and their cloaks dark and somewhat shabby. It had been nigh on impossible to recognize their features. "And as to our plan? I'll be more than happy if it works," she said frankly. Argh, I wish people would stop asking that. I'm worried, scared and aware of the danger, but it has to be done. "You all seem to think it will, so all I need to do is convince Perry he wants to be Mr. Cotton. Both Nash and Felicity agree that from a distance you'd pass as Perry, especially in that cloak, so all we can do is hope. But Abe, it's an awful risk for you."

  He took a corner at speed before he answered her. Maggie grasped the sides to stop herself slipping from the seat. He was more like Perry than she'd imagined. They may both look steady and staid, but good horsemanship was evident. Caution was perhaps best described as something they were aware of, subscribed to for others, but only used themselves when applicable. For the first time she understood what attracted Judith to him. He shared the same outward steadiness as Perry and as his eyes glittered, she thought corresponding hidden depths.

  "It's a comparable danger for all of us. Nevertheless if we don't take those risks we could find ourselves without a country to take them for. I want to be proud of my part in making this somewhere safe for my children, if god is willing for me to father them, and for their children afterward. With Napoleon's supporters still active, that is less likely than it will be if we vanquish them. I suppose you could say I need to play my own part in protecting my country and this is but a small thing I can do. Now, we will be at Monksseat in less than the half hour." He glanced at Maggie and grinned. "I wish I could be a fly on the wall when I deliver Perry to you. Do not expect him to be compliant. That man is too stubborn for his own good."

  Maggie could do no more than agree. "True, but Abe, I still think I need to be with you, to er, ‘encourage’ him to come to the house." Abe snorted in amusement. "Peregrine takes no one's word without proof, and at least there you can show him the letters and … watch out." She ended on a shout as a riderless horse careened around a bend in the road straight toward the phaeton, reins flapping perilously near to its hooves.

  The phaeton rocked and swayed at a dangerous angle as Abe fought to control their horses and maneuver the carriage out of the way of danger. The riderless horse balked when it saw the vehicle, and Abraham acted.

  "Take a hold of these." He threw the reins at Maggie, who scrabbled for them and once they were in her grasp, held on as best she could. Her pulse jumped and the hairs on her arms stood on end. She would swear it was Perry's horse.

  As the animal swerved enough to miss them Abe stood and lunged for it. He flung himself sideways across the saddle and grabbed hold of the mane. The whites of the horse's eyes were large and the whinny it made sent shivers down Maggie's spine. It looked almost crazy. It reared and she bit back a shriek of alarm. The tug on her arms as the horses attached to the phaeton struggled to get away from the intruder, and moved faster and faster along the road, gathered her scattered senses. With more haste than elegance she managed to slide across the seat to be in a better position to control the pair. Then she began the gradual process of slowing them down and bringing them under control. She just had to trust to luck and his skill that Abraham was all right.

  Her steady hand and, she hoped, soothing words and tone of voice worked, and the horses slowed from a mad, panicked gallop, to a canter, and then a steady trot. When she eventually got them into a walk, they were blowing heavily, and she didn't think she was in much better a state. Her hair had escaped its neat style, and her hat was lost somewhere back along the road, no doubt adorning the hedge. She could sense her heart beating ten to the dozen, and her hands were slippery on the reins. The rush of sheer terror was a horrible feeling, and one she'd never experienced before, or ever wanted to again.

  Maggie hoped the horses hadn't done themselves a serious injury. Handing windblown horses back to Nash would be not only heartbreaking, but also humiliating as well, whatever the reason. She let them pick their own walking pace as she began to look for a gate to turn the phaeton and pair around. Ahead, the road began to bend again, and Maggie suffered the unpleasant thought that it could be miles before she could back up.

  As she crested a slight hill, the road stretched out and into the beginnings of a large thicket. Just the place for an ambush. Her pulse, which had just steadied, began to jump once more. In the distance a lone figure stumbled along toward her. She flicked the reins to quicken the horse and encourage them into a canter. If it was a trick, then she needed her speed to be such that she could get away without any problems.

  As she kept a wary eye out for anyone else in the vicinity, and the distance between them closed, Maggie was sure she recognized the man who staggered and grabbed hold of a tree before sliding to the ground. With a click of her tongue she encouraged the horses to pick up their speed, until she was close enough to see his features. Her skin crawled, and spiders danced in her stomach. The sick hollow feeling of earlier came back tenfold, and Maggie wondered if she was hallucinating.

  The horses must have sensed the need for care, because once the distance between them and the body scant yards ahead they pulled up smoothly at the slightest touch of the whip. To her everlasting relief they stood quietly as she looped the reins over a branch and ran to the man who tried to lift his head from his knees.

  "Perry? What happened?" Maggie knelt on the ground next to him with no regard for her dress, now dragging in the mud and dust.

  He looked at her, his eyes puzzled and pain showing in them. His cravat sat askew and several of the buttons on his waistcoat were missing. The tweed jacket he wore had a tear in the sleeve and all in all he looked a mess.

  "Who is Perry?" He shook his head and winced. "Who are you?" His eyes were cloudy and Maggie was fairly sure he didn't see her or their surroundings with any clarity.

