Midnight Bride

by Barbara Mccauley

Her throat felt like sandpaper. The bed dipped low as the man sat beside her and slipped his hand behind her neck. He carefully lifted her head and offered her a drink of water from a glass on the nightstand. The cool liquid eased the tightness in her throat.

  “Who are you?” she asked hoarsely. The room was in focus now, and the persistent throb in her head quieted. “Where am I?”

  “Why, Sarah, darlin’,” the man said, “after all we’ve meant to each other, you don’t remember me?”

  Confused, she stared at the man. Was that sarcasm she heard in his voice? “Why…why did you call me Sarah?”

  He lifted one dark brow. “What should I call you?”

  She opened her mouth, but no sound came out.

  What should I call you?

  The pounding in her head increased. Her name.

  What was her name?

  “I—I don’t know,” she said weakly.

  He narrowed his eyes. “You don’t remember your name?”

  She closed her eyes against the encroaching pain. “No.”

  The weight on the bed shifted, and her eyes flew open again as the man climbed under the covers beside her.

  That’s when she realized what she was wearing. An oversize white cotton shirt with the sleeves rolled up and a pair of thermal underwear.

  “What are you doing?” she gasped, struggling to move away. The man draped an arm around her waist and held her still.

  “Refreshing your memory,” he said. “Is this familiar?”

  He slid a hand over her hip.

  “No!” she cried out and moved his hand away. But somehow, the touch was familiar. Yet not.

  He raised himself on one elbow and stared down at her. “It’s me, Sarah. Caleb. Certainly you remember your husband.”

  Her eyes widened. Husband?

  “You can’t be my—I can’t be your—”

  She bit her lip. How could she not know her own name? Her own husband?

  “That’s not possible,” she whispered. “I—I don’t remember you…or us…”

  He hesitated a moment, and she felt as if he were looking into her very soul, reading her deepest, darkest secrets. Secrets she didn’t even know.

  “Do you remember this?” he asked, and ran his hand up her arm, then traced her collarbone with his fingers. Her heart began to race, and her breathing came in short, quick gasps. “Or maybe you remember this?”

  His hand dropped lower, very slowly unbuttoning the top button of the shirt she wore. His knuckles brushed the swell of her breast, but his dark gaze never left hers. Her skin tightened, her body came alive with a mind all of its own. Heat coursed through her, a mixture of embarrassment and—what? Desire?

  No, she didn’t remember him, and this most certainly was not familiar. She couldn’t speak, all she could do was shake her head.

  He stopped. So did her breathing. He watched her for a long moment, then refastened the button and inched away. Reluctantly, she thought.

  “I don’t understand,” she muttered. “What’s happened to me?”

  “You hit your head,” he said. “You were…out in the storm and fell.”

  The storm. She looked toward the window, stared at the rain beating against the panes…

  She was falling…falling. River. Cold.

  She sat up quickly, then squeezed her eyes shut and gasped at the pain that shot through her head.

  “Lie back,” the man—Caleb—said. “Here, take these.” He reached toward the nightstand, then pressed something into her mouth. Aspirin. His touch was gentle, and she didn’t resist when he held the glass to her lips. She swallowed, coughing as the tablets went down her throat.

  “Get some rest now.” Caleb slipped out from under the covers. She almost reached for him, felt frightened and cold with him gone. She clutched the blankets to her instead, wishing the blasted pounding in her head would stop.

  And as the medication slowly took effect, she slipped into blessed sleep with a strange image. Her bare skin, wet and slick, against Caleb’s.

  Caleb stared out the kitchen window, listening to the coffee percolate as the sky transformed from inky black to dusty gray. Rain fell steadily, alternating between hail and sleet, though not with the intensity of the night before. The thunder had moved north and was no more than an occasional distant rumble. He knew from experience the storm wasn’t finished just yet. Before the day was through, there would undoubtedly be another assault.

  And before the day was through, he also intended to have some answers.

  Sarah. He glanced at the wall separating the kitchen from the bedroom. He wasn’t even sure that was her name, but for now it would have to do.

  A scratch at the back door caught Caleb’s attention, and he let a soggy Wolf inside. The animal gave himself a shake, then padded across the kitchen into the living room. Caleb frowned at the paw prints on the hardwood floor. They had an understanding, he and Wolf. Caleb kept his food bowl filled, and the animal in turn kept unwanted visitors, human or otherwise, at bay.

  Until last night.

  With a sigh, he poured himself a cup of coffee, then sat at the kitchen table and ran a hand over the beginning stubble of a beard. So what did he know about his midnight intruder? She was probably in her midtwenties, approximately five foot three, maybe 110 pounds dripping wet, shoulder-length pale blond hair. Blue eyes. He remembered his initial reaction to those eyes, then frowned and continued his evaluation. Identifying marks: one small scar on her inside right elbow, approximately two and a half centimeters, and a small, heart-shaped mole on her left thigh. Caleb smiled. A very nicely shaped thigh at that, but he doubted that his mystery woman would appreciate that opinion.

