Forbidden Stranger Read online

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  To the chocolate chip cookies I made yesterday. You’re sweet and made me happy. It’s not a euphemism. Those were some awesome cookies.

  CHAPTER ONE

  This was the wrong knife.

  Nina Bronson studied the bin of root vegetables in front of her, along with the small paring knife she held in her right hand. It had gone dull already, or at least that’s how it felt to her. Aggie Sheeran, the cook and housekeeper, had assured her that the knife was more than sharp enough for the job. Nina couldn’t think of any reason why Aggie would lie to her, but she didn’t quite believe her about the knife, either. Nina hefted it, uncertain what she was testing it for. Only knowing it didn’t feel right in her hand. It wasn’t heavy enough, not well balanced. Something. On a whim she tossed it in a circle to catch it again by the handle and looked up to see Aggie frowning at her.

  “You’ll cut your fingers off, you keep that up. And that look on your face. Be careful, it will stay that way, and then what will you do?” Aggie asked in her lilting accent as she waved her own, much larger and obviously sharper knife in Nina’s direction. The older woman pushed a few strands of silver hair off her forehead with the back of her hand and blew out a soft breath, probably at the heat in the kitchen.

  Nina wasn’t bothered by the temperature, although Aggie had already complained several times about it, along with some envious comments about how lucky Nina was that she was never too hot or too cold. Aggie blamed it on her age, which always prompted Nina to remind Aggie that she wasn’t old. It was an ongoing joke between them, but Nina didn’t mention it now. She did chuckle, though, at the idea of her face staying in a twisted grimace. “It would hardly make a difference. It’s not like I’m going to get by in the world based on my looks, but you never know when I might need to rely on my skills with a slasher.”

  She’d meant that she might need to take a job in a kitchen or something, but the look on Aggie’s face put a frown on Nina’s own. The older woman didn’t like it when Nina made reference to her scars. Nina had forgotten that it upset her. Her frown deepened at the reminder of how precarious her ability to retain information had been since waking up from the accident she could also not recall.

  “Sorry. I know you don’t like it when I complain,” Nina muttered as she picked up a turnip and tried to peel the waxy surface using the substandard knife. Her frustrated sigh slipped out before she could stop it, and she pressed her lips together to hold it back.

  It doesn’t do any good to let things like this bother you. The memories will come back, or they won’t. Focus on moving forward.

  The voice in Nina’s head didn’t sound like hers, yet it had the oddest feeling of familiarity, as though she were hearing herself through a recording. She wasn’t sure she’d ever get used to it. In the first few days after she’d woken here, every part of her in agony and nothing but a black void where her memories ought to have been, she’d heard that voice a lot.

  She’d fought it, along with everything and everyone else. Herself. The docs who came to help her. Even Aggie, Nina was ashamed to remember now. She couldn’t remember fighting Ewan Donahue, her boss, but she was certain that she had. It had taken a few months, but it was easier now, dealing with the fact she couldn’t remember anything about her life before the island. Before the accident. The voices had faded but not disappeared completely.

  “I don’t like it when you try to maim yourself helping me make stew, that’s what I don’t like,” Aggie replied crisply. “And I’ve told you before, you don’t need to bother yourself with this business. It’s my job, not yours.”

  “Is that a nice way of letting me know I should get out of your space?” Nina asked, but with a laugh, because she knew it was the truth.

  Aggie snorted a soft chuckle. “Why not go for a walk? The sun’s out. It might even be warm enough, should you be smart enough to keep off the beach.”

  Nina set the turnip and the knife aside, but shook her head. “Why bother walking, if I’m not going to walk on the beach? What’s the point of living on an island if you avoid the ocean?”

  “I only meant that it’s likely to freeze you, that’s all. The wind . . .” Aggie trailed off for a second, her expression suddenly unreadable, so that Nina had to tilt her head to study the other woman’s face curiously. “Never mind. But fine, do as you please. Bundle up. I’ll have hot tea waiting for you when you come back inside. And no rush on that. Dinner won’t be ready for hours, and I don’t need you underfoot. Go get the stink blown off you, as my old dad was fond of saying.”

  Nina didn’t take offense at the scolding, motherly as it was. It was nice, actually, to feel as though someone was looking out for her. Her parents had died along with a single sister; she could not recall their names or faces, but she did remember that they’d existed. Nina told herself often that soon she would be able to recollect her entire life, and some days she was able to convince herself that would be true. Not today, though. She pushed away the melancholy. She should be appreciating Aggie’s kindness, instead.

  “You sure you don’t need any help?” Nina ducked away from Aggie’s knife-waving hand. “All right, all right, I get the hint. I’ll get out of your way. Food’s better when someone else cooks it, anyway!”

  Nina grabbed a handful of peeled carrots from the bowl on the table and an enormous wool sweater off the hook by the garden door. Letting herself out, Nina took the porch’s stone steps two at a time, regretting her exuberance for a moment at the bottom when her feet skidded on soft, wet grass and she nearly face-planted in the garden. She glanced over her shoulder, certain Aggie would be standing in the doorway with a fondly disapproving shake of her head, but the door had shut behind her. Jerome wasn’t in the garden, either, probably because of the rain, so he hadn’t witnessed her clumsiness. At least she was spared that indignity.

  Nina was always tripping. Bumping into things, dropping them. All hands and two left feet, Aggie had said a few times, but not in a mean way. The older woman had suggested they wrap Nina in cotton or foam to help keep her safe, and while Nina had laughed at the joke, she’d held onto that for a long time as she worked hard to gain back the strength and coordination she knew, bone-deep, she’d once had. It was getting easier to find and keep her balance, but from nowhere she could discover herself spinning out of control, her feet betraying her by refusing to keep their place firmly on the ground. Sometimes it meant hitting a door frame with her shoulder on the way into a room. Sometimes it meant ending up on her hands and knees because she’d misstepped.

  Taking a deep breath, Nina straightened. Steady, at least as much as she ever was. She’d dropped a few of the carrots, so now she kicked them into the grass. She pulled the sweater over her head. Her eyes closed for a few seconds as the rough wool came down over her face, turning the sunshine into shadows. Her heart had started beating too fast in anticipation of the pain the tumble down the stairs would have brought her, but it calmed now. She sipped at the air, smelling of wool and the faintest hint of cooking oil, g