  "Pardon?" Maggie wondered if she was dreaming. "Come on, this is no time for games. There's danger around, and we need to move. What do you mean?"

  "Who are you? Who is Perry?" He held out his hand. "Argh, what on earth? Why are we sitting on the ground; it's hard and damnably earthy. Help me up." She tugged and he lurched to his feet. "Thank you. Lud, I ache. Ah now you said something, but I have a question first." He paused and rubbed his hand over his eyes. "I know of no Perry, sadly I don't know you and even worse, I don't know me. Who am I?"

  Chapter Five

  "Hold on to me, let me get you into the phaeton." The voice was low and the body he leaned on all woman. Perry felt the soft plumpness of a breast against his cheek as the woman helped him up and steadied on his feet. Somehow, in another time and place, he'd nuzzled breasts such as those. Touched, nipped, and teased them before moving lower and ... and he realized the woman waited for him to move.

  "I can do it." His tongue felt as though made of wads of cotton and too large for his mouth. It was the strangest sensation, and not very pleasant. Perry wondered if his words were formed properly. "Can you understand me?"

  The lady who held him smiled. Her overall expression however remained worried, as she nodded, and he wondered what upset her.

  "Of course, why?"

  "My mouth feels as if it isn't mine," Perry replied frankly. "Although if you say I'm someone called Perry, perhaps that's not surprising. I have no recollection of who I am or who you are. It's very disconcerting."

  "You're…" She hesitated. "My husband Perry Cotton. I'm your wife Maggie."

  He considered that, and realized it sounded both right and wrong. He had no problem accepting the quiet, unassuming, and attractive lady in front of him as his wife, but the name jarred. He chose not to mention it yet.

  "Why was I on the lane? I seem to remember a horse, but you came after me in a phaeton? Is it ours?'

  She bit the side of her top lip. The gesture was familiar. A picture of her naked and straddling him as she did the very same thing flashed into his mind, and his prick stirred to life. Perry doubted he had the strength to do anything about it, even if they were somewhere acceptable. He waited, but Maggie seemed to be struggling to find an answer. No wonder something seemed wrong.

  "Well?" He prompted her and waited for what seemed like several minutes. "Or are you about to be accused of theft?"

  "Oh, no, it belongs to your employer, Mr. er… Mr. Abraham. He started to look for you, and I said I would drive in this direction to see if you were on your way."

  It sounded implausible, but Perry accepted his reasoning was not as it should be. Who hunted him? Why? Had he forgotten to do something he should? Sadly he had no way of answering his question.

  "My head hurts," he said in lieu of anything else. It was true. A nasty throb hovered behind his eyes, and hard shards of pain were stabbing his scalp. "Can we go home? Perhaps send someone to find my horse?" Perry possessed neither the strength nor the inclination to question what line of work he followed, where they were, or where they lived. He happily let her assist him into the phaeton and then slumped down on the seat. Even though he had no idea how competent she actually was, Perry judged that if his employer trusted her, he had no reason not to.

  "How long?" He closed his eyes. He felt nauseous and the skyline wouldn't stay still. "To our home." Our home, that works for me. She is part of me, that's the only thing I'm certain about.

  "Not long, just rest."

  "Hmm."

  ****

  "Perry, lord man, wake up." Someone slapped his cheeks. He wished they wouldn't. It hurt and he was in enough pain as without someone adding to it. To be cooperative, he tried to lift his arm to swat the offending hand away, but the arm wasn't being cooperative. It felt as heavy as lead, and he gave up the effort.

  "G'way."

  "I can't, you need to wake up now." His cheek was slapped, harder this time, and he screwed his face up tight. Lord, whoever assaulted him deserved applause for persistence. Perry gave into the inevitable, opened his eyes and looked up to the canopy of a bed before turning to regard the other occupants of the room.

  "I'm awake. Now. Who are you?" He decided he sounded abrupt and rude, but didn't care overmuch. He didn't recognize the dark haired man with steely eyes and a hawk nose. Nevertheless the features sent a frisson of awareness through him, and made him rub one finger along the line of his own nose.

  "Nash."

  It meant nothing but Perry nodded cautiously. "How do you do, Mr. Nash? Do you work for Mr. Abraham as well?"

  A look he couldn't fathom passed from the man to Maggie.

  "What?" Perry asked. Damn, I seem to be saying that in every sentence, it's getting annoying to me. Heavens, what it's like to anyone else? "Sorry," he said in an apologetic tone. "This is somewhat strange. I can't remember anything except, I think my horse was shying at something, and…" He rubbed his forehead. "And I think someone with their face covered was using the butt of a pistol on me. A Manton, engraved, and one I'd give my eye teeth for." He stopped speaking suddenly. "How can I remember that and not who I am or any of you?"

  "The mind is a wondrous thing, something we have very little knowledge of," the man—Nash—said. "I don't have an answer, but if you remember that, we can hope you'll remember more. Now try and rest. You're safe here. Maggie is making you some broth, and a posset to help soothe your head. I’ll be back tomorrow and hope to have more news for you." He touched Perry's cheek in a brief, caring gesture before he turned and left the room: a tall elegant man dressed casually but expensively, in clothes designed for the countryside.