  She hadn’t been dressed for a hike in the mountains, carried no identification, wore no wedding band. Her hands and legs were badly scratched, and she had a minor laceration behind her left ear.

  And no memory.

  He leaned back in his chair and took a swallow of the strong coffee. She was either telling the truth about not knowing who she was or was one hell of a good liar. He’d made up the story about being her husband and climbed into bed with her just to rattle her. Instead, he’d been the one rattled. The innocence that had shimmered from her was like a punch in the gut.

  True, he’d been without female companionship for a long time, but he’d never remembered any woman being so soft, so delicate, or smelling so sweet. No woman had ever looked at him with such complete trust. Or made him feel like such a complete heel. He’d spent the rest of the night on the couch, alternating between sleep and listening for any sounds from the bedroom, but there’d been nothing.

  If she hadn’t been sent here to find him, then who the hell was she? Beautiful women didn’t just fall out of the sky. He was more than a mile in from the main road, and the closest rental cabin was more than two miles away. She couldn’t have walked. Not in this storm. She had to have a car somewhere. Or be with someone who had a car.

  Please don’t let them find me, she’d said.

  Don’t let who find her? And why had she begged him not to call the police or a doctor? Caleb narrowed his eyes as he stared at the steam rising from his coffee. If he was being set up, she was doing one hell of a job.

  Which gave him all the more reason not to trust her.

  He shoved his cup aside. He’d go back down to the creek later when the storm eased and check out the area. But right now he had lots of questions and no patience. It was time for Sleeping Beauty to wake up. He rose and headed for the bedroom.

  Her scream stopped him halfway.

  Two

  Sarah threw the covers over her head and attempted to burrow herself into the bed. When she felt the mattress dip, she screamed again.

  “Sarah!” Strong, large hands grabbed her shoulders. “What’s the matter?”

  “An animal!” She buried herself as deeply under the blankets as possible. “There’s a wild animal in your bedroom!”

  The hands stilled, then she heard a deep chuckle. “
It’s only Wolf.”

  “A wolf!” She huddled closer to Caleb. “Shootit!”

  Caleb tugged at the blankets. “Come out from under there.”

  And be eaten alive? Was he crazy? She hugged the covers tighter.

  Caleb yanked the covers off.

  Sarah squeezed her eyes shut. When the beast barked, she hollered and launched herself at Caleb, which sent them both sprawling on the floor. Caleb landed on his back, with Sarah on top of him.

  “Sarah!” He rolled her underneath him. “For God’s sake, will you stop!”

  At the sound of a deep growl inches away from her ear, Sarah went completely still. Her heart stopped, she couldn’t breathe. And with Caleb’s body on top of hers, she couldn’t move. Slowly she opened her eyes.

  Golden wolf eyes stared back.

  With a whimper, Sarah turned her head. The cold hardwood floor pressed against her cheek. Caleb’s hands circled her wrists and held them firmly to her sides. She felt herself go limp, heard the animal bark again, but it sounded far away this time, as if she were in a metal drum…

  Don’t let her get away, dammit! Kill her if you have to, but don’t let her get away!

  Kill her…kill her…kill her…

  “Sarah.”

  She heard someone calling gently. Sarah? Was that her name? The man, Caleb, had told her it was. He called to her again, and her eyelids fluttered open.

  “Sarah,” he said again, “this is Wolf. He won’t hurt you.”

  She turned her head slowly toward the animal. It cocked its massive black head as it stared down curiously at her. Panic washed through 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 in
to 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 was dark and dangerous.

  And wildly, incredibly exciting.

  “Why, Caleb?” she asked again. “Or is that really your name?”

  He nodded slowly. “It is. Caleb Hunter.”

  Hunter. How appropriate, she thought. And she was the prey. Like a cornered, frightened bird, her heart raced, but she was unable to move, even as he sat back down beside her.

  “And my name? Did you make that up?”

  He reached toward her, hesitating when she shrank back, then slipped his hand under the collar of her shirt. Her breath held as his fingers skimmed her collarbone. She felt him gently tug on a chain around her neck she hadn’t realized she wore.

  “You came with an ID tag,” he said with a crooked smile.

  Her hand brushed his as she reached up to touch the necklace. His skin was hot and rough, hers cool and smooth, a blaring reminder of his masculinity against her femininity. A woman alone, with a man she didn’t know.

  She held his gaze as he pulled away, then glanced down at the chain. Sarah. A sweeping script of gold letters. She ran her fingers over each letter, trying desperately to remember something, anything. But as before, the attempt only intensified the pounding in her head.

  The room began to spin. She swayed slightly, then felt Caleb’s hands on her shoulders, guiding her backward. The pillow cushioned her head, and her pain eased.