The Wedding Dress

“You know, human bites are much more dangerous than dog bites.” She poured on another dose of peroxide. “They carry a far greater risk of infection.”

“And I need to know this why?” Jared reached past the pain to shape his lips into a raider’s smile. “You aren’t planning to bite me, are you, Ms. McDaniel?”

“Not unless you deserve it, Dr. Butler,” she fired back, but her cheeks flushed unexpectedly pink, her gaze darting away as if…what? As if she’d been having the same dangerous thought as he had? Right, mate. Dream on.

“Just where did you get your scientific information?” he asked.

“My little sister Hope’s pediatrician. You see, Hope is the youngest of all the McDaniel cousins, so when the family got together she’d bite—well, about anyone she could sink her teeth into—until the year she turned four.”

Emma dabbed at the wounds with a clean square of gauze. Jared tried to distract himself from the warmth of her other hand cradling his.

“What convinced your sister to stop?”

“My grandfather mentioned at Christmas dinner that—”

“Father Christmas doesn’t bring toys to biters?” Jared tried to joke, the image of the dime store frame rising in his memory, the smiling faces silhouetted against the brightly lit tree, the man who’d given this woman a diamond ring. Married her. Taken her to bed on their wedding night. Bad thought. Distracting, yes. But in exactly the wrong way.

“Toys my sister might have been willing to sacrifice for the pure joy of hearing her older cousins howl. Grandpa told her that a girl who bites can never be taught how to fight like a real McDaniel. Hope went cold turkey after that ultimatum, let me tell you! My mom got up from the table and kissed the old man.”

Jared chuckled. “It’s an unusual family that teaches girls to fight.”

“Unusual doesn’t even begin to describe my family. Of course, you’re safe for the moment. Being wounded in action gets you off the official McDaniel hit list.”

She bent over her work, so close he could smell the wind, the water from the burn and a hint of wet dog. Who would have thought that combination could smell good? Her brow creased, her hair falling like a curtain around their linked hands as she began to wrap gauze over the wounds. Once all were covered with layers of soft material, she ripped off a piece of white tape with her teeth and fastened the end of the bandage down securely.

“There,” she said, patting him playfully on the chest. “That’s bet—”

Jared’s breath hissed between his teeth. She drew her fingers away, sticky with blood.

“Oh, my God. You weren’t bitten here, too!” Full of regret, she touched the hard wall of his chest. “Oh, Jared.”

“It’s nothing,” he said, starting to pull away. But her fingers were already slipping buttons free. The backs of her hands skimmed his skin. He gritted his teeth against the dizzying sweet sensation as she brushed the mat of hair beneath his shirt, spreading the cloth back to expose his skin.

To hell with the measly bite the rat had managed to deal him. A man would have to be having some body part amputated not to react to this woman feathering her fingers over his chest. Even if it hadn’t been ages since he’d shagged anyone.

Jared felt his shaft harden. Heard Emma’s breath, a little too fast. He dreaded that she’d noticed he was hard as a rock, but her focus was locked on his chest. It had been a long time since a woman had looked at him like that. An even longer one since a feminine touch had wreaked such havoc on his self-control.

What would she do if he closed the space between them and eased her down onto his bed? What would she do if he covered all that feminine softness with everything that was hard and male in him? If he took her mouth in a kiss that would make them both forget to breathe? Forget everything but the primitive need to…

Snib’s right. You are daft, man! She’d probably knee you in the groin, and you’d deserve it! Things are complicated enough, having her here. Sex would only…

Feel bloody damn wonderful while Jared was in the middle of it. Trouble was, he and Emma would have to work together for the next six weeks feeling uncomfortable around each other. That is, if the lady let him…and why the devil would she? A woman like her. With a man like him? He might as well try to mate that miserable excuse of a terrier with Cruft’s best-in-show.

So say something, dammit, Jared told himself. Talk about something completely asexual. Like blood.

“Shouldn’t you have fainted sometime in the past hour?” He hoped she’d ignore the huskiness in his voice. “You know. That whole blood phobia.”

“IT WAS ALL PART of the act.” She seemed as relieved as he was to find something to talk about. “Considering my family, I’d spend half my life out cold if I were that squeamish. They don’t call us the fighting McDaniels back in Whitewater for nothing.”

He smiled, a real smile this time. Emma’s gaze dipped, drawn to the flash of white. Her breasts tingled, a melting sensation in places too dangerous to allow. He looked…feverish. He couldn’t be getting an infection this soon, but his eyes…they burned green, hot…intense.

Emma’s mouth went dry. Every bit of small talk she’d ever used in conversation flew right out of her head. Lord. She was staring at him like a ninny. She patted the wound on his chest dry, busied herself by taping a gauze pad on the injury.

“You miss them a lot, don’t you?”

Emma heard Jared’s breath hitch as the edge of her little finger skimmed his nipple.

“Miss who?”

“Your family.”

Family…That’s what she was talking about. “You’d think I’d get used to it—being gone so much. But like Mom says, they’ll always be there to come home to.”

“If you like I could send the letters you wrote out with the rest of the post.”

Emma froze, a strip of tape snarling around her fingers. “My letters?” Her stomach knotted.

Guilt suffused Jared’s rugged features. “I came up to the tower, figuring you were still asleep. You were gone.”

“That must have taken one whole glance at the bed to figure out.”

“I thought you might have hitchhiked or—”

“Hitchhiked?” Emma’s temples throbbed. “You think I’m out of my mind?”

“Or that you’d gone someplace you weren’t supposed to,” he finished, as if he hadn’t heard her. His eyes narrowed. “I was right about that much, wasn’t I? I went to look out the window, and…well, you left the thing out in front of God and everybody.”

“I wanted to make sure the ink was dry,” Emma said with measured fury. “And you forgot to pack any medieval envelopes in the chest. It sure wasn’t an invitation for you to read them.”

She pressed her hand to her stomach, feeling strangely violated as she imagined the cynical Jared Butler reading through the private, precious thoughts meant only for loving eyes. Oh, God. What had she written? She’d been trying so hard not to cry that she could hardly remember. But Jared couldn’t know that, could he? Then why was he looking at her with—damn, a hint of…pity?

“How would you feel if I read your private letters to your family?” Emma confronted him, hands on hips.

“That will never happen.”

“I suppose your work is too important for you to be bothered to drop your parents a few lines?”

Jared compressed his lips for a moment. “I don’t have any family.”

Emma stared at him. His eyes were hooded, dark with secrets. “But your father…you said…”

“He’s dead. They all are.”

Emma’s heart clenched, her fury at Jared’s intrusion paling in comparison to her runaway imagination. Picturing just how bleak her own life would be if God obliterated everybody she loved.

Jared held up his gauze-wrapped hand in surrender. “I was wrong to read the letters. I admit it. But don’t you think being chewed up in a dogfight is penance enough?”

“Not unless I was the one who got to bite you.” She hated the fact that he had a point. He might have read her letters, but he’d also saved Captain.