Abandoned Memories by MaryLu Tyndall Page A

birth.” She swiped away a tear, and James felt like a cad for bringing up such morbid memories.
    She held the ring up to him. “My father told me I was the ruby in the center and he and my mother were the topazes on either side, watching out for me.” She smiled but her voice caught.
    “They must have loved you very much,” James said. And with their death, this poor lady was left an orphan at only seventeen. Had family taken her in?
    She withdrew the ring, kissed it, and slipped it beneath her bodice. “So now you know.” She sounded disappointed.
    “I can keep a secret.”
    “It’s not a secret. It’s just mine to know and no one else’s.”
    “Then I am indeed honored you shared it with me.”
    She gave him a sly smile. “You coerced it out of me, sir. Took advantage of my weakness.”
    “Weakness? You? Never.”
    An expression akin to disbelief shadowed her face before she glanced away. He longed to bring those violet eyes back to his.
    “Friends share things about their lives.” He shifted on the hard bark. “It helps them know each other.” Did she consider him a friend? He hoped so, though he wanted so much more.
    She scooted away and peered down through the branches. “The more a person knows about someone, the more power they have over them.”
    Shock kept James silent. For several minutes, he watched her pet Stowy and gaze at the ground, no doubt searching for ants. Strands of hair blew in the breeze across her waist. “I want no power over you, Angeline.”
    “No?” Turning, she raised a disbelieving brow before glancing down again. “Everyone wants something.”
    James scratched his jaw. What had happened to make this lady so cynical?
    “The ants are gone,” she announced.
    He inched beside her and peered through the lattice of leaves toward the distant fields. Small patches of dark still moved across ground that looked gray and empty in the blaring sun. “We should wait awhile longer. Just to make sure.”
    Regardless of whether the lady or the dragon appeared, James was rather enjoying his time with Angeline. When they climbed down from this tree, only God knew what they’d have to face: the loss of their crops, all their food, perhaps even their town. And he could only hope and pray there’d been no injuries. Or deaths. But for now, he would relish being close to a woman he’d spent five months with and yet felt he hardly knew. Every moment in her company only endeared her more to him. And made him want to dig deeper and deeper to understand everything about her. He’d never felt that way about a woman. Never thought he’d find a woman interesting enough and pure and good enough to marry. Yet, here was a woman he could care for. Here was a woman he could love. Perhaps his philandering wasn’t his own fault at all. How could any man resist a woman who flaunted herself before him like a French praline?
    “I lost my father as well,” he said hoping to resurrect the conversation. “Just a few years ago.”
    She stopped petting Stowy. “Then you understand.”
    “Yes. Though I was much older than you, it was hard nonetheless.”
    She nodded but said nothing. He wanted to continue talking…wanted to find that connection they seemed to have earlier. But he couldn’t tell her that he’d been responsible for his father’s death—that he might as well have shot the man himself. Instead he said, “I was not the same person back then.”
    This piqued her interest as she swept an attentive gaze his way.
    Prompting him to continue. “I’ve done some horrible things that I’m not proud of. Shameful things.”
    She didn’t seem surprised, nor did she inquire what things. Instead, she simply stared at him with an odd approval as if he’d just informed her that he bore the bloodline of the prince of Wales.

    Angeline could hardly believe James would divulge such information. Yet once he said it, she could hardly stop herself from pressing him to reveal more. Most of her mistrust