The Wedding Dress

  Maybe so, Jared told the voice in his head. But he’d do it on his own bloody terms. Showing her how impossible it was for her to play this part, not having her driven away by parasites like Joel Feeny.

  Why should it matter why she goes, as long as her name isn’t on the credits of Lady Valiant when the movie is released?

  I don’t know why it matters, Jared argued with himself. It just does.

  “Listen, Jared,” Emma interrupted his thoughts. “I promise I’ll make sure Jake sends somebody who understands that they can’t get in your way.”

  “That won’t be necessary.”

  “Jared, you don’t understand. It’ll be open season—”

  “I’ll stay with you.” What the hell? Jared couldn’t believe the words that fell out of his mouth.

  Emma gaped. “You?”

  “Consider it more coaching in medieval life. After the siege, Sir Brannoc slept across Lady Aislinn’s door, to make certain none of her loyal retainers could spirit her away.”

  “Yes, but—” She flushed, looking about as thrilled with his suggestion as he felt. “But how would you explain…I mean, the students…what would they think…”

  “Universities send them here to think about archaeology, not my personal life.” Jared scowled, imagining all too clearly the buzz of gossip this arrangement would start with the students. Not that any of them would dare say anything to his face. Not even the brazen Veronica. Hell, who was he kidding?

  “But even if—if you did stay close by at night, that won’t fix things during the day while you’re working—”

  “You’ll stay with me during the workday.” Right, genius. Brilliant idea. You’ll be getting a world of work done with her flashing that centerfold body around. Discipline, Butler. Discipline.

  “Jared, I can’t stay with you day and night. The media will get wind of this and I can tell you how they’ll interpret it. They’ll say that you’re my lover.”

  “Anyone who knows me at all will know that’s ludicrous.” He thrust out his chin, wishing someone would take a swing at it. If only to shut him the hell up so he’d quit making these absurd propositions. “You’re the last kind of woman I’d ever fall for.”

  “Of course.” Emma turned away. For an instant Jared thought he saw something fragile in her smile. The next instant she was wisecracking again. “And yet, a hot affair with Jade Star would do wonders for your reputation down at the pub. Even if we both knew it was imaginary. You’d never have to buy your own drink again.”

  “Thanks, but no. I’d rather take my chances with the worm.”

  “The what?”

  “Never mind. Listen, we got the tenor of our relationship just right in the airport when I picked you up. The whole Aislinn and Brannoc mutual-loathing society. We’ll just keep it at that, shall we? It suits the legend perfectly.”

  “All right, then,” Emma agreed, going to the crate to pick up her menace of a dog. “Captain and I will be thrilled to come to the dig site with you.”

  “Oh, no,” he started to protest. “Not the dog!” But he knew perfectly well that Emma wasn’t going to leave the terrier locked away all day long. She treated the thing like a goddamn baby.

  “Captain’s been missing you something terrible. I thought he was going to jump out the tower window when he saw you walking to your tent this morning.”

  “I should be so lucky,” Jared grumbled under his breath.

  She snuggled the dog against those incredible breasts. The lucky little bastard. “Look on the bright side, Butler,” she said. “With the two of us together constantly, day and night for the next five weeks, we should be back to wanting to kill each other in no time.”

  He should have found that prospect comforting. But it only cinched the knot of wariness in his chest even tighter.

  Wanting to kill Emma McDaniel would be far preferable to what he wanted to do right now.

  Crush his lips down on that cheeky mouth of hers. Kiss her deeper than he’d ever kissed any woman in his life. His tongue in her mouth, his hands on her breasts, tumbling her back onto the bed where those incredibly long legs would open to invite him in….

  “Jared?”

  “What?” He jerked out of a fantasy he’d been having far too often lately.

  “Are you all right? You look so…”

  Hard as a rock?

  “I look so what?” he challenged, chin jutting out again.

  “Grim.”

  Grim? He felt like he was being burned at the stake, every ounce of his will focused on what he had to do. Endure the flames without recanting everything he truly believed. About himself. About her. Maybe if she wasn’t constantly looking like his fantasy—dressed in clothes Lady Aislinn might have worn—his blood would cool down.

