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Midnight Bride
Barbara McCauley
HALF-DROWNED. HALF-NAKED. NO MEMORY. That's how Agent Caleb hunter found the woman known to him only as Sarah. But he had reason to believe she didn't truly have amnesia and was not what she appeared. To test his theory, he hopped into bed with her, claiming to be her husband, wanting to exercise his conjugal rights. But his response was unexpected and shocking. This loner had been too long without a woman's caress… .Secluded in his remote mountain cabin, the two explored each other's bodies and hearts, knowing they only had a few days together. For beyond the cabin door, the real world - and their past secrets - beckoned, and threatened their passionate paradise… preventing them from truly becoming husband and wife.
Table of Contents
Cover Page (#u5d63234a-76c5-561c-9fe3-bc9bc1aec795)
Excerpt (#u7a33550b-87e5-585f-9553-5a4022a14b96)
Dear Reader (#u3188bfd8-0252-54cb-bbbc-dc08b371d494)
Title Page (#u375e891b-f0bd-578b-bc7a-7eb78667a414)
About the Author (#u699b91d2-6abd-5924-92d9-0bad54bb83ed)
Chapter One (#u967deeec-f80e-5ba0-9c93-84fb89c999a4)
Chapter Two (#ud71f9384-45a0-5382-b140-7b0706348c9b)
Chapter Three (#u3a138758-d0f2-57e5-8bea-63ad72b6830c)
Chapter Four (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
“Certainly You Remember Your Husband.”
Husband? How could she not know her own name? Her own husband? “You can’t be my—What are you doing?” Sarah gasped, struggling to move away.
“Refreshing your memory,” Caleb said. “Is this familiar?” He slid one hand over her hip, while his arm pinned her against the mattress.
“No!” she cried out and moved his hand away. But somehow the touch was familiar.
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 as his hand very slowly unbuttoned the top button of her shirt. His knuckles brushed the swell of her breast, but his dark gaze never left hers. Heat coursed through her.
She couldn’t possibly desire a man she didn’t even know. Could she?
Dear Reader,
This month, we begin HOLIDAY HONEYMOONS, a wonderful new cross-line continuity series written by two of your favorites—Merline Lovelace and Carole Buck. The series begins in October with Merline’s Halloween Honeymoon. Then, once a month right through February, look for holiday love stories by Merline and Carole—in Desire for November, Intimate Moments for December, back to Desire in January and concluding in Intimate Moments for Valentine’s Day. Sound confusing? It’s not—we’ll keep you posted as the series continues…and I personally guarantee that these books are keepers!
And there are other goodies in store for you. Don’t miss the fun as Cathie Linz’s delightful series THREE WEDDINGS AND A GIFT continues with Seducing Hunter. And Lass Small’s MAN OF THE MONTH, The Texas Blue Norther, is simply scrumptious.
Those of you who want an ultrasensuous love story need look no further than The Sex Test by Patty Salier. She’s part of our WOMEN TO WATCH program highlighting brand-new writers. Warning: this book is HOT!
Readers who can’t get enough of cowboys shouldn’t miss Anne Marie Winston’s Rancher’s Baby. And if you’re partial to a classic amnesia story (as I certainly am!), be sure to read Barbara McCauley’s delectable Midnight Bride.
And, as always, I’m here to listen to you—so don’t be afraid to write and tell me your thoughts about Desire!
Until next month.
Senior Editor
Please address questions and book requests to:
Silhouette Reader Service
U.S.: 3010 Walden Ave., P.O. Box 1325, Buffalo, NY 14269
Canadian: P.O. Box 609, Fort Erie, Ont. L2A 5X3
Midnight Bride
Barbara McCauley
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
Books by Barbara McCauley
Silhouette Desire
Woman Tamer #621
Man from Cougar Pass #698
Her Kind of Man #771
Whitehorn’s Woman #803
A Man Like Cade #832
Nightfire #875
*Texas Heat #917
Texas Temptation #948
Texas Pride #971
Midnight Bride #1028
*Hearts of Stone
BARBARA McCAULEY
was bom and raised in California and has spent a good portion of her life exploring the mountains, beaches and deserts so abundant there. The youngest of five children, she grew up in a small house, and her only chance for a moment alone was to sneak into the backyard with a book and quietly hide away.
With two children of her own now and a busy house hold, she still finds herself slipping away to enjoy a good novel. A daydreamer and incurable romantic, she says writing has fulfilled her most incredible dream of all: breathing life into the people in her mind and making them real. She has one loud and demanding Amazon parrot named Fred and a German shepherd named Max. When she can manage the time, she loves to sink her hands into fresh-turned soil and make things grow.
One (#ulink_f54d7bec-be5d-5389-a1ca-cb5a4082e5b7)
The wolf paced, his massive black head slung low, his long, lean legs moving soundlessly over the cabin’s hardwood floor. Flames crackled in the fireplace, reflecting in the animal’s golden eyes. Eyes that were alert, watching. Waiting.
Caleb Hunter regarded the wolf’s movements, tempted, for some strange reason, to follow suit. Outside the small cabin the wind howled and rain pummeled the A-frame roof. Inside, the scent of the storm mingled with smoke and filled the room.
But there was another scent. One that Caleb couldn’t identify, but recognized instinctively.
Danger.
The wolf recognized it, too. He lifted his nose and sniffed, straightened his ears, then whined softly. Caleb set down the book he’d been reading.
“You, too, Wolf?” Caleb asked. Though hardly an original name, it suited the beast. Caleb had found the animal several months ago, half-dead, shortly after he’d come to the San Gabriel mountains outside of Los Angeles for a “much-needed rest and recuperation.” Or so his superiors had said, shortly after he’d punched two of the bastards out.
