A Bride Worth Fighting For (4 page)

Cemil released her hand and turned to Tucker. “Mr. Wilde, take some time this week to check out our plant life and conservation grounds. You won’t be disappointed.”

His eyes lit up, his excitement turning him more handsome and dynamic, as he looked past her and over the grounds, his resort grudge apparently forgotten. “I look forward to it.”

He questioned Cemil about a plant along the walkway, while she continued ahead of them, soaking in the beauty of her surroundings. The sides of the path were lined with brightly colored flowers and impossibly green bushes, while in front of her, the oversized black front door to the Haus gleamed with brass accents.

From the sparkling windowpanes to the trimmed hedges to the gargoyles accenting the architecture, every detail had been attended to. Thank goodness she had a week to track down the staff in charge of each area and pick their brains. Maybe she could woo them all away to work for her.

For her?
Did she own a resort?

Hope soared in her chest, while pain sliced through her forehead. If she owned a company, who was running it right now? Who had been for the past ten months? Although positive she hadn’t run a resort before her mother died, she had worked in one, possibly at a management level. She couldn’t remember the exact details, but she understood and loved the resort and hotel business.

Unfortunately, she hadn’t come to this place for business. She’d arrived as a guest, and a broken one, at that. So she entered the lodge and, instead of taking her time to assess the indoor environment, focused on the check-in desk. “I’m Gwen Fairfax.”

The woman behind the desk flipped over a playing card, hesitated, and then turned over a second card.

Gwen cleared her throat. Okay, so the resort might be perfect, but the staff had some room for improvement. “Actually, the reservation might not be under my name. I’m with—”

“Tucker Wilde, I know,” the woman said. “But I’m going to give you your own room for now and let the two of you work out whatever sleeping arrangements you’re comfortable with.”

Gwen nearly wilted with relief, taking back everything she’d just thought about the woman. The staff was perfect. “Thank you.” She glanced at the woman’s name tag. “Thank you, Dominique.”

“Myron,” the clerk corrected.

“Oh, but—never mind.” Gwen glanced behind her. Tucker and Cemil had just entered the lodge. Lowering her voice, she spoke quickly. “Is there an extra charge for the additional room? I’d like to put it on my credit card.”

Hopefully, her credit limit could handle the cost. She didn’t think she carried around debt and lived beyond her means, but she couldn’t be sure. Discovering she had a purse and cards that confirmed her identity had been enough comfort to carry her through the hospital discharge.

“It’s all taken care of,” Myron assured her, sliding a key across the counter. “Your initial fee took into account all potential upgrades. All classes and amenities are included. Don’t worry about a thing, and enjoy your stay.”

“Thanks. I’ll try.” Her head started pulsing again, as her burst of initial excitement evaporated. Or maybe the relaxing effects of the drink from the boat had worn off. She needed stronger medication than cider if she had any hope of healing.

The exotic plants, some so rare he’d only seen in pictures, some he’d never seen in his life, had distracted Tucker from the woman under his care. Now she crossed the expansive lobby, heading toward what must be the guest rooms.

“Gwen, wait.”

If she heard him, she didn’t glance back as she entered an open elevator.

“Check in first, please,” Cemil said, gesturing toward the front desk.

The elevator doors closed, and Tucker sighed. She’d be all right without him. She was a grown woman, not a child. But since she’d awoken from the coma, she seemed so fragile and in need of protection, and the perception had only increased since they’d embarked on their trip.

Apart from her healing, he needed to be with her to figure out her role in Darlene’s latest scheme. A week no longer seemed enough time to discover all her secrets. After giving his name to the check-in clerk, he tapped his foot while she took her sweet time giving him his room assignment.

If he had his choice, he’d prefer to sleep under the stars. In fact, he couldn’t have cared less about the formality of accommodations. He wouldn’t spend any time in his room when he could be outside studying the plants instead.

But he needed to find Gwen’s room and check on her first. Clutching his key, he took the elevator to the third floor. The hall was empty, and all the doors were closed, giving him no clue which room belonged to her. He should have asked before he walked away from the desk. Since he hadn’t, he went to his room. He’d call the front desk to connect him to her.

