The Princess Has Amnesia!

He stood, then walked to the door.

“Jake,” she called after him, then went nearer. “Don’t go.”

His shoulders tensed.

“I’m tired of being alone,” she said. “Day after day, you leave me. Is my company so…difficult?”

“Don’t you understand, Ana? I’m trying to do the right thing. You have a life somewhere else. When you leave here, I don’t want you to have…regrets.”

“I already have regrets, Jake…. I regret that I don’t remember who I am. But I will never regret anything we share during our time together.” Her breathing grew ragged. She was so angry she wanted to cry.

She marched out the door, without a clue as to where she was going.

And she didn’t care.

The Princess Has Amnesia!

Patricia Thayer

www.millsandboon.co.uk

To all the other ladies in the CROWN AND GLORY series:

Libby, Allison, Chris, Cara, Karen, Maureen, Elizabeth and Barbara. It was a pleasure to work with such talent. Hope we can do it again.

And to the two new men in my life, Harrison John and Griffin Thomas.

Your grandma loves you.

PATRICIA THAYER

has been writing for the past sixteen years and has published fifteen books with Silhouette. Her books have been nominated for the National Readers’ Choice Award, Virginia Romance Writers of America’s Holt Medallion and a prestigious RITA® Award. In 1997 Nothing Short of a Miracle won the Romantic Times Reviewers’ Choice Award for Best Special Edition.

Thanks to the understanding men in her life—her husband of thirty years, Steve, and her three sons and two grandsons—along with her daughter-in-law, Pat has been able to fulfill her dream of writing romance. Another dream is to own a cabin in Colorado, where she can spend her days writing and her evenings with her favorite hero, Steve. She loves to hear from readers. You can write to her at P.O. Box 6251, Anaheim, CA 92816.

Contents

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Epilogue

Prologue

Fifty-mile-an-hour winds and driving rain had shut down the Penwyck Airport. All flights in or out had been cancelled because of the fierce storm. In the tower the air traffic controller tried desperately to contact the troubled jet that had taken off just before the closure. Perspiration beaded over his body as he frantically searched the screen for the signal.

Nothing.

“Royal Bird Two, repeat your location. Over.” He spoke clearly into the microphone, then released the button praying for a miracle that the plane would reappear in his quadrant. Again he asked for verification. “Royal Bird Two repeat your location. Over.” But outside of heavy static, there was only silence.

He swallowed back the dryness in his throat and repeated the request again, then again. There was no response from the royal family’s jet.

He buzzed for help and his supervisor appeared immediately at his station. “Royal Bird Two has disappeared from our radar,” he explained, trying to keep the trembling from his voice.

“What do you mean disappeared?” the supervisor asked, unable to hide his panic. “How can that be?”

“I’m not sure. The plane could have dropped in altitude…” They all knew the worst, but no one would speak of it. Tensions ran high in this type of job, but to lose the royal family’s plane…“The last transmission from the jet was a request to change their flight pattern, hoping to get out of the weather. I cleared them, then suddenly they were gone.”

The supervisor immediately picked up the phone and called the palace. After receiving his orders, he took the controller’s seat and he tried to make contact himself. But he couldn’t summon the missing jet either.

Not ten minutes later the tower door swung open and three men rushed in. Their black suits were meant to make them blend in with the crowd, but just by their stature and presence alone, they stood out. They wore badges that proclaimed them members of the Royal Elite Team. One of the men, Jack Harrison, approached the control module and everyone stepped back. His expression was deadly serious as he glared at the supervisor.

“We have a Priority One situation here. So we will go over everything, step by step,” he ordered, then pointed out the window at the raging storm. “Princess Anastasia is out there somewhere and we have to find her.”

Chapter One

The Lear jet vibrated from turbulence as Anastasia Penwyck’s grip tightened on the armrest of her seat. Under normal circumstances, she didn’t mind flying, but this roller-coaster ride was not to her liking. Not at all.

