Midnight Bride Read online

  “You need to rest,” he said, and started to rise.

  “No!” She laid her hand on his arm. “I have to know something. Whatever you can tell me.”

  With a sigh, Caleb sat back down. “It was almost midnight. Wolf was unusually restless, agitated, as if he knew there was something wrong. I followed him down to the creek, which is more like a river right now, and I stumbled over you.”

  Stunned, Sarah looked at the animal, who had settled down contentedly beside the bed. “I was alone? In the middle of the night, in a storm?”

  He nodded. “Not exactly a healthy pastime.”

  She struggled to keep her mind clear, to try to comprehend even a little of what Caleb told her. “Why didn’t you take me to the hospital? Or call the police?”

  He shook his head. “The roads weren’t passable last night.”

  “And now?”

  He stared at her for a long time, then rose and walked to the window. Rain streaked the glass, and a sudden flash of lightning backlit Caleb’s tall form. Thunder rumbled close by.

  “Last night,” he said, turning to face her, “after I got you back to the cabin, you gained consciousness for a few moments. You pleaded with me not to call anyone.”

  “I pleaded with you? Why would I do that?”

  “That’s what I would like to know.”

  There it was again, she thought with confusion. The mistrust. But why? If he truly didn’t know her, or she him, why would he be suspicious? He moved toward her again, arms at his sides, carefully watching her face.

  “You begged me not to let them find you,” he said, standing beside the bed.

  “Them?” She pressed her fingers to her temple and rubbed at the stabbing pain that sliced through her head. “Who?”

  “I was hoping you might be able to tell me that,” he said without emotion. “You said, ‘no doctor, no police, don’t let them find me.’ You also had no ID on you.”

  She’d told him not to call anyone? That made no sense at all. “Is that why you don’t trust me, why you don’t believe me? You think I’m an escaped criminal and I’m on the run?” she asked incredulously.

  “You could be anyone, darlin’,” Caleb said dryly. “But one thing is clear. You were definitely on the run. From something, or somebody.”

  If she’d had the strength she would have laughed. On the run. Why would someone like her be running from anyone? Ridiculous. Except—she closed her eyes as the pain became nearly unbearable—she didn’t know what she was like.

  A moment passed, then she felt Caleb lift her head and press two aspirin into her mouth. She didn’t want them, she wanted her head to be clear so she could think.

  But what good would it do to fight him? He was right; she did need to rest. She could think later, sort it out. Surely by the time she woke up, she would have her memory back, and she could call someone to come get her. Just an hour or two, then the pieces would fall in place.

  You could be anyone. Caleb’s words sent a chill up her spine.

  She swallowed when he held the water glass to her lips. His hands were gentle as he laid her head back down. Her lids were heavy, but she forced them open.

  “Hey, Caleb,” she murmured as he turned to leave.

  He looked back at her. “Yeah?”

  “I think I liked it better when we were married.”

  Caleb finished unloading the groceries he’d picked up in town, then moved into the living room. The fire he’d started almost two hours before was nearly gone, and a chill had settled into the cabin. Sparks flew when he threw three more logs into the fireplace, and new flames crackled to life.

  After Sarah had fallen back asleep, there’d been a break in the storm and he’d decided to drive into town while the roads were passable. He’d made some inquiries—whether there’d been any accidents on the mountain during the storm or if any strangers had been in—but no one had seen or heard anything unusual. He’d also stopped by the sheriff’s for a casual chat, but again, nothing. After buying a few things, he’d hurried back to the cabin just in time for the sky to open up again and unleash the current downpour. Wolf, who’d been posted outside Sarah’s door while he’d been gone, had taken off for parts unknown, mindless of the weather.

  Caleb threw another log on the fire and brushed his hands off on his jeans. He wasn’t expecting snow, but with the temperature dropping steadily over the past couple of hours, no doubt there’d be a coat of ice outside tonight thick enough to skate on. He frowned as he realized it might be difficult getting out again for a day or two.

