Midnight Bride. Barbara McCauley
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her, and she struggled to free her arms.
“He won’t hurt you,” Caleb reassured her, holding her tightly. “He thinks we’re playing, and he wants to join in. He’s just a big baby.”
“Playing?” Sarah croaked out. “Big baby?”
Caleb grinned down at her. “Sure. He’s hardly more than a pup.”
“A pup?” Sarah eyed the wolf warily. Its tongue hung sideways from its huge jaw, and its tail wagged furiously. “That’s like saying Moby Dick was a fish.”
With a bark, the beast lunged at her. Sarah’s scream lodged in her throat as a long, wet tongue washed over her cheek.
“Wolf!” Caleb said sternly. “Back!”
Reluctantly the animal backed up and sat on his haunches.
Though it was only seconds, it seemed like hours until Sarah could breathe again. Concern filled Caleb’s eyes as he looked down at her. “You okay?”
She nodded slowly, then drew in a calming breath.
And just as she felt herself relax, Sarah became fully aware of Caleb’s body stretched over her own. Her senses sharpened with razor precision. Every hard muscle of his lower body pressed intimately against her. His legs against hers, his thighs, the bulge of his manhood. A bulge that seemed to suddenly be growing….
Her eyes widened as she stared up at him. He gazed at her with a dark intensity that made her heart race and her stomach turn inside out. Heat radiated from his skin, burning through fabric and skin…down to her very soul. She caught the scent of coffee and soap, felt the rough texture of his callused hands on her wrists.
Her husband?
Was it truly possible she could forget a man like this? A man who turned her brain to mush and set her insides on fire? She searched the rugged lines of his face, the strong set of his jaw, the hard, sensuous mouth.
Her skin tightened, and a warm, pleasurable flush filled her. The cotton shirt she wore rubbed almost painfully against the hardened nipples of her breasts, and she became exceedingly aware of her nakedness underneath. She wanted him to touch her, to feel his skin on hers, and that realization brought a hot blush to her cheeks.
Her husband?
Could it really be? Could a woman such as herself possibly be married to a man like this? Yet that thought unto itself confused her. She hadn’t any idea what kind of woman she was.
He watched her; she saw the same primitive fierceness in his eyes that she’d seen in the wolf. She thought to use the same command on him that he’d used on the animal, but somehow she doubted that yelling back at the man would have any effect.
“Caleb,” she whispered, “let me up.”
He didn’t move.
A pulse throbbed deep in her throat, and a wild excitement swirled low in her belly. She looked at Caleb, felt the current of tension course from his body into hers. An image flashed through her mind; sensations and sounds, but no definition. The feel of his hands on her wet, bare skin…water…a warm fire.
She wasn’t ready for this—this intimacy. He was a stranger to her. A face with no memories, only feelings. Feelings that frightened her.
“Please,” she said softly, then wondered herself if it was please touch me, or please don’t.
He loosened his hold on her, then slowly rose, pulling her with him and setting her on the edge of the bed. The movement made her head swim and reminded her that someone with a tiny hammer was busy inside her head.
“You all right?”
She nodded, then winced at the pain the gesture cost her.
He sat beside her. “Here, let me take a look at that.”
She bent her head. “What happened to me?”
“You hit your head,” he said and lifted the bandage he’d applied. “Probably on a rock, or rocks, based on the number of bruises and scratches all over your body.”
She felt every one of them. She ached from one end of her body to the other. “But how did it happen?”
“I don’t know.”
“I was outside alone? In a storm?”
He hesitated, then reapplied the bandage. His fingers brushed her neck as he pulled away, and she couldn’t stop the shiver that ran along her spine.
When he didn’t answer, she looked up at him. He stared at her, his mouth hard, his eyes narrowed. There was no emotion there, and he looked at her now as if she were a stranger. One not to be trusted.
A different shiver, this time one of fear, crept through her. She tightened her hold on the blankets, trying to still the trembling in her hands. Slowly she lifted her gaze to his. “Did you…do this…to me?”
Surprise clearly registered on his face, then exasperation. “No, Sarah, I didn’t do this to you.”
She believed him. She had no idea why she should, but she did. She let out the breath she’d been holding. “But you don’t know what happened?”
He shook his head, then ran a hand through his thick black hair. She stared at his large hands, then looked at her own.
“If we’re married,” she said carefully, “where are our rings?”
He said nothing.
She went still, then whispered, “We aren’t married, are we?”
“No.”
The strangest mixture of relief and disappointment filled her.
And fear.
She closed her eyes and started to shake. What was happening? She had no idea where she was or even who she was. She was in the bed of a man she didn’t know, and she looked and felt as if she’d been the pi&n~;ata at a child’s party.
The man inside her head with a hammer switched to a chainsaw. She opened her eyes again and, through a haze of pain, focused on the stranger sitting beside her. He watched her as if he were the one confused, as if he were suspicious of her.
“Do you even know me?” she asked.
“No.”
No? She drew in a slow breath and pulled the covers closer. He’d said they were married. He’d even climbed into bed with her. That she certainly remembered. Distinctly. Had he thought to take advantage of her in her weakened state? To make her believe they were husband and wife so she wouldn’t fight him if he—
No. She didn’t believe that. He’d had every opportunity if he’d wanted to use her like that. He still did. She was weak as a kitten. He was a big, strong man. It would be impossible to stop him if he had ill intentions toward her. And besides, a man with Caleb’s looks didn’t need to trick any woman into his bed. They’d have to take a number and stand in line. A long line.
“Why…why did you lie to me?” she asked quietly.
His eyes narrowed, and the lines beside his mouth deepened. Rain battered the roof; wind whipped the branches against the window; but the silence between them closed around them like a vise. And that look was there again, in his dark eyes, in the lines between his brows. And then she realized.
He was the one who didn’t trust her.
“You were testing me, weren’t you?” she asked. “You thought I was lying when I told you I don’t know who I am.”
He stood then and looked down at her. She not only felt weak as a kitten, she suddenly felt as small as one, too. He was so tall, six-three at least, she guessed. She’d felt that body against her own, every rock-hard muscle. Everything about the man