A Bride Worth Fighting For (3 page)

Excitement stirred in his gut. If this place had any vacancies, Gwen could have a week to get her memory back without anyone trying to manipulate her. No other establishment he could think of would give her even a day before Darlene started interfering.

Of course, he had to research the medical facilities available first. He wouldn’t strand her in a place lacking the capability to get her immediate medical care if she showed any signs of relapse or if her headaches raised the concern of a stroke or any other symptom requiring serious intervention.

Gwen traced her fingertips over the back of his hand, making his skin tingle with awareness. “Will you stay with me? If we spend the week together, I’ll surely remember you.”

No. She’d been his brother’s fiancée. He couldn’t go on a trip with her, no matter how platonic his intentions. Besides, he had to stay here to ensure Darlene’s power-hungry plans didn’t destroy the small remaining habitats of natural prairie plants.

On the other hand, she was so vulnerable and fragile he could hardly send her off on her own. She needed someone who would protect her. He could use the alone time to figure out how she fit into Darlene’s land-development plans. A month of hanging out at the hospital hadn’t yielded answers, and John hadn’t been able to lend any insight either.

He also couldn’t dismiss the promise he’d made as Gwen lay bleeding and unconscious on the road.
I’ll stay with you while you heal, but you have to stay with me now.

“Of course, I’ll stay with you.” He flipped his hand over to clasp her palm. “After all, I’m your fiancé.”

***

“Tucker. Wait.”

He tossed his suitcase in the back of his Jeep hybrid and slammed the door before squinting into the rising sun at his brother jogging toward him from across the street.

“I need you to help me talk to Gwen.”

Anger and resentment burned in his gut. From the moment Tucker had realized Gwen’s dress was caught in the car door, he’d stopped helping his little brother and focused his efforts on helping her. She needed him, while John had thrown away their relationship, nearly killing her in the process. “You wouldn’t need my help if you’d tried talking to her before you ran out in the middle of your wedding.”

“Yes, I should have talked first. But I never meant to hurt her. I panicked, trying to get away, and I had no idea her dress was caught. I stopped the second I realized it.”

“The police questioned me twice, trying to determine if you deliberately caused her head injuries by opening the door.” He didn’t believe his sibling had attempted murder, but, regardless, Gwen’s near-death experience could have been avoided. His life had been turned upside down, but those disruptions and changes still didn’t come close to matching the pain she continued to endure.

John flinched. “It was an accident, one I feel horribly guilty for. Worse, I can’t even apologize because I’ve been barred from visiting her so I don’t cause her more trauma.”

“When you get the chance to apologize, are you going to ask her to take you back?” Tucker’s stomach knotted. He should step aside and send John to the Wiccan Haus with Gwen. Even if they hadn’t loved each other, they’d had a real relationship. If John’s presence would be more instrumental in her healing, he needed to be with her, no matter how protective and personally involved Tucker had become since shouldering the “fiancé” label.

“No, the wedding is off for good,” John said. “But I wanted to talk to her about what business deal she’d hoped to accomplish by marrying me, so we could both salvage some success.”

Those details interested Tucker, too. Mostly, he wanted insight into whether he could trust either John or Gwen. “She didn’t tell you before the wedding what she was getting out of the marriage?”

“I didn’t ask.”

Either his brother was lying or Tucker had already established a better line of communication and trust with Gwen than John had ever had. He would risk everything by sending his brother away with her and would have no way to influence the outcome. “How do you expect her to tell you now? Number one, you violated her trust by skipping out, and number two, she doesn’t remember.”

“I’d hoped that once she saw me, she would remember. Before Darlene got me fired, I sold one car—to a lawyer, who says she can help me claim the CEO position I was promised.”

If only a strong leader would take over the company and return it to the dual progress and preservation purposes their father had operated under. But Tucker’s cynicism ran too deep for him to believe that leader could be his brother. John had a knack for being taken in by scams and empty promises. “If you get the job, will you be following Darlene’s agenda or working against her?”

“I’ll be working in the best interests of Wilde Land Development.”

