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tasted it like an exotic fruit. “No. Should it?”
    â€œThat’s your name, my love. You are Miranda Stonecypher, and I am Ian MacVane.”
    â€œMy betrothed.”
    â€œYour betrothed.”
    She clasped her hands demurely in front of her. “Were we in love?”
    The question took him by surprise. In love. He almost laughed aloud at the thought. Love was something that didn’t happen to Ian Dale MacVane. It simply wasn’t meant to be. Yet here she stood, all innocence, brimming with hope.
    â€œWell?” she prompted. “Was it a love match?”
    â€œVery much so.” How easy it was to gaze into her wide, trusting eyes and lie. “We were deeply in love.” He traced his fingers along her jawline. “I still am.”
    â€œOh, my.” Her slender throat moved sinuously as she swallowed hard. “And we were to be married?”
    His thoughts came together swiftly. “Aye, we were going to Scotland so there would be no need to secure a special license.” Recklessly he plunged on. “And of course, you wanted to meet my people in the Highlands.”
    â€œWhy?”
    â€œBecause they’ve not met you, lass, and—”
    â€œThat’s not what I meant.” She pressed her palm to his chest. Her warmth burned into him. “Why were we going to be married?”
    â€œI thought I explained that. We love each other. We—”
    â€œBut why marriage?” Her hand crept along his chest and slid upward to skim his collarbone. He wondered if she was at all aware that by touching him this way, she was breaking every rule of proper behavior. He wondered if she cared.
    â€œMarriage is the institution of a corrupt society, designed to enslave women,” she stated.
    Ian could barely think. Was she naive or simply bold, touching him like this? He had been caressed more intimately by more brazen women, to be sure, but there was a compelling quality to the way Miranda slid her long-fingered hands over him.
    â€œWho told you that?” he asked. “Did you learn it by reading Mary Wollstonecraft?”
    â€œI suppose so. Dr. Beckworth urged me to remember things. It is odd. I can recite whole passages by heart, yet I can’t even recall my name—” She backed away as a violent shudder racked her. “You can’t know how frustrating it is.”
    An outraged female yell drifted in from the common room.
    He saw something flicker in her eyes—fear. Settling his hands on her shoulders, he asked, “What is it?”
    â€œThis is a place of corruption. I—I wasn’t prepared for that.”
    A chill prickled down his neck. “What do you mean?”
    She folded her arms in front of her. “There is a warden called Larkin. He wanted—that is, he would have—” She looked away, pressing her lips together as if loath to speak further.
    â€œMiranda, did he hurt you?”
    She shook her head. “No, and it’s silly of me to dwell on it. I convinced him that it might be dangerous to harm me.” A fond smile curved her lips. “I said I was undoubtedly a great lady, with a vast fortune and a title, and that as soon as my memory was restored, I would reward those who befriended me.”
    Ian gave silent thanks for her quick thinking.
    â€œBut lately,” she said, “he’s been eyeing me. I think he’s starting to suspect it’s a lie.”
    Ian trapped her hands in his. “I want you to come away with me. Now that I’ve found you, you need not stay here a moment longer.”
    â€œI know you claim me, but you’re a stranger. I’m sorry—”
    â€œYou’ll be safe with me,” he said.
    â€œI want to believe you, but I do not know you. I cannot go with you.” She shivered. “It’s awful here, but it’s familiar. It’s all that I know.”
    â€œBelieve me,” he whispered, lowering his mouth toward hers,