  Which also meant it would be difficult getting in.

  Please don’t let them find me.

  Caleb narrowed his eyes and stared into the dancing flames. Sarah’s words and the desperate tone in her voice played over and over in his mind. She’d been nearly unconscious when he’d brought her in from the storm. Why would he give credence to anything a half-drowned, incoherent female said? Especially one who’d had a knock on the head. For all he knew, she might have meant the little green men with four eyes and antenna hair.

  He knew a lot about paranoia. It ran deep, made a person suspicious of everyone from the mailman to little girls selling cookies.

  And most especially, to women who washed up on the bank of a creek in the middle of the night—right outside the door of a high-level federal government agent, whom half the agency wanted to find and reinstate in service, and the other half wanted to kill.

  He certainly wouldn’t put it past the agency to sink to a stunt like this. Sending a female operative to find him. Not to bring him back, of course. Even though it had been six months, they knew only too well that no one could bring him back until he was damn good and ready. If she was an agent, her duty would be to assess the situation and report back, nothing more.

  He smiled slowly. Between climbing into bed with her, then rolling on the floor with her this morning, she’d certainly have plenty to report. Just thinking about those long legs and how incredibly soft her body had been underneath his brought an instantaneous tightening in his lower regions. And those eyes of hers. Lord help any man who fell into those baby blues.

  With a sigh, he picked up the fireplace poker and stabbed at the logs. He just couldn’t believe that the woman he’d pulled out of mud and water in near freezing temperature worked with the government. He’d always had an uncanny ability to spot another operative, and he didn’t want to believe that the agency would stoop that low, or jeopardize the life of an agent that way.

  But hadn’t that kind of thinking nearly killed him seven months ago?

  It had killed Tom and his wife, Jenny. Agents in Caleb’s department rarely married or had families. They didn’t even have friends. It was too risky. Not only because the work was dangerous, but the threat of retaliation and blackmail against loved ones was too great. And once an agent was in this highly specialized department, they didn’t get out. If you married, your spouse took the same risks as you. Tom and Jenny had known that and taken that risk. They hadn’t even seen their first anniversary.

  Caleb’s hand tightened around the poker as he stared into the flames. He still woke up at night with the sound of the explosion, still heard Jenny’s screams….

  That operation had been one massive screwup. After he’d gotten out of the hospital, Caleb had found every man responsible and had graphically demonstrated his anger. If it hadn’t been for Mike, and the man’s rank in the department, Caleb would be in the brig right now, instead of on a leave of absence.

  Mike Townsend was the only person Caleb would ever trust again. The only man he truly called friend. They’d entered the agency at the same time fourteen years ago and had both risen quickly, with Mike choosing command positions and Caleb preferring the hands-on assignments. They’d been to hell and back together, and each of them had saved the other’s life. More than once.

  That’s why, when he’d gone to town earlier, he’d called Mike, who had sworn he hadn’t sent an agent in. But Caleb knew that
didn’t rule out the possibility someone else in the department had without Mike’s knowledge. And there was always the possibility, though remote, that she was from another department, or even less remote, from another government. Caleb had information that men—or women—would kill for. If they’d found out he was here, they might try to get at him through a woman.

  He would know soon enough. He’d mailed the water glass she’d drunk from to Mike. Her fingerprints would reveal the true identity of his mystery woman.

  “Caleb?”

  He turned sharply at the unexpected sound, the poker raised and ready to strike. She stared at him from the bedroom doorway, eyes wide, one hand clutching the top of the shirt she wore. With a curse he slowly lowered the weapon.

  Sarah’s first impulse was to bolt back into the bedroom and lock the door, but her feet wouldn’t move. She swallowed the lump in her throat and stood at the door. “I—I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to sneak up on you.”

  “You shouldn’t be up,” he said tightly.

  “I’m feeling much better.”