  “I’ll bring up your suitcase,” he said sharply. “I don’t suppose you packed jeans and trainers?”

  “Yes, but…but you said—”

  “You can still wear Lady Aislinn’s garb while we’re riding or training with the sword, but you’d stick out like a sore thumb in those clothes at the dig site. Our goal for the next five weeks is to keep you low-profile. Though God knows how we’re going to manage it.”

  Maybe he could use her as a teaching exhibit for ancient Celtic body art. Paint some nice blue streaks on her face, put lime paste in her hair….

  But damn if he wasn’t aroused just thinking of stroking blue woad on her skin.

  Show a little self-restraint, man. Discipline. Get her in some regular clothes, get her hands dirty and that should help put out the fire. If the woad painting was over the top, maybe he could find a more subtle way of muffling his attraction to her. He could find an excuse to give her one of his old T-shirts. Faded and shapeless enough for her to swim in. If he couldn’t see her body, he wouldn’t want it, would he?

  Aye, and you wouldn’t want to touch the fairy flag if the ghosts here dangled it before your nose, lad, his father’s voice mocked him. The heart is willful and a man’s body more rebellious than any highland clan. Rabbie Burns said love is a red, red rose, but it’s fire far too fierce to control….

  He was on fire inside with wanting…not the Emma McDaniel on the tabloid covers, not the Emma McDaniel in the Jade Star posters Davey and the lads talked about. But rather the Emma whose face had lit up as she ran her fingertips over the centuries-old enamel flower, the Emma who’d been so damn sweet when she’d bandaged his hand. The Emma who would have leapt into a dogfight to save a mutt she’d never seen before.

  But it was this new Emma who scared the living hell out of him. If he lived to be a hundred he knew he’d never forget the vulnerability in her face and the courage as she revealed the most painful secrets of her heart. How her husband had rejected her. How her life had fallen apart. The bravery she’d shown had terrified Jared, made him fear that her ruthless honesty might change everything between them.

  This Emma was dangerous. So real, so warm. So damned human in ways the rest of the world could never know.

  Captain yipped, wriggling to get out of Emma’s arms. The dog was too stupid to live, trying to get away from those gorgeous breasts.

  “If that mongrel of yours is going to be running around the dig site, maybe we should take him to the surgery after all.”

  “For shots?”

  “Aye. And to get him fixed. He’ll be nothing but trouble until we do, trying to get loose, wanting to chase after any female in heat.”

  Captain’s tufted eyebrows lifted as if to say: You’re a fine one to talk, mate. I’m not the one who’s swelling out the fly of his jeans.

  Not for just any female, Jared defended himself silently. Only one in particular.

  One is all it takes. Captain cocked his head to one side. Besides, ruining all my fun is going to solve your problem how?

  Ballocks, Jared thought. He really was losing his mind, having imaginary conversations with a dog. But damn if the beast didn’t have a point.

  Jared glanced from the terrier to Emma,
her dark hair wind-tossed, her mouth so enticing he could almost taste it. No question about it. The next five weeks were going to make the siege of Castle Craigmorrigan seem like Sunday tea at his gran’s house.

  He’d just have to make damn sure at the end of it all the walls that lay in ruins weren’t the ones around his heart.

  Chapter Ten

  HE WAS WATCHING her again. From the moment Emma made the trek from castle to dig site, Jared’s temper had grown sharper, his patience shorter until even Davey Harrison was diving for cover.

  The only person who couldn’t escape the line of fire was Emma, lucky girl. Jared never let her get more than thirty yards away from him. She actually might have enjoyed getting a closer view of the excavation if it weren’t for the fact that Jared bit her head off every time she asked a question, the good-humored tolerance she’d seen him extend to his students obviously not to be wasted on his hostage.

  Hostage? That might be a little overdramatic. The man was doing her a favor, Emma tried to remind herself. And yet she was beginning to think she’d rather take her chances with Feeny.

  Jared glared across the site with wolf eyes, so piercing she felt like a rabbit just waiting for him to pounce. And it isn’t even bedtime yet, a voice in Emma’s head mocked. Awareness set every nerve cell in her body tingling as she tried not to think of Jared Butler’s mouthwateringly sexy body sleeping anywhere within her reach.

