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I’ve sent for someone who will know how to treat that blow to your head. With luck, she’ll be here soon. By tomorrow, you will likely remember everything about yourself.”
    He raised unsteady fingers to the ragged gash that ran down the left side of his skull. He had so many aches and bruises that he hadn’t noticed any in particular, but now that she mentioned it, his head throbbed like the very devil. “Tea would be…welcome.”
    â€œI’ll only be gone a few minutes,” she promised as she whisked away.
    He stared at the ceiling after she left. He had a wife . He hated that he remembered nothing about that vision of loveliness who had saved his life, nor about being married. It was easy to imagine kissing her, and a good deal more. But of actual memories he had none. It seemed damned unfair.
    He spent her absence searching his memory and trying not to knot the sheets with nervous fingers. He recognized objects around him. Bed, blanket, fire. Pinkness in the sky outside. That would be…dawn. Oddly, a second set of words shadowed the first. Palang. Kambal. Aag. He was quite sure the words meant the same as the English ones that came to mind, so he probably knew a different language, though he had no idea what it might be.
    But he had no personal memories. Again he fought the rising fear. The emotion was a screaming, vulnerable awareness that he was alone and so helpless that he didn’t even know what might threaten him.
    Strangely, deep inside he sensed that this was not the first time he had been torn away from himself. Perhaps that was why his fear was so great. But he could remember nothing about that other situation, whatever it might be.
    He had survived that earlier loss. This time he had a wife who told him he was safe. Surely she would look out for him until he was strong enough to look out for her.
    For now, he remembered the most basic fact of all: that he was male and Mariah Clarke was female.
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    Mariah clattered down to the kitchen, knowing she was blushing beet red. Why on earth had she blurted out such an outrageous claim? To tell the poor man she was his wife! The words had just popped out, almost as if Granny Rose had spoken for her.
    But he had looked so stricken to realize he remembered nothing. Terrified, in fact. When she thought about her fears of being alone in the world, she understood. It was bad enough to be alone, with no known kin and few friends, but at least she knew who she was. To have lost one’s very identity…She shuddered at the idea.
    A bizarre thought struck. She had done the wishing ritual, asking for help. Within the hour, this unusual man was delivered to her, a gift from the sea. She’d even heard her grandmother’s voice urging her to run to the shore. And she’d swear it was Granny Rose who spoke the words about her being the man’s wife.
    Mariah had originally told George Burke she had a husband, to discourage him. Could the sailor, a stranger she could claim as her spouse, be the answer to her wish? Was she being guided by Granny Rose, or simply insane?
    Her Sarah self was quite clear: she was insane. But she didn’t feel mad. Granny Rose had not been a witch or a seer, but she had been very perceptive and she believed in intuition. If something felt wrong, it probably was wrong, even if the reasons were so subtle that it was hard to identify them. Mariah had had a bad feeling about her father leaving for London, and she’d been right about that. Every day she reread the letter from the London solicitor, hoping the words would change, but they never did.
    Equally true was that if something felt right, it probably was, if one was thinking clearly. Intuition had led her to the sailor, and intuition told her she would be wise to take advantage of this opportunity to acquire a pretend husband to dismiss George Burke once and for all. It had felt right to offer the sailor the reassurance that he was not