  Except for the light from the fire, darkness cloaked the room. Shadows flickered on Caleb’s face. He looked fierce and powerful. Dangerous. His dark gaze fell on her.

  Why was he staring at her like that? she wondered. Not just staring at her, but into her. As if he knew things she didn’t. She almost laughed at the irony of that, considering she knew nothing about herself. She felt her breath release as he set the poker back into its holder.

  “I didn’t mean to intrude.” She took a hesitant step into the room. “I thought I might use your phone.”

  He raised one brow. “And call whom?”

  “The police, to start. Maybe someone has filed a missing person’s report or they found my car.”

  He moved beside her. “I just got back from town, Sarah. There’s been no report made, no car found.”

  “That—that’s not possible,” she whispered.

  “Apparently it is.”

  The room began to spin. She reached back toward the doorway, but suddenly found herself off the ground and in Caleb’s arms.

  “I’m fine,” she protested. “Really.”

  He carried her to the fire and set her on the seat of the brick hearth. “Right. And I’m Don Quixote.”

  She touched her trembling fingers to her temple. “No. You’re much too dark and handsome. I’d say more like Bronte’s Heathcliff.”

  Sarah nearly gasped at the audacity of her words. My God, did I really say that? Heat rushed to her cheeks as she looked up at Caleb.

  He stood over her, thumbs hooked in the front loops of his jeans. Amusement lit his eyes; firelight danced in his black hair. She wanted the floor to open up and swallow her whole. Frantically she searched her aching brain, trying to think of a retraction. Oh, sure, she thought irritably, now I can’t think of a thing to say.

  “How’s your head?” he asked.

  “I think the construction crew is taking a break right now.” She caught a flash of straight white teeth just before he sat down next to her.

  “Let me take a look at it.”

  “No, really, it’s fine.”

  But he was already reaching for her, and there was nothing she could do, outside of jumping into the fire. When his thigh brushed hers, she nearly did that.

  “Turn around.” He took hold of her shoulders and turned her body until her back was to him. It was impossible to stop the shiver that raced up her spine as he swept her hair aside.

  “This might hurt.”

  It didn’t. Quite the opposite. A delicious tingling sensation skimmed over her head and neck, spreading down her shoulders. When he tugged the bandage off, the tingling only intensified.

  He angled her head toward the light of the fire. The heat from the flames burned through the cotton of her shirt and thermal underwear, but the whisper of Caleb’s breath on her neck was like a long, slow sip of warm brandy. She closed her eyes and, in spite of herself, felt herself relax as his fingers roamed the base of her neck.

  He carried the scent of the storm on his skin, she thought languidly, and something else, something even more potent, more enticing. His scent. A mixture of soap and pine and untamed masculinity. Her pulse tripped, then bolted.

  “That’s strange,” he said thoughtfully.

  She held back another shiver as his fingers combed through her hair. “What?”

  “Unusual.”

  “What?”

  “Your hair.”

  “What about my hair?”

  “It’s natural.”

  It took a moment for his words to sink in. With a cluck of annoyance, she pulled away and turned to face him. “I’ve misplaced an entire life, nearly died, and you’re making jokes.”

  “It’s not a joke. Your hair is natural.”

  He wanted to tell her that it was soft, too. Like spun silk. His hands ached to lose themselves in those golden strands. When he saw tears glisten in her eyes, he cursed his lust and let his hands fall to his sides.

  “I looked in the mirror in the bathroom,” she whispered raggedly. “A stranger stared back at me. Have you any idea what that’s like?”

  More than you could possibly know, he thought.

  “Caleb.” She lifted her gaze to his. “I want you to take me into town, to the sheriff.”

  He wanted to agree with her. For her sake, as well as his. There had to be someone looking for her-family or friends. And he sure as hell didn’t need an angry husband breaking his door down. Whatever trouble she’d gotten into was her problem, not his. It made no sense for her to stay here. No sense at all.

