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fact, I don’t see why I can’t get
dressed.” Did she even have clothes to wear, other than this voluminous
nightgown? Surely if she was young and newly married, her nightwear would be
somewhat more alluring?
    Her husband—she’d have to get
used to this Cam who wasn’t really her Cam—shook his head. “Tomorrow, if the
doctor decrees it. I have already disregarded some of his wishes. He was
insistent you should remember everything yourself. However, as I have no idea
why you were attacked, I think a helping hand, or memory nudge, might be
appropriate.”
    Angie more than agreed. She
might not remember life with him, pre-waking up, if she’d even had any, but she
did feel almost her old self again. Unfortunately, it seemed it wasn’t her old
self. It was this new one. Or, she thought semi-hysterically, perhaps this was her old self . Lord, this is so confusing.   It was no wonder her head hurt. Two Angies , two lives, and one Cam? She bit back the urge to laugh hysterically. After all, how could you say to a
complete stranger that you could tell them anything they needed about the
twenty-first century, but all you knew of the time they seemed to be in was
from high school history and Regency romance novels. Raunchy ones, at that.
    “Seems good
to me. If I
think it’s going to make me swoon or have hysterics or something, I’ll let you
know.”
    “Good.” He kissed her nose. “I
think you’d be more comfortable like this.” Cam lifted her slightly, so he
could sit on the end of the bed and hold her in his arms. The gesture was so
recognizable as one her own Cam did, that Angie gave in to temptation and
twisted so she could tug the bottom of his shirt out of his pantaloons and run
her fingers over his hair-roughened chest. She reached his nipples, stroking
each tiny nub until they hardened. Cam gave a sharp intake of breath and
stopped her movements.
    “Minx. That is unfair. If I
reciprocated, Doctor Taylor would have my head on a platter. Not that long ago,
we wondered if you would ever wake up. Stop teasing, and listen, or I’ll take
you back to bed and leave you alone.”
    Reluctantly, Angie let Cam move
her hand off his chest and out from under the fine linen of his shirt. She
couldn’t help but notice how his pantaloons outlined his cock, which pushed
hard at the knit material. It gave her a warm feeling to know he was affected
by her presence as she was his. Even if he wasn’t going to let her play, or
play with her, evidently it wasn’t due to disinterest.
    “Do we live in London all of
the time?” Angie asked him. “Or do we spend time in the country?” She twisted
to look up at him; something dug in her side, and she glanced downward. If it
was his cock that nudged her, it must be one of the seven
wonders of the world and be large enough to… She blanked out the images
that hit her. And fumbled between them. Her fingers
touched something hard, but nowhere near the size and shape of the cock
outlined under his clothes.
    “How did this get here?” Angie
lifted up the angel ornament and fluffed out her skirts.
    “You take it everywhere,” Cam
said. “At first I thought it an affectation, now I take it for granted. It’s a
bit battered and the diamonds around the bottom of her skirts could do with a
visit to Rundle and Bridge for cleaning, but after my mama explained its
significance to my family as well as yours, then I agreed it should be kept
close.”
    “Significance?” Angie’s head was beginning to
spin. It was just a Christmas ornament, wasn’t it? Okay, one that had been in
her family for years. However, not two hundred years. Family lore said it had been a betrothal gift to her great-great- gran from her husband-to-be in Victorian times, when
Christmas trees had just become popular. As for diamonds, Stuart had said that
the stones around the bottom of the dress were glass and tawdry. Then he’d
offered to throw it in the bin.
    “It was a family heirloom.”
    She’d agree