As soon as he opened the door, a pungent smell of incense hit his face. Yuck. Give him the natural scent of blooming flowers and a fresh breeze, not this cloying haze. He needed to get rid of the stench and open a window to air out the place. He crossed the room to the smoldering bowl, the haze in the room filling his brain with a weird mental fog.

“Geez, Sage, how much did you drug him?”

“I fixed the appropriate strength, so normal breathing from across the room would allow him to nap long enough for the portal to open and close again. I didn’t expect him to inhale straight from the bowl.”

Drugs? Portal? Tucker struggled to open his eyes. His head swam. He hadn’t had a hangover this bad since college. A huge burly guy and a wispy blonde woman stood over him. He blinked until he saw only one of each of them. “What’s going on?”

“It’s dinnertime,” the guy said. “All guests are required to eat in the dining room. I’m Rekkus, head of security for the Wiccan Haus. I have the dubious honor of throwing you over my shoulder and hauling you down the hall if you refuse.”

He sat up, his muscles protesting. No wonder. He’d either fallen asleep or passed out on the hardwood floor. The incense. Damn. He needed to get out of this place and sleep under the stars. “Why would I refuse?”

“Good answer.” Rekkus nodded. “Now we need to collect your mate.”

“Not his mate.” Sage, the small blonde, elbowed him. “They’re humans, not shifters.”

Tucker failed to comprehend the strange terminology, but he understood who they were referring to. He jumped to his feet. “Gwen. Where is she? You’d better not have drugged her.”

She was so fragile. If their drug had knocked him out, God knew how it had affected her.

Sage placed her hand on his sleeve. “She’s sleeping. She needs it, so I wanted to wait as long as possible before we disturbed her.”

Like he would take the word of someone who purposely and unapologetically knocked people out. But he’d evaluate Gwen’s state before he blasted the Wiccan Haus staff for their unethical, not to mention illegal, treatment of guests. He followed the others out of the room, mentally preparing how to evacuate her from the island.

“Dinner.” Rekkus rapped on the door across the hall, tapping his foot on the floor as he waited. He lifted his fist again. The door opened before he made contact.

Gwen stood on the other side. She blinked, her reddish-brown hair rumpled. A red line creased one cheek, as if she’d just rolled out of bed.

“How did you sleep?” Sage asked.

“Amazing.” She smiled, her eyes lighting up. “Gosh, I feel so refreshed and sharper than I can remember.” She paused, her expression dimming. “Which really isn’t that long.”

“It’s a step in the right direction,” Sage said. “Grab your shoes, and we’ll all go down to dinner together.”

“Sure.” Gwen met his gaze, and the last of her happiness vanished. She turned away and slid her feet into a pair of sandals.

His head cleared enough he could recognize the irony. This place helped her memory, while it dulled his so much he couldn’t remember anything from the moment he’d walked into his room after checking in.

He wanted to wrap his arm around her waist, but she strolled with Sage to the elevator, leaving him to follow with the big security dude. “Whatever crap was in that bowl, I want it out of my room before I return, or Gwen and I are leaving. Tonight.”

Instead of murmuring apologies and assuring him it would be gone, Rekkus laughed. “You don’t always get what you want here. But you do get what you need.”

“What the hell does that mean?” Although furious, Tucker couldn’t help respecting the guy. Whatever dubious morals led the staff to drug their guests, at least they didn’t play the ass-kissing, backstabbing games Darlene used to run Wilde Land Development.

He entered the dining room, painted dark green on one side and light green on the other, as if the preferred color had gone out of stock halfway through painting the room. Most tables were already filled, but Sage led him and Gwen to an open table for two on the far end of the light-green section.

As soon as they were seated, she left, and the serving staff set bowls of steaming-hot soup in front of them.

Gwen stirred her soup and then glanced up. “Can you tell me the story of how we met and fell in love?”

Tucker dropped his spoon, splashing broth on the tablecloth. The only love he had personal experience with was his connection with plants and the land. Somehow, he doubted she’d find being compared to a dandelion romantic. “Why are you asking?”