  Once he departed, Perry pondered upon Nash's conversation. Why did it seem as if Nash said one thing when trying to convey something else? Why did Nash think he needed to be reassured that he was safe? He'd have to ask his wife. My wife. Those words sat well with Perry. His wife. Someone he loved and who loved him in return, of that he held no doubt. Strangely he knew whatever else happened, their love was a certainty.

  The door opened and the focus of his thought entered the room, with two steaming bowls on a tray.

  "Chicken broth, and my grandmother's pick me up," Maggie announced as she put the tray on the table. "Do you want it now or do you…" She gestured toward the cupboard attached to the bed, and blushed. The delicate red hue that warmed her skin fascinated him, even as he realized he did need to use the contents of the cupboard.

  "Cupboard," he said briefly, and she nodded.

  "Do you need me to call someone to er, well…" She giggled. "You know what I mean."

  "I'll manage." He swung his legs over the edge of the bed. "So?" He waited whilst she stared at him. Perry realized he was naked and even though he needed to make use of the facilities his cock was hard and stood proud out of its nest of dark wiry hair. "Yes, well, you have this effect on me. Surely it's always been thus? I can't imagine I can have been anything but in a state of arousal around you. Here I am, I remember nothing or no one but my prick remembers you." Some imp of mischief made him run his fingers along the length of his cock, from his balls to the red bulbous knob, and collect the tiny drop of liquid that gathered there. "It seems he's ready to make your re-acquaintance." Maggie's eyes widened and her breath came in short pants. She lifted one hand, as if to caress him and then let it drop again.

  "Ah, that will have to wait, you need to rest. I'll wait outside whilst you, er…." Maggie waved her hand toward the side of the bed. "Shout when I can come back inside to serve you." She opened the cupboard to release the commode inside, before she walked out of the room and closed the door behind her. His shout of laughter at her choice of words made his head pound.

  Stupid, idiotic…

  Nash took stock of his surroundings as he willed his hard cock to soften before he used the commode and then shut it away again. The room wasn't overlarge but big enough to hold the canopied bed, several dressers and cupboards and two deep buttoned chairs side by side near the long curtained window. It made him think about just who he was and what his situation could be. He may not be out of the top drawer, but judging by what he could see he seemed to be reasonably plump in the pocket. Or was it all his employer’s? He vowed to ask Maggie when she came back.

  He didn't have a chance. Once he called her, she tucked him in in a manner reminiscent of his nursemaid. Hold on, I had a nursemaid? So not lower class, and more than likely this is my house and chattels. Why do I remember my nursemaid? He didn't mention any of his recovered memories. Truth to tell Maggie's cossetting was pleasant and comforting, and Perry enjoyed himself. If only his head didn't thump so much. He understood there were many things he needed to think about, important things he needed to remember.

  And that thought is as scrambled as my brain.

  "Now, the doctor sent a message, and he will be here as soon as he can." Maggie rearranged two pretty vases on the mantle and didn't meet Perry's eyes. "He's with old Mr. Embleton. Poor man is at his last. Doctor Nicholls thinks it will be but an hour or so, and then he will return." Perry must have looked as surprised as he felt, because she went on to explain more. "He came whilst you were still unconscious, and reassured us you would rouse. Then he left to go to give comfort to Mr. Embleton. No one around these parts dies alone. So for now, he suggests you stay in bed and try to sleep." She tutted before she wiped one of the vases on her skirts and then put them both back where she'd found them.

  So the housekeeping is not up to scratch? Does that mean we don't spend time here? Maggie seems the sort to care about such things.

  Perry realized dusk had overtaken daylight. Contently he rested against the pillows and watch Maggie light the lamps, and close the heavy velvet curtains. As the pain in his head receded from hellish to manageable, he took better stock of his surroundings. The room was decorated in style and what furnishings there were, were elegant and expensive. Perry was positive that if he were the owner of the property he possessed more money than a humble minor landowner. Not that anyone has actually told me what I do, or indeed who I am other than Perry Cotton. Now having rested, the name Cotton sounds familiar, but not as mine. Why did he have a feeling Cotton was someone he'd used?

  Used? That was a strange thing to think, but it seemed somehow to fit.

  "What's my occupation?" he asked abruptly. "How long have we been married? Where are we? Who…"

  "Questions, questions my l … love," Maggie broke in hurriedly. He'd bet his boots she hadn't been going to say my love. He wondered what she pulled herself up over.

  "Rest, not worry over such things," she went on, and pressed a gentle kiss to his brow. Her lips were cool and soft, and she smelled of roses. The familiar scent teased his mind. There was no doubt he knew her somehow, but try as he might, someone seemingly pulled up the drawbridge and erected a big 'thou shalt not enter therein' placard on it. He wrinkled his brow, and she smoothed it with her finger. The slight roughness of her skin sent another message to him. She'd been working with them, and it seemed to contradict everything else he'd seen.

  "What did you say my occupation was?" he asked abruptly and hoped it would shock her into answering. It didn't.

 

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