Maybe it had been foolish of her to go off to London in such weather, but with all the madness going on at the palace recently, Ana had put her own projects aside too long. The needs of the children who had come to depend on her were important. Now that Owen had been safely returned home, she couldn’t delay what she had to do. Even if it meant she had to be up at the ungodly hour of 5:00 a.m.

It had taken some doing to convince her mother of the urgency of the trip. As a member of the royal family, Ana’s safety was always a concern. Her father, King Morgan of Penwyck, had taught her to be aware and alert. These days he had a new battle of his own to fight. For his life. Even though he was receiving the best medical care, she hated leaving him when he was still in a coma. Ana also knew the king wouldn’t want his daughter to neglect her duties.

The orphanage Marlestone House was one of Ana’s latest campaigns, and she would do anything to help these abandoned children. One of her favorite things was teaching them to ride. She’d already moved several of the palace’s gentlest horses to the home and had been giving instructions. Best of all, the media knew nothing of this. Dressed in jeans and a baseball cap, she was known to the children only as “Annie.”

But a six-year-old named Catherine couldn’t ride. Two years before, the girl’s leg had been badly mangled in an accident and never healed correctly. Ana’s search for someone to help led her to London’s top orthopedic surgeon, Dr. Thor Havenfield. A busy man, he’d informed Ana that he could meet with her before rounds at the hospital.

The plane shook again and Ana drew in a breath. Why was she so nervous? The pilot was experienced and they weren’t far from the mainland. She looked out the window, searching for the Welsh coastline, but visibility was nil. Maybe she should have waited for the weather to clear.

More turbulence! When it settled down for a moment Ana heard the pilot talking with the tower, then she felt the plane change course, but not soon enough. Lightning flashed, followed by a horrendous thunderclap. The jet shook violently this time.

Ana heard the orders being tossed back and forth between the men in the cockpit. Then there was a different tearing sound. Something was wrong with one of the engines. The jet tilted as they began to lose altitude.

Ana’s heart beat wildly. Oh, God! What was happening?

Her bodyguard, Rory, peered at her from the cockpit. “We’ve lost an engine, but we’re going to try and land the plane,” he said. “Grab some cushions from the benches and stuff them around you. Then put your head in your lap.”

“Rory, please,” she pleaded. “Tell me the truth. Are we going to…make it?”

He smiled. “I won’t let anything happen to you, Princess.”

The jet vibrated in earnest, sounding like it was breaking apart. Anastasia closed her eyes and thought about her family…. All her regrets. All the things she put off in her life. Twenty-five years was too short a time. She would never know what it was like to truly fall in love. A tear found its way down her cheek as she heard the pilot shouting.

“Mayday! Mayday! This is Royal Bird Two. We’ve lost power and we’re going to attempt to land.”

Ana buried her head in the cushions, and held on tight and prayed. Then came the awful sounds, the screeching of metal, the breaking glass, a series of sudden hard bumps and jerks. The force threatened to throw her from her seat, but her seat belt stopped her. Then the sound of her own screams…then nothing….

He can only watch as she runs toward the car. There’s nothing he can do to stop her. He tries to go after her, but something or someone is holding him back.

Terror races through him. She’s walking into a trap. No! No! Meg! “Don’t go,” he yells, but his words are only a hoarse whisper. Then a sudden explosion rocks the ground, throwing him backward as orange flames and debris shoot out in all directions, the heat scorching his skin and hair.

With a gasp, Jake Sanderstone jerked up in his bed. Sweat beaded along his naked body as he fought to pull air into his constricted lungs. Nothing worked until he began the calming exercises the doctor had recommended. Soon his breathing slowed along with his heart rate.

That was when he realized the fierce rain pounding against the cabin’s roof, and Max’s frantic barking. Combing his fingers through his hair, he stood and walked into the main room. Although not quite dawn, he could see the five-year-old shepherd mix pawing the floor by the door.