  So close she’d hear his every breath, every shift of his long legs against the sheets. That is, if there were any sheets involved at all. When it came to medieval bedtime rituals, she was a little vague. Maybe when Davey got close enough, she could ask him.

  Hey, Davey, what does your boss wear to bed? Is the doc a boxer man or is he into tighty whities? That question would give the students something to talk about besides the World Cup.

  Her imagination ran wild, remembering. Uncle Cade had worn old blue boxer shorts for the nine months she’d lived at his cabin. Her stepfather, Jake, had never recovered after her little sister announced to the entire McDaniel clan over Christmas dinner that Jake saved Mommy laundry ’cause he didn’t wear even a stitch to bed. Poor Jake still hadn’t lived it down.

  Drew had always worn pajama bottoms, “in case there was a fire or something.” But Emma would bet her entire financial portfolio Jared Butler had never even owned a pair of pajamas in his life.

  Jared definitely seemed like an if-there’s-a-fire-the-neighbor-lady-is-going-to-get-one-hell-of-a-show kind of guy. Yeah, Emma chided herself, and wouldn’t you just love to be in the front row when the curtain rises on that scene? The prospect of a naked Jared Butler running amok was enough to induce a woman to consider arson.

  She didn’t even have to close her eyes to picture how magnificent his bare chest had looked as she’d swabbed the tiny wounds Captain had caused in Jared’s sleek, tan skin. Hard planes of muscle, dusted with dark hair that had teased her palm, tempting her to touch longer than she needed to, trace the lines and angles, satin-sheathed steel.

  “This train of thought is positively not helpful,” she scolded herself. “You should be thinking of anything but a giant-sized naked Scot—”

  “Emma?”

  She jumped as if Davey had hit her with a water balloon instead of merely saying her name. Where had he come from? She glanced over to see the other boys ambling toward them from the table where they’d been cleaning the day’s finds.

  She pressed a hand to her thundering heart, a guilty flush burning her cheeks. She could just imagine the teasing mileage those boys would have gotten if they’d overheard her grumbling about naked Scotsmen. Thank God Davey wasn’t a mind reader; he’d be scandalized at the R-rated thoughts she’d been having about his hero. She played her best nonchalant. “Hey, Davey. How’s the work going? Find the fairy flag yet?”

  “The only thing I’d like to find is Dr. Butler’s sense of humor,” Davey complained. “I haven’t seen him in such a rotten mood since the day he found out the site’s funding had been yanked.”

  “Why did they yank it anyway? It seems like you’re still finding artifacts.”

  “Budget cuts. There’s only so much money. And one of Dr. Butler’s colleagues discovered a treasure horde that might rival Sutton Hoo. This terrific burial site that—”

  “I get it. Great news for archaeology. Rotten news for your boss, eh?”

  “That’s pretty much it. Add to that what happened this morning and well…” Davey shrugged. “He wasn’t thrilled about the media showing up.”

  Not to mention the fact that he must be looking forward to the shift in sleeping arrangements as much as I am, Emma almost said. No. Don’t do it, Emma. Don’t mention the fact that the man is surly as a grizzly because he’s going to sleep with you—well, not with you. Just in the same general area.

  A doggy yelp split the air, followed by a string of curses. “Bloody hell, woman, will you keep your dog out from under my feet!” Jared bellowed. But Captain only held up one paw pathetically, and gazed with adoration into Jared’s eyes.

  Emma raced over to snatch the little traitor out of harm’s way. “Right. My dog. That would be my dog who curls up at your feet every time you sit down and trails after you every time you move. My dog who climbed up on your bed when we had to go in your tent.”

  “No doubt for the pleasure of infesting the blankets with fleas,” Jared growled, tossing the trowel he’d been using to the ground. “You’d think he understood me when I mentioned that trip to the surgery and is trying to charm me out of it.”

  He sounded as if the poor stray were the canine version of Machiavelli! Emma’s chin hitched up. “How would you feel if Captain had been plotting to slice off your manly bits, Dr. Mengele?”