  But he couldn’t let go of the desperation in her voice and the fear in her eyes when he’d found her. If it had been an act, it had been a damn good one. But if it wasn’t, then someone had tried to kill her, and that someone might try again.

  “All right.” He stood and looked down at her. “Let’s say I take you in. Then what?”

  Her brow furrowed. “I—I don’t understand.”

  “As of one hour ago there was no missing person’s report or any car found. My closest neighbors, a German family named Schulz, are two miles from here, and I happen to know they’re away for the month. A rental cabin, owned by the Hamiltons, is another half mile from there, but it’s closed up right now.”

  “I didn’t fall out of the sky,” she said with frustration. Although her body felt as if she had.

  “Probably not, which means you had to come from the road off the main highway, and that’s way too far from the creek for you to have walked in the storm. Since there’s no car, that means someone brought you.”

  Her eyes popped open. “And left me?”

  “Appears that way.”

  “But why would—” She stopped suddenly as a thought came to her. Eyes wide, she stared at Caleb, her fingers nervously working at the top button of her shirt. “Do you think…is it possible that someone wanted to—”

  She couldn’t finish. It suddenly hurt to breathe. She looked away, struggling to hold on to her composure, but with a will of its own, her body started to shake.

  “No.” He took hold of her shoulders and forced her to look at him. “There was no indication of someone hurting you like that.”

  “How would you know?” she whispered hoarsely.

  “When I brought you in last night, you were covered with mud.”

  Confused, she looked at him. “And?”

  “And I had to clean you up. Your clothes weren’t torn that way.”

  “Oh…I see.” She was beginning to see. Too clearly. Up to now, she’d been too confused, too disoriented to have given a great deal of thought to her current condition and clothing. “So last night…you had to, that is you—”

  “Had to be done, Sarah. You were soaking wet, covered with an inch of mud, and bleeding. I had to get you out of your clothes and in the shower, not only to get you clean and see how badly you were hurt, but to warm you up. You’ll have to trust me that I was a perfect gentlema
n.”

  Trust him? Yes, she did have to trust him. What choice did she have? Still, the thought of him, a stranger, taking off her clothes, seeing her naked like that—

  Suddenly the image—no, more like the sensation-of a man’s wet, bare skin against her own came to her again, just as it had last night when she’d awakened the first time. Only this time she understood where it came from. Her face blossomed bright red. Her mouth dropped open as she stared at him. “Did you, were you also—”

  “‘Fraid so. It was the quickest and easiest way. I was almost as wet and muddy as you, and I’ve never taken a shower with my clothes on yet.”

  She looked quickly away as humiliation burned clear down to her toes. “Oh, my.”

  Cupping her chin with his fingertips, he lifted her face to his and smiled. “If you have a husband, I’m a dead man,” he teased.

  A husband? Did she have one? And if she did, would she be so incredibly aware of Caleb right now? The musky scent of his skin, the heat of his body, the touch of his hand on her chin? She stared at his lips and felt a strange tingling through her body. “I owe you my life,” she said quietly.

  He moved closer, and she felt the warmth of his breath on her cheek. “And Wolf.”

  She smiled at that.

  His hand dropped away. “We’ll give it a couple of days. You’ll either remember who you are, or someone will be looking for you.”

  “What if there’s no one?” Her smiled faded. “What if no one claims me?”

  Her worry cut straight to his heart. He understood, more than she could ever know. He saw himself twenty-five years ago, nine years old. Alone. Separated from Carrie, waiting for foster parents that never showed up. “Everyone has someone.”

  Her gaze leveled with his. “Do you?”

  His jaw clenched. “No.”

  Utter despair darkened her soft blue eyes, and he kicked himself for not lying.

  “Why are you doing this?” she asked. “Helping someone you don’t know?”

  Good question. He could tell her it was because she might be a government agent who had amnesia and it wouldn’t be a good idea to turn her in to the police. Or he could tell her it was because he’d help out anyone in trouble. But, of course, that was a lie.