“Well, our story should sound familiar enough to jog something in my memory. Plus, it has to be a good story, right? After all, we’re engaged, so we already got our happy ending.” She offered a tentative smile.

“Oh, it’s a good story, all right.” But not the sappy one she expected. He reached for her hand, and his fingertips tingled with the contact. He steeled his expression not to give away his physical attraction. As long as she didn’t recall the past, he would treat her platonically, so she wouldn’t feel used or tricked when the truth came out. “When Darlene told you we were engaged, did you remember getting engaged?”

Tugging her hand free, she shook her head.

“If I tell you about us, our relationship won’t feel any more real to you. Let it evolve on its own. When you’re ready, you’ll remember.”

He didn’t relish her transition from pure sweetness to conniving manipulator or furious hater. His best hope was she’d remember he’d treated her well while they’d been together, but he couldn’t blame her if she’d scorn him for betraying her either.

Green eyes simmering with frustration, she flipped her hair over her shoulder. “Everyone tells me to let the memories come back on their own, rather than searching for facts to fill in the blanks. But everything is blank. I don’t have a single concrete fact to start with.”

He could offer some truths, even if they weren’t the pieces she cared most about uncovering. “Would you think I’m egotistical if I talked about myself?”

She returned her hand to the table, squeezing his palm. “I already know you’re not egotistical. Tell me what Tucker Wilde does when he’s not babysitting me.”

“I’m a naturalist. I got my undergrad degree in environmental science and botany, which basically means I love plants and I love the outdoors.” He paused to let his words sink in.

The nerdy-outdoorsman image turned off most women. They wanted a man with a career that offered more money or a passion they could relate to, preferably both. Adding in the probability that Darlene had corrupted Gwen to believe people who cared about the environment personified evil, his neutral topic presented more pitfalls than lying about their romance.

Her brow wrinkled. “So, do you grow plants, or are you the guy who puts signs along trails warning people not to pick the flowers?”

The tightness between his shoulders lessened at the sincere question. “A little bit of both. I work with a few conservation groups. Our goal is to reintroduce native plants in what used to be prairies and wetlands. We emphasize educating people and bringing them closer to nature while still preserving the plant life we’re trying to restore. Once the plants return, the animals and birds and fish can make a comeback, as well.”

Gwen’s face relaxed, and she leaned toward him. “This is important to you.”

“Yes.” Because she recognized and respected it, his chest swelled. His life’s work brought him in direct opposition with most land developers. His father was the only industry insider who’d understood and respected his passion. “I’m also an environmental-impact assessment specialist. Towns or government agencies hire me to study how new developments and urban expansion will affect their natural areas.”

“Can it have a good effect?”

He shrugged, accepting the inevitable consequences of so-called progress. “No. But the right choices can provide people with the amenities they want while minimizing the footprint we leave on the environment. By educating people on conservation efforts, I can instill a passion for saving our natural areas. Then when those people make business decisions, they have the power to make a positive impact.”

“Exactly what are conservation efforts? Reintroducing native plants as you mentioned earlier?” she asked, as the staff whisked away their empty soup bowls and set out the main course.

“That’s part of it.” He started to explain, haltingly at first, but the more he talked, the more questions she asked, each more thoughtful and engaged than the last. Too soon, the staff had cleared their empty plates away, and they sat at the table with only their tepid teacups.

He’d dreamed of finding a woman he could talk with for hours without boring her to death, a soul mate who would care about protecting the natural environment as much as he did. They would challenge each other to do more and see more possibilities.

Gwen wrapped her hands around her mug and lifted it to her lips. “So I already knew all this about you?”

The soul-mate vision shattered. They had nothing in common. Whatever his brother and stepmother had told her about his occupation, he had to assume she’d been working against his efforts.

“Maybe not all of it,” he acknowledged.

“I’m glad I know now.” She smiled into his eyes.

“I’m glad you do, too.” Whatever happened when she regained her memories, at least he’d been able to present his stance in a non-confrontational manner. She’d heard him out without letting her own or Darlene’s opinions color her views. He hadn’t had such a heartfelt, calm discussion with anyone since before his father’s first stroke. Damn, he missed those talks.