Wolf whined again and stared at the cabin door. Lightning flashed, then thunder shook the walls. The animal’s thick black fur lifted at his nape.
His own body tense, Caleb rose from his armchair by the fire and moved beside Wolf. The animal kept his gaze fixed on the door.
“I agree,” Caleb said tightly. “What do you think we ought to do about it?”
A deep growl rumbled in Wolf’s throat, then he padded to the door and stared at the knob.
“I thought you were going to say that,” Caleb said with a sigh. He reached for the revolver he kept on the mantel, felt the weight of the cold steel on his palm. His grip tightened when the wind slammed against the doors and windows, then he slipped the weapon into the waistband of his jeans. He grabbed a flashlight, slipped on his heavy woolen jacket, then dropped a hat on his head.
Wolf bounded outside when Caleb opened the door. The wind sprayed the rain inside, and with a curse Caleb quickly closed the door behind him.
“Not a night fit for man or beast,” he grumbled, pulling his jacket up tightly around his neck. Yet here they were, two misfits that belonged nowhere. To no one. Not even each other. Caleb may have pulled a hunter’s bullet out of Wolf’s shoulder and nursed him back to health, but they both knew the time here was temporary. But then, time anywhere was temporary, Caleb thought.
Even with the flashlight it was nearly impossible to see. Lightning lit the blackness, and through the pounding storm Caleb caught a glimpse of Wolf heading through the woods toward the creek bed.
Caleb followed. The drenched ground sucked at his boots. Water sluiced off the brim of his hat. His intellect told him that he was a complete fool to be out here, an observation he decidedly agreed with. No one ever came out this way, and certainly not in this weather. The closest neighbors, who lived in a cabin two miles away, were gone for the month, and the town of Pinewood was three miles away. It was only April, too early for campers.
But still, he felt it. In the wind, on the air. It was impossible to analyze, nothing that could be explained, but it was there nonetheless. Call it instinct, gut feeling, even extrasensory. He couldn’t ignore it, he’d have been dead several times over if he had. It was the only thing he trusted blindly.
Something was out here that didn’t belong. Something or someone.
An icy blast of wind struck him full force, sending a shiver clear through to his bones. Wolf’s sharp bark several yards ahead brought Caleb’s head up. “All right, boy, all right.” He moved toward the sound. “I hear you.”
He approached the edge of the creek. Normally the water was no more than a couple of feet deep and a gentle flow, but the violent storm had created a raging current. He heard Wolf’s bark again, no more than a few feet away now. Caleb whistled shrilly, but the animal merely barked again, more insistently this time.
“It better not be a rabbit,” Caleb muttered through clenched teeth, “or so help me you’re stew.”
Caleb swung the flashlight around, and the beam of light reflected off the beating rain. Wolf’s bark turned to a growl. Caleb’s fingers tightened on the flashlight. They weren’t alone, and it sure wasn’t any rabbit.
Caleb moved warily, closer to the edge of the creek; the barrel of his gun pressed into his waist. A chill slithered up his spine, but it had nothing to do with the cold. Wolf brushed against his leg, whined, then barked again. Jaw tight, Caleb turned, intending to move farther down the bank.
What he didn’t intend was to fall over a tree limb.
The flashlight tumbled from his hands as he landed hard on his knees; mud oozed through his spread fingers. Barking, Wolf danced around him. “Son of a—”
He froze when the branch under his legs moved, then moaned.
“What the hell…?”
The dim glow of the flashlight a few feet away did little more than outline the figure he’d stumbled over. Caleb knelt beside the body and ran his hands over the limp form.
Female.
Lightning split the black sky, illuminating the woman lying on her back. She was slender, not too tall, and her clothes, a heavy sweater and thin skirt, clung to her like wet towels.
What in hell was a woman, alone, doing in the mountains at this time of year, in this kind of weather? It was suicidal or downright idiotic. And while he hadn’t the patience for either reason, he certainly couldn’t leave her here.
As if to punctuate his thought, lightning and thunder struck simultaneously. He watched the woman’s eyes fly open, and she attempted to sit. The weight of the mud held her like flypaper. He reached for the flashlight and tucked it under his arm, then took hold of her shoulders and pulled her up.
“What are you doing out here?” he yelled over the pounding rain.
Her answer was no more than a whimper. He tightened his grip on her and shook her lightly. “Are you hurt?”
Her hair hung like wet strings across her face. She blinked several times, then lifted her gaze to him. Her eyes widened in horror.
“No-o-o-o!”
She swung a fist at him and struck him on the chin, though the mud covering her hand carried more weight behind it than her punch. She struggled weakly, frantic to get away, but hadn’t the strength of a wet leaf.
“Calm down,” Caleb shouted, then lifted her in his arms and stood. He felt her resistance, heard her cry of protest. The fool woman didn’t even want to be rescued, he thought with annoyance.
Even soaking wet, she weighed no more than a feather. He balanced the flashlight under his arm and started back toward the cabin, bending his head down when a stiff gust of wind pelted them. The woman trembled in his arms and huddled against him, muttering incoherently. Her shivering was a good sign. If hypothermia had taken hold, she would have shown no reaction to the cold. He pulled her closer to him, trying to shield her drenched body, but there was little he could do in a storm this violent.
Wolf ran ahead, barking sharply if Caleb fell too far behind. By the time they reached the cabin, the temperature had dropped and the rain had turned to sleet.
“You’re one lucky lady,” he muttered roughly as he yanked open the front door. “A few more minutes out in that and you would have been a Popsicle.”
