"Ian?" She said his name on a whisper, as if she weren't sure he was there at all.
"Hello there, Selena."
Her face split in a wide grin and she ran for him. Just in front of him, she skidded to a stop and fell into a deep curtsy. Rising slowly, her gaze fastened on his, she extended her hand.
He felt a moment's hesitation to touch her, then cautiously reached out. Their fingers brushed, twined. Her hand felt small and soft in his. No visions came to him, no images slammed through his mind. As before, there was nothing in her mind for him to see.
"I suppose the queen taught you to curtsy."
She positively beamed at him. "Yes."
"You do it very well."
"Thank you."
"You're welcome."
He couldn't take his eyes off her face, the way her full pink lips quirked in a smile, the brightness in her gaze. She was gloriously alive, so vibrantly animated.
It was a miracle.
No, not a miracle. A scientific phenomenon.
The old excitement moved through him. He understood all at once the implications of her recovery and what it meant to him. Just standing here, smiling at him in defiance of the odds, of science, she gave him everything. The fantasy came rushing back.
He could study her, begin to understand what no doctors before him had ever truly understood.
He could be a god again.
He grinned, letting the questions wash through him, exhilarate him. How was her mind? How far had she recovered? Could she think, understand, reason? Her mind was impaired-it had to be-but how much? What lobes were damaged and what behavior did the damage impact?
Jesus, he couldn't wait to study her. "You are pleased with my face," she said.
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He touched her cheek, felt the silkiness of her skin against his roughened fingertip. "You're beautiful."
"I see in the miner that it is much butter. Better. Now you will stay 'with me?" "I don't understand." "Now I am not so ugly."
His smile slowly faded. He considered the selfishness of his departure and was ashamed. "I did not leave because you were ugly, Selena. I left because I was ugly." She stepped closer, turned her face up to him. A slow, stunning smile crept across her face. "You are beautiful, Ian."
It was surprising, the warmth her naive words caused. "Women are beautiful, Selena. Men are handsome."
She frowned briefly. "Oh." Then her smile came back full force. "You will test me again?" He nodded. "If you'll let me." She laughed. It was a low, throaty purr that didn't match her angelic face at all. A whore's laugh, whiskey-soft and seductive. "I shall let you do anything you wish to me, Ian. I have been waiting for you."
Such simplicity, such innocence. She clearly had no idea of the sexual innuendo of her words. He wondered what level her mind operated at-was she like Lara, a child in a woman's body, or was she still amnesiac?
"And I have been waiting for you, Selena," he said softly, realizing how true the words were. For six long years he'd been waiting for a patient, someone who needed him, someone who could give him back the promise of his past. And she was here, at Lethe House, smiling up at him with the guileless joy of a child. Understanding her would change medical history.
"I am pleased at the thought of more tests. I shall pass this time most certainly."
He smiled and offered her his arm. Together they strolled through the forest back toward the house.
For the first time in years, he couldn't wait for the next minute to take place, the next moment.
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The medical mystery was inside her, waiting for him to discover. Him and him alone.