Lightning flashed again and seconds later thunder crashed, rumbling through the wooden structure. “Okay, I’ll let you out.”

Jake unlocked the rough fir door and pulled it open, allowing the cold wind in, sending a chill through his body. But it felt good. Made him feel alive. Not that he deserved to be. A rush of sadness threatened to swamp him, instead he dragged himself back to reality as the dog scampered outside.

Hearing a noise that didn’t sound related to the storm, Jake went to the edge of the porch and looked up in the sky. Off in the distance, he saw a light then made out the distinctive sound of a jet engine winding down. A pilot himself, he realized the plane was in trouble and coming down…fast. And there was nowhere to land in these mountains.

Damn! All he could do was watch as the small jet dropped out of sight, then heard a crash and the huge golden glow as flames shot up in the air. The impact and his previous training threw Jake into automatic rescue mode. He had to get out there and see if there were any survivors.

Jake rushed inside and pulled on special insulated clothing to protect him from the hard elements. There would be no rescue helicopter to help in this remote area. He was the only one. And since the area the plane went down was treacherous, he had to go in on foot. He grabbed his jacket and a backpack filled with a flashlight and other necessities for hiking, then hurried outside.

“Okay, Max.” Jake pulled on his cap. “Lead the way.”

As if the dog understood him, he took off through the brush. Jake kept up, all the time hoping that when they got to their destination, there would be a chance for survivors. The rain had slowed to a steady drizzle, but the thick foliage made the going rough through the forest. Still unfamiliar with the area after only four months, Jake trusted Max’s instincts. It was just over the rise when he inhaled the faint odor of fuel and smoke. Then he saw the row of damaged trees that the jet clipped off as it came into the meadow. Fifty yards beyond was the wreckage. Pieces of the aircraft had scattered when it broke apart on impact.

Jake arrived at the cockpit first to see it had taken the brunt of the crash. The fire was out and there were two men still strapped in their seats. He reached through the shattered glass and checked each man’s pulse. Nothing. Not that he’d expected any. He hurried on to the midsection that had separated and rested ten yards back. He checked inside, no one. Max sniffed around, then went outside, but Jake knew that someone had been sitting in one of the seats because there was fresh blood. Max began barking again.

Jake followed the sound until he caught up with the animal as he scurried through the trees. Again the rain grew heavy as Max began to bark in earnest. Jake found the dog in a group of trees. He was standing beside a body.

Jake knelt down beside Max. “Good, boy,” he praised as he went to the survivor. He took in the soaked jacket and skirt and dainty bare feet. A woman. Gently, he rolled her over and brushed her wet hair from her face. He tried to ignore the pretty face he exposed, but even with the large bump on her head, she was striking. He checked for a pulse and found one, a little weak, but she was alive. He was examining for broken bones and any other injuries when she moaned, then opened her eyes to reveal a rich blue color.

Her lips trembled. “Fire…Please…Help me,” she whispered.

“I’ll do my best, ma’am,” he said, taking the blanket from his pack and covering her cold body. He figured she’d been exposed for the past thirty minutes. They had a little protection from the rain where they were, but how bad was the storm going to get? The crashed plane wasn’t any protection either, since it was in a ravine and the heavy rain could cause flooding. He needed to get her back to the cabin and take care of her. He could deal with the others later.

He tucked the blanket over her soaked skirt and jacket. She definitely wasn’t dressed for a hike in the mountains, nor was she in any shape to. Her pupils were dilated, meaning she had a concussion. Besides, she’d been exposed to the cold rain too long. He needed to get her dry and warm. Now.

He brought her to a sitting position. “Come on, wake up.”

She blinked and stared up at him.

“I need to get you out of the weather. So that means I’ll have to carry you. It may hurt, but I’ll try and be as gentle as possible.”

No answer. Her eyes drifted shut once again.

He smiled as his hands moved to her small waist and he lifted her up and over his right shoulder in a fireman’s carry. He heard her groan and regretted his roughness, but this was the only way he could get her back to the cabin.