  Davey’s eyes almost popped out of his head. “His what?”

  “Jared thinks we should get Captain neutered. I know I’ll have to do it eventually, but after all the trauma he’s been through already this week—talk about inhumane! He was almost chewed up by those horrible collies and that awful Snib man threatened to beat him with a stick! And as if that wasn’t bad enough, he has to wear that gigantic button on his head so he looks ridiculous. Talk about humiliating!”

  “I couldn’t make that dog look any worse if I tried,” Jared defended.

  “Captain would have to disagree with you there.” Emma sniffed. “Males of any species tend to be touchy when somebody talks about slicing off—”

  Jared glared. “It’s a little different, wouldn’t you say? Whether you perform the operation on a man or a dog?” He stomped away, muttering under his breath. Emma strained to hear. “Although with you around the site I might just consider it an act of mercy…”

  Davey’s jaw nearly hit the dirt. “Dr. Butler…what did you say?”

  Jared rounded on the kid, green eyes blazing. “I said—”

  Emma waited, relishing how embarrassed the doc was going to be when he blurted it out. But Butler checked his tongue at the last minute. “Move the mattress from my cot and the rucksack I packed up to Ms. McDaniel’s room.”

  “Your, um…” Davey faltered.

  “That’s right. I’ll be staying up at the castle from now on.”

  A hoot of appreciation echoed from the approaching lads. Sean fired off a low whistle. “Way to go, Professor! Smooth move. Real smooth.”

  Jared turned on the boys. His eyes narrowed. “You have a better idea for keeping the press out of that tower?”

  “Of course not!” Sean splayed his hands, obviously taken aback by the expression on Jared’s face. The other boys looked ready to dive into the castle moat. “I was just joking,” Sean soothed.

  “Well…I…have a better idea.” Davey’s Adam’s apple bobbed in his skinny throat. “I could do it instead of you, Dr. Butler. I mean, sleep with…um, up there.”

  “Great idea, Einstein,” one of the other kids teased. “The lady’s virtue would be safe with you.”

  Jared shot them a glare that sent the soccer mates scrambling
off in the other direction. Only Davey held his ground.

  “And wouldn’t your mother just love that situation?” Jared asked. “Her nineteen-year-old lad alone with the woman he had hung on his dormitory wall. Not to mention the fact that this is still a working dig site. I need my assistant to be alert, on task. Not staying awake all night fantasizing about—”

  “Now, hold on there just a minute!” Davey exclaimed, his face brick-red.

  Jared regretted his harsh words. Emma could see it in his eyes. But the archaeologist crossed his arms over his chest, determined not to back down.

  Davey squared his shoulders with heartbreaking dignity. “At least I wouldn’t be yelling at Emma or blaming her for things that aren’t her fault. Besides, I don’t think of her that way anymore. Emma is my friend. Not just some glossy poster that doesn’t have any feelings.” His voice choked, and for a moment Emma was terrified the kid was fighting back tears. She couldn’t bear the thought of him losing face because of her.

  She crossed to the teenager and handed Captain to him. The terrier licked his neck, but the dog’s eyes were still on Jared. “Don’t let Attila the Scot here bother you,” Emma told Davey. “I’m a lot tougher than I look.”

  Jared looked almost sheepish, and Emma felt her own cheeks sting, knowing he was remembering those all too brief moments in the tower when she’d let her own guard down and told him about Drew. What on God’s earth had she been thinking, confiding something so personal to the man? She must’ve been out of her mind.

  In any case, whatever truce they’d tried to strike up in the tower room was obviously over as far as Jared was concerned. What was it she’d said? We should be back to hating each other in no time?

  She’d meant it as a joke. Her attempt to lighten things up when ghosts grew too real and old pain too fresh. Why did losing the bond that had sprung up so tenuously between them make her sad?

  Sad? No, she told herself sharply. Be mad. Don’t you let this man know he hurt you.

  Emma glimpsed a rainbow of girly T-shirts and bouncing ponytails meandering toward them. Just when she thought things couldn’t get any worse: Veronica and the rest of her flying monkeys.