Wife With Amnesia Read Free Page B

all right,” Matt soothed, hating that she felt the need to apologize to him when he was the one who had failed her. But then, Claire had always been quick to assume responsibility when things went wrong. While, in truth, the fault had never been hers. No, the fault lay with the heartless woman who had abandoned a battered little girl in a hurricane twenty-five years ago. The fault lay with the legal system that had failed that little girl. And the fault lay with him—for not recognizing how deeply Claire’s insecurities ran. For not considering that his attempt to find answers for her about the past would only open old wounds and be interpreted as his dissatisfaction with her as his wife. The fault was most assuredly his for not realizing that his actions would lead Claire to believe that he was one more person to whom she had given her heart only to be rejected.
    â€œI’m sure everything will come back to me in a minute. I mean, a woman just doesn’t forget her husband,” she said, the lighthearted remark at odds with the distress etched on her face.
    Matt gave her what he hoped passed as a reassuring grin. “I think forgetting a husband is a forgivable offense,” he told her, wanting to ease her anxiety. “Especially if the woman doing the forgetting has a concussion and an egg-size lump on her head that needed stitches.”
    She lifted a hand to the bandage. “I have stitches?”
    â€œAbout a dozen according to Jeff.”
    â€œJeff?”
    â€œJeff Peterson,” he explained. “Or I guess I should say Dr. Jeff Peterson. He’s the doctor who treated you when you were brought into the emergency room last night. He also happens to be an old friend.”
    She frowned again, pinched the bridge of her nose as though she were trying to process the information. “I, uh, I think I remember him. But everything’s still a bit hazy. What happened?” she asked. “How did I hurt my head?”
    Matt hesitated, once again unsure how much he should tell her or if he had already said too much. “Maybe I should get Jeff and let him explain—”
    â€œNo.” She caught his hand when he started to leave, and Matt’s body tightened at the feel of her fingers against his skin. “You tell me.”
    Matt didn’t move, didn’t breathe for several seconds as he bit back the rush of memories her touch evoked. Vivid memories of her looking at him with desire in her eyes, of those silken fingers touching other parts of his body, of him touching her…
    â€œMatt?”
    He slammed the brakes on the dangerous turn his thoughts had taken. “You were mugged,” he told her, going from lust to fury in a heartbeat at the jarring reminder of what Claire had endured. Murderous thoughts sprang to life inside him toward the lowlife who had hurt her. No matter what happened or how long it took him, he vowed, he would make the scumbag pay for hurting Claire.
    â€œMugged,” she repeated.
    What little color had crept back into her cheeks disappeared. Blasting himself for being so blunt, Matt said, “Take it easy. You’re safe now.”
    â€œIt’s just that I can’t remember,” she explained. “And the things I keep imagining…” She whooshed out a breath. “What happened?”
    When he remained silent, she whispered, “Please, Matt, tell me. I need to know.”
    â€œYou were pistol-whipped,” he said, spitting out the ugly truth. “There was a witness, a woman, who saw the whole thing. She said the guy hit you in the head with the butt of his gun, then he shoved you to the ground. That’s how you sprained your ankle.”
    The fingers holding his hand tightened. And though it didn’t seem possible for her to be any paler than she already was, her face grew even whiter. “Was I— Did he—”
    â€œNo,” Matt snapped, realizing where her thoughts were