By the time he reached the door, they were both soaked to the skin and his legs were cramping from exhaustion. He stumbled inside and went straight to the couch in front of the fireplace and gently laid her down. Then he began tossing wood onto the grate, and set a match to the kindling. Once the fire caught, he turned back to his charge. She looked pale, and when he touched her face her skin was ice-cold.

Jake stripped off the blanket, then went to work on the expensive little blue suit that hadn’t provided much protection against the heavy rain. He unfastened the zipper, and slid the soaked material down her narrow hips, revealing long shapely legs. Next came the jacket and fancy silk blouse.

He drew in a breath when he got to the lacy underwear. Suddenly the room seemed warm. Lord! He’d been in the mountains too long if he sunk to ogling an unconscious woman. He went into the bedroom, stripped the dry blanket off the bed. Returning, he draped it over her.

With her covered, he took off the remainder of her wet clothes. After placing the articles of clothing by the fire, he took a few minutes to change into a pair of fresh jeans and a flannel shirt, which he left unbuttoned as he busied himself getting a pot of coffee started on the woodstove. He dried off Max and gave the dog some food, but decided to check the horses later.

Suddenly the woman cried out and he rushed back to the couch.

“No! No! Rory!”

“Hush,” he coaxed. “It’s okay.” She finally settled down. Who was Rory? Her husband? He looked down at her ringless finger, which didn’t mean she wasn’t married or engaged.

He cleaned and bandaged her head wound, then poured some coffee into a mug and went back to her. He managed to get a few sips into her, but she wouldn’t stop shivering.

After securing the blanket around her, he picked her up and carried her closer to the fire. He sat down with her on his lap. When he went to lay her on the rug, she moved closer against him.

“C-cold,” she whispered through her trembling. “So cold.”

“I know, I’m trying my best to remedy the situation.” He reached out and brushed the damp hair from her face.

God, she was beautiful. Her oval-shaped face was only perfected by her features, her large blue eyes, straight nose and delicate jaw adorned with a slightly dimpled chin. His gaze lowered to her mouth. Full and pouty, her lips had a rosy hue that was not only inviting…but way too tempting.

He fought off the enticement and discovered a fine gold chain hanging around her slender neck. Attached to it was a charm of some kind. He picked up the amulet to discover the finely scripted letters, A-N-A.

“Is Ana your name or your initials?” He checked her pupils again. They were dilated. “Come on, Miss Ana, you need to wake up for me.”

She groaned again, but only burrowed deeper into his chest. Somehow she worked the blanket from around her slim body and her bare skin pressed against the opening in his shirt. He sucked in a breath, trying not to think about the last time he had held a woman in his arms. But his body told him it had been far too long.

As much as he longed for some company besides Max, something told him that this beautiful woman was trouble for him. Suddenly the storm intensified. The sound of rain pounding on his roof let him know he was going to have a houseguest for a while. There was no way anyone was leaving this mountain any time soon.

She moved against him again. He closed his eyes and held back a groan as her breasts brushed against his chest. There was no breathing exercises in the world to help him now.

“Come on, sugar,” he said as his southern breeding slipped out. “Have a heart. I’m only human. Wake up and save yourself. Save the both of us.”

She could hear a man’s voice. A deep voice that was calling to her, but she couldn’t move, and her head hurt, so much that she felt tears in her eyes. Why did he want to hurt her?

She heard his voice again. “Ana, wake up.”

Ana? Who was Ana? She tried to remember, but her mind couldn’t recall anything. Another pain shot through her body as she tried to move. She cried out and felt a gentle touch accompany the man’s soothing words, along with the warmth of his breath against her face.

She fought to make her eyes open, but she couldn’t manage it. Frustration exhausted her when she couldn’t perform that simple task. She wanted to scream but was too weak. More tears made their way down her cheeks. Again she felt them being brushed away.

“Ssh, don’t cry. I’m here.”

