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feeling so helpless.
    â€œIt’s no trouble at all. Just relax on the sofa for a bit. I’ll be right back.”
    She shrugged. “I suppose you probably know what I like to wear better than I do. Still, I could come with you. I need to figure out where everything is.”
    â€œBetter that you get dressed first. I’ll be right back.”
    He left the room abruptly, leaving Andi uneasy. Why was he so anxious for her to stay here? Like he didn’t want anyone to see her. Maybe he didn’t want people to know about her loss of memory.
    She glanced around the room, already feeling alone and worried without him. Did he have to leave? As theking, you’d think he’d just call for a servant to bring her clothes.
    Or did things not work that way anymore? When your memory had taken flight it was hard to distinguish between fairy tales and ordinary life.
    She lay back on the sofa and tried to relax. She was engaged to a handsome and caring man that she was fiercely attracted to. Maybe her real life was a fairy tale?
    Â 
    Jake strode along the corridor, hoping he wouldn’t run into anyone—which was an unfamiliar feeling for him. Usually he prided himself on being up-front and open, but right now he didn’t want anyone to know Andi had been about to leave. That felt…personal.
    He was confident she’d keep it to herself until she’d squared things with him. She’d proved over the years that she was the soul of discretion and confided in no one.
    Her job was her life. At least it had been until she decided she’d had enough of it. Hurt flared inside him that she could even consider abandoning him and Ruthenia, especially now he’d realized she was the ideal wife for him. This odd memory loss would give him a chance to turn things around and keep her here for good.
    He reached her door and slipped into the room with a sense of relief. Her packed suitcases still sat on the floor next to the bed. He closed the door and began to unpack, hanging the clothes back in the closet and placing some items in the large dresser. He intended to make it look as if she’d never thought of leaving.
    Some things startled him. A lacy pink nightgown. A pair of black stockings and garters. When had she had occasion to wear these? He didn’t think she had been on a single date since they’d moved to Ruthenia.
    Guilt speared him at the thought. She was so busy working she had no life at all outside of her job. Why had he assumed that would be enough for her?
    He placed her toiletries back in the bathroom. Handling her shampoo bottle and deodorant felt oddly intimate, like he was peeking into her private life. She had a lot of different lipsticks and he tried to arrange them upright on the bathroom shelf, though really he had no idea how she kept them.
    She looked a lot prettier without all that lipstick on. Maybe he should just ditch them and she’d be none the wiser?
    No. These were her possessions and that would be wrong.
    He arranged her eyeliner pencils and powders and bottles of makeup on the shelf, too. Did all women have so much of this stuff? She had a ridiculous assortment of hair products, too—gels and sprays and mousses—which was funny since her hair was almost always tied back in a bun.
    It took a full twenty minutes to get her bags unpacked and rearranged in some sort of convincing order. He shoved the bags under the bed and stood back to admire his handiwork.
    Too perfect. He pulled a pair of panty hose from a drawer and draped them over the bed. Better.
    He was about to leave when he remembered he was supposed to bring her back something to wear. Hmm. Mischief tickled his insides. What would he like to see her in? Not one of those stiff, bright suits she always wore.
    He pulled a pair of jeans from one of the drawers. He’d never seen her in those, so why not? A blue long-sleeved T-shirt seemed to match, and he pulled some rather fetching black