For too long, those interests had directly opposed Tucker’s goals to protect the environment. He was better off operating under the assumption John and Gwen were just as conniving and coldhearted as Darlene. No way would he help any of them with their strategy until he knew exactly what they were up to.

A car veered into the driveway and slammed to a stop. “Oh, thank goodness you haven’t left yet.” Shooting John a suspicious glance, Tucker’s assistant jumped from the vehicle and pressed an envelope into his hands. “I spent all day yesterday researching at the courthouse. Read this as soon as you’re alone.”

“Thanks.” Tucker stuck the packet in a pocket of his notebook as his colleague dashed back to his car and peeled away.

“Anything I should know about?” John asked, his gaze tracking the envelope.

“Nope, I don’t think so.” Despite his own curiosity about the information his assistant had uncovered, he slapped the notebook shut.

“I’m on your side. I’m not plotting to take the company back from Darlene just so I can be her puppet.”

“I hope not,” Tucker said. “I need to go. Gwen and I have a plane to catch.” He wished he could trust his brother, but, with eight years between their ages, they’d never been particularly close, and John had been Darlene’s pawn too many times over the past decade.

“One more question. How long have you had feelings for Gwen?” John asked.

“I don’t have feelings for her, not the way you’re thinking.” Although he certainly was concerned about the threat she posed to the environmental areas he’d dedicated his life to protecting. The tingling of his skin whenever she touched him was irrelevant. “This trip has nothing to do with romance. She’s a very sick woman who needs more care than she’ll get recuperating on her own.”

“You’re right about how injured and vulnerable she is,” John said. “I hope you manage to remember it before you seduce her. One guilt-ridden Wilde brother is enough.”

Gwen sat in a warm, enclosed seating area on the ferryboat, while the other guests hung out on deck, half-enshrouded in a thick mist, the wind whipping their hair.

Tucker stood among them. As much as she’d come to depend on him over the past couple of days, she was relieved to have him more than an arm’s length away, his attention elsewhere. Since she’d awoken in the hospital, he’d been at her side nearly every moment—always solicitous, generous, and kind.

He was the perfect fiancé. And she had no memory of him. Nothing.

Oh, she understood how she’d been attracted to him. Tall, broad shouldered, wearing a motorcycle jacket open over a blue T-shirt and jeans, he looked as at home standing on the deck of the boat as he had reading a book at her bedside or driving a Jeep to the airport and then a rental car to the dock. His blond hair blew across his forehead in the wind, covering his ears in a style just long enough to be rebellious.

The beard stubble across his face, a shade darker than his hair, added to his air of danger and mystery. Her stomach dipped whenever she considered what sort of dangerous things he might want to do with her, making her half-afraid, half-hopeful an infatuation had started blossoming again.

The boat sliced forward through the choppy water, reminding her where they were headed. The current physical distance between them was only a temporary reprieve. Shooting pains attacked her forehead whenever she tried to work up the courage to ask if he’d reserved one room or two for the week.

After requesting he stay with her, she’d sound rude and ungrateful if she inquired as to how literally he’d interpreted the appeal.

“Ma’am, you have a headache? Drinking this will help.” A short woman stood in front of her, holding out a steaming mug of what smelled like hot tea.

“Oh, I—how did you know?” Of course they knew. Tucker had disclosed everything about her medical issue to ensure the staff could handle her needs and deal with any potential emergency. In all likelihood, they knew more about her than she did.

“Thank you.” Gwen curled her fingers around the mug and savored the heat, as the ceramic warmed her chilled skin. She held it against her chin and closed her eyes. The spiced steam wafted up to her nose, relaxing her, melting the sharp edge of her head pain.

After a minute, she opened her eyes. Tucker peered at her through the window. He embodied every word she’d want to use to describe the person she was engaged to—enigmatic, strong, capable, dependable, solid. She sipped the tea, but, unfortunately, the drink didn’t deluge her with a tidal wave of memories.

He pushed away from the boat railing and entered the sheltered seating area, a warm smile on his full, sensuous lips. “Did I miss refreshments?”