Who was here? Please, let me wake up, she pleaded as the man’s voice faded in and out. Finally she managed to force her eyes open. Things were blurry, but she could make out the outline of a man’s head topped with black hair. She blinked again and he started coming into focus.

The first thing she noticed about him was his nearly black eyes, deep set with tiny lines fanning out from the corners. More lines etched his forehead, showing his concern.

“So you decided to wake up.” He smiled and her breath caught in her throat.

“What happened?” she asked as panic filled her. “Where am I?” She tried to look around, but the slightest movement caused her pain.

“Whoa, slow down. You had a rough time of it. You have a concussion.”

Again she tried to move and that was when she realized she was naked and he was holding her against his body. Instantly, her breasts tingled with the contact and her nipples hardened. The startled look on his face told her that he was aware of the situation, too.

Fighting the pain, she pushed against his chest. “Get away from me,” she ordered. “How dare you?” She grabbed at the blanket and covered herself as best she could, not wanting to lose any more dignity. “I demand to know why you took off my clothes.”

The man stiffened, then slowly relaxed. He raised his jean covered leg and draped his arm across his knee and nodded to the fire where her wet clothes were spread out on the bricks drying.

“By the time I got you back to the cabin, you were soaked from the rain,” he said. “The only way to keep you from getting hypothermia was to remove your wet clothes and bring your body temperature up to normal. You’d been exposed to the elements for over an hour.”

She was confused. What was she doing out in this weather? She looked around the small room. It was roughly furnished with a sofa and rocking chair, and a multicolored braided rug covered the plank floor. She had no idea where she was.

She turned back to the stranger. “Who are you?”

“My name is Jake Sanderstone.” He offered his hand. “And you are…?”

She blinked and thought, but try as she might she couldn’t come up with a name…nothing. “I don’t know.”

Chapter Two

“I don’t know who I am,” she said, still not believing it.

She closed her eyes and willed herself to remember something. Blank. Nothing. It was as if someone had erased everything in her brain. And she had absolutely no idea who she was. She looked at the stranger. “How can that be?”

His dark eyes studied her. “I’d say that nasty bump on your head might have something to do with it. You’ve been through a lot in just a few hours.”

She reached up and touched the tender area. “How did I get it?” One of a thousand questions she needed answers to. “How did I get here? Oh, God! Where am I?”

“Now, slow down. I’ll tell you as much as I can,” he promised. “You’re in a remote part of the Cambrian Mountains in Wales. Your plane lost power and came in for a crash landing.” He nodded toward the German shepherd lying by the fire. “Max woke me up and we tracked the location. By the time we got to the crash sight, you had wandered off. It took us awhile to find you, but thanks to Max again, we located you under some trees. Then I brought you back here to the cabin.”

Then he stripped her naked, she thought. None of what the man said stirred her memory. “Surely there was someone with me. Please, don’t tell me I was flying the plane.”

He glanced away, then back to her. “No, there were two men inside, the pilot and copilot. I’m sorry. They didn’t make it. As far as I know, you’re the only survivor.”

Dead. Two people were dead. She waited to feel something for the men, but nothing. She was almost ashamed of her lack of emotions. The victims could have been her friends, or members of her family.

Jake got to his feet and walked to the stove. He wanted to give her some space to sort things out. She’d had a terrible shock. Not only had her plane fallen out of the sky, she might have lost someone special to her. And when her memory returned, she’d have a lot to deal with. Something he knew about all too well.

“Did I have a wallet on me, or something that had any identification?” She looked like a waif as she brushed her tangled brown hair from her face and clutched the warm blanket like a lifeline. She was so damn appealing he had trouble speaking.

“I didn’t have much time to search the plane. The storm had worsened and once I found you, I thought best to get you somewhere dry. The temperature dropped ten degrees before we made it back here. You were pretty chilled. The only thing you have that might give a clue to your name is the charm around you neck. There are three initials, A.N.A., or it could also stand for the name Ana.”