A Royal Amnesia Scandal

The moment had been so consuming, so mind-blowing. That’s when she knew Luc hadn’t remembered anything, or he would’ve been angry to be in that position with her.

So when the tears fell, she’d had no way to stop them.

What should’ve been a beautiful moment was tarnished by the situation. She hadn’t expected Luc to be so powerful in bed. She truly had no idea how she’d hold him off from becoming intimate now that they’d shared such passion.

Kate had eased from the bed early this morning. Her vow to leave and sleep on the couch as soon as he fell asleep had gone out the window. After his mission to relax her had been a success, she’d been dead to the world.

How had this bizarre scenario spiraled so far out of control? She’d just spent the night in her boss’s arms, a boss who was a prince, a boss who thought she was his fiancée. He was a man who prided himself on control and keeping his professional and personal lives separate. The rule was very clear at the palace.

Everything that had happened in the past eighteen hours was a colossal mess.

Kate had hurried back to her cottage early this morning while Luc slept. She’d managed to smuggle a couple sundresses and her swimsuit over. That should get her through the next few days, though she prayed she wouldn’t be here that long.

Her cell phone vibrated in the pocket of her short dress. Pulling it out, she was thankful the service seemed to be holding up. The doctor’s name lit up her screen.

“Good morning, Dr. Couchot,” she said, as if she hadn’t had the most life-altering night she’d ever experienced.

“Kate, how is Luc this morning?”

Glancing over her shoulder toward the open patio doors, she saw him still sprawled out on the bed, asleep. She kept checking on him, but he’d grumble and roll back over. She had to assume he was fine, since he was resting so well.

“He’s sleeping in today,” she told the doctor, turning back to watch the gentle waves ebb and flow against the shoreline. “He was exhausted last night.”

“I imagine so. Still nothing new to report? No change in the memory or new symptoms?”

Kate leaned against the wrought-iron railing and wondered if the toe-curling intimacy was worth reporting. Probably best to leave that out of the conversation.

“No. He’s the same.”

The same sexy, determined, controlling man he always was, just with a sweeter side he was willing to share. And he was oh so giving between the sheets...

Dr. Couchot reiterated how Kate was to just let Luc think on his own, let the memories return as slowly or as fast as his mind needed them to. As if she needed reminding. Nearly all she could focus on was keeping this colossal secret.

Once she hung up, she turned, leaning her back against the rail. Watching him sleep was probably wrong, too, but why stop now? She hadn’t done anything right since she’d gotten here. In the span of three days she’d fought with him, kissed him, come undone in his bed and played the part of the doting fiancée. How could she make thi

ngs any worse?

Kate just prayed he’d get his memory back so they could move on. The lies were eating at her and she didn’t know how she could keep up this charade.

Luc was a fighter in every way. He wouldn’t let this memory loss keep him down. He’d claw his way back up from the abyss and then...

Yeah, that was the ultimate question. And then...what? Would he hate her? Would he fire her? Would he look at her with disdain?

A sick pit formed in the depths of her stomach. Would her parents lose their jobs? Surely her mom and dad would be disappointed in her for breaking the royal protocol.

This couldn’t go on. Luc had to remember. So far she hadn’t given Luc any extra information regarding his past, and she didn’t intend to because she didn’t want to make his issue worse. But there was only so long she could go on not telling him things. The man wanted to sleep with her.

How did she keep dodging that fact when she wanted it, too?

The way he’d looked at her, with affection, was so new and so tempting. And all built on lies.

Luc called out in his sleep. Kate straightened as she slowly moved closer. When he cried out again, she still couldn’t make out what he was saying. She set her phone on the nightstand and eased down on the edge of the bed. His bronze chest stared back at her and Kate had a hard time not touching him, not running her fingertips over the tip of the tattoo that slid perfectly over one shoulder.

The sheet had dipped low, low enough to show one hip and just the edge of his black boxer briefs. She’d felt those briefs against her skin last night. More impressively, she’d felt what was beneath them.

“Tell me,” he muttered, shifting once again. His eyes were squeezed tight, as if he was trying to fight whatever image had him twisting in the sheets.

Kate froze. Was he remembering something? Would his memory come back and play through his mind like a movie?