She tried to smile in return, but her lips refused to curve. What had she been thinking going off to spend a week with him? She’d held his hand quite a lot in the past couple of days, and his touch sent her stomach fluttering, but they hadn’t kissed. Surely, he’d expect to kiss again soon. And much more.

“The lady said this would help with my headaches.” Sipping from the mug, she searched for the little woman, but she’d disappeared. “I thought it was hot tea, but the taste of apples and cinnamon is so strong, it might be hot cider.”

She lifted it from her mouth to offer him a sip, but her hands shook. Until she could remember him, she wanted to rebuild their relationship from scratch, not jump into drinking from the same cup and other kinds of intimate sharing they’d probably done a hundred times before.

If he had the patience to stick with her, he’d prove himself a saint. But the idea of being engaged to someone so perfect that she’d never measure up didn’t sit well either.

“You drink it,” he said. “If it helps with your headaches, I want you to have every drop.”

Perfect. She took a sip, avoiding his gaze. How did Tucker Wilde end up with her?

***

Outside, a collective gasp rose from the deck. Gwen turned to the window. The mist parted, revealing a rocky shoreline in the distance, so picturesque she almost forgot to breathe. High above, on a cliff, a huge red-shingled lodge blended with the landscape—like something from a dream, too beautiful to be real. She lowered her mug. “Wow.”

“Wow is right,” Tucker echoed.

Despite the rocky cliffs, the island was lush with flowers and greenery, complementing the homey yet stately building. “What a place for a resort.”

As soon as the words slipped from her mouth, she wanted to retract them. Tucker’s single caustic reaction, his only hint of an imperfection, had been to the word “resort” when they’d read through the brochure.

The view stirred another memory, too, something better but less defined, something about resorts. Not this one. But another lodge. Not so stunning maybe. The combination of a building near the water held a familiarity and rightness she hadn’t felt about anything else, even Tucker.

She sipped from the mug and soaked in the beauty as they approached the island. Perhaps, life wouldn’t forever be a confusing jumble of missing pieces and blinding head pain. Someday she might remember who she’d been and be able to pick up her life again.

The boat docked, and the other passengers hurried off. As eager as she was to explore the island and its beautiful resort building, she stayed in her seat, not ready to deal with crowds. She gulped the remaining liquid in her mug then risked a glance at Tucker, who’d remained by her side.

Thankfully, he didn’t appear disgusted by whatever evilness he associated with resorts. In fact, he seemed entranced by the landscape, even as he settled his palm against the small of her back, guiding her off the boat ahead of him.

The gesture spoke of familiarity and protectiveness. The pressure of his touch filled her with heat and longing. Had those big, gentle hands slid all over her body before? Heat pulsed between her legs, and her nipples beaded in anticipation, but her mind recoiled. She hurried along the dock, trying to outrun her confusion. She wanted him, even though she didn’t know him at all.

A man with long blond hair offered his hand as she stepped off the dock. “I’m Cemil Rowan. On behalf of my brother and sisters, welcome to the Wiccan Haus, your home for spiritual and emotional healing this week.”

Instead of sounding trite and canned, the greeting infused her with warmth—a nonsexual sort of contentment, rather than the heat Tucker inspired in her. Unfortunately, she didn’t need spiritual or emotional healing. Her issues were all physical-intellectual. She placed her fingers on Cemil’s palm. “Thank you. I’m in love with your resort already, just from the view.”

He smiled. “You’ll love it more before the week is up, I promise you.”

Rather than flirting with her, the man spoke an irrefutable truth. She smiled back. “I believe you.”

Gulping in the majestic view of the Haus, she sighed. First impressions were so important in setting the tone for a guest’s experience. Cemil Rowan and his beautiful island lodge had nailed it.

Yes, something in her past had sent those thoughts rolling through her head. She might not have ever seen this specific resort before, but she understood something about it. A vague, undefined vision niggled, refusing to come into focus. She would take notes and pay attention to everything the Wiccan Haus had to offer. Hopefully, her vigilance would bring clarity to whatever jiggled just out of reach.