A Bride Worth Fighting For Page 3

  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.

  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 un
der 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.

  Chapter Four

  “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 expressio
n 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?”