The Wedding Dress (13 page)

“I suppose,” Veronica said. “But I’d rather expose a little bit of leg than my whole private life. That must be terrible, Emma. You can’t go to a shop without seeing the whole sordid story splashed all over the magazines. Your divorce and all.”

Davey flushed, angry. “Veronica! For God’s sake. That’s none of our business.”

“What?” Veronica’s eyes widened with poisonous innocence. “I’m just trying to let Emma know we’re willing to listen. When my mom got divorced, that’s all she wanted to talk about. What a louse my dad was. How he’d screwed everything in skirts. That’s one good thing, isn’t it, Emma? At least your husband only had an affair with your best friend.”

Emma shrugged. “Drew never actually cheated on me. At least physically. He waited until we’d filed for divorce to make his move. Decent of him, wasn’t it? I gave him a bonus for that when we settled on his alimony.”

“That’s so brave of you. Pretending it’s funny. But the whole world knows your heart must be breaking. You don’t have to pretend here. We all know it’s tragic.”

“Oh, definitely. My life is right up there with Romeo and Juliet on the tragedy meter.” Emma managed to sound bored. “I’ve got no financial worries, no kids to be devastated by the split. I’ve got a supportive family and great friends and a career that lets me travel all over the world. When I compare my life with the challenges most divorced women have to face, I feel real sorry for myself.”

“That’s a great way to look at it,” Davey said earnestly.

It wrenched Jared to see the boy, so fragile, damaged by life, trying to offer comfort.

“Dr. Butler always says it’s the tough stuff in life that makes you strong,” Davey continued. “Like Lady Aislinn. Before the castle siege she was just—”

“Isn’t that just like you, Davey?” Veronica patted the boy’s hand. “Trying to make her feel better with one of Dr. Butler’s maxims when you don’t know anything at all about love.”

“Yeah,” Sean joked. “The only thing Einstein’s taking to bed at night is his teddy bear.”

“That’s very wise of you, Davey,” Emma said, just a hint of wistfulness creeping in. Jared’s senses sharpened. “Real love is worth waiting for.”

“Is that what you had, Emma?” Veronica asked. “With your ex-husband? Real love?”

Irritation fired in Jared, an urge to shut Veronica up. But he hesitated. How could he blame Veronica when he was wondering the same thing himself?

Was real love what Emma McDaniel believed she’d had with the man in that Christmas picture up in the tower room? Or had she found love with one of the dozens of other men who must’ve spent the two years since the divorce trying to get through her bedroom door? Jared’s jaw tightened. For instance, that Jake fellow, whoever he was. The man in the second letter she’d meant to send back to America.

“Veronica,” Beth challenged, a little shyly, “I don’t think you should…”

“I just want Emma to feel comfortable here, safe,” Veronica protested virtuously.

Right. About as safe as Jared’s hand had been clamped between the teeth of Snib’s collies.

“If we’re just open and honest and ask questions straight out, it’ll be far better than whispering and speculating, all of us wondering. Just get it over with, like…like having a root canal. She’ll feel better after she talks about it. Just because she’s famous doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt. I mean, really, Emma. Your husband dumped you for your best friend, didn’t he? In front of the whole world, no less.”

Emma smiled again, a brittle, beautiful smile. Jared wondered if anyone else could see past it to the pain. Before he could second-guess his motives, he shoved himself to his feet.

Chapter Seven

“M
S.
M
C
D
ANIEL
?” Jared cut in on the conversation. Beth sloshed her drink onto her chips, everyone at the table flustered. Even the least sensitive students had been as uncomfortable with Veronica’s line of questioning as he had. Not that they could have stopped her. The other students had learned early not to give her any excuse to aim that incisive sarcasm their way.

Jared leveled his gaze at Emma. “I was wondering if you’d let me take a look at your script?” he asked.

Emma blinked, the pain in her beautiful eyes disappearing. No, Jared realized. Not vanishing. He’d just bought her enough time to hide it away. “My…script?”

Jared picked up his magnifying glass from his table and snapped it back into its leather case. He carefully slipped the metal find into its plastic bag. “Barry Robards said they were going to rewrite the section with that absurd sword duel between Lady Aislinn and Sir Brannoc. I was just wondering if they’d done it.”

“They’ve been editing all along. The latest draft is in my suitcase. I was hoping to run lines while I was here, before you—”

“That’s a grand idea.”

She stared at him as if he’d grown a second head.

“Do you have time to show me the revisions now?” he asked, pocketing the plastic bag.

“But, Jared.” Veronica pouted. “I thought we’d have time to—”

“Dig up something besides artifacts?”

Veronica stiffened at the edge in his voice. Good. He wanted to be damned sure she got the message.

Jared scowled down at her. “Ms. McDaniel’s private life is her own, Veronica. Unless you’re planning to do your doctoral thesis on relationships in present-day Hollywood, I’d suggest you start researching something that pertains to your topic. And one more thing. I’m Dr. Butler to students.”

Veronica flushed. “I was just—”

Jared looked straight into her eyes. “I know exactly what you were doing. Now,” he said, his gaze sweeping the other students at the table. “Any more questions?
I’m
the one you ask.”

“Yes, sir.” Davey all but saluted, his thin face awash with relief. “I mean, no, sir. No more questions.” Jared winced at the glow of hero worship in the boy’s eyes. The rest of the students murmured assent, avoiding Jared’s gaze. That should keep the lid on their curiosity for the time being.

“Davey, could you look after Ms. McDaniel’s dog for a little while?” Jared asked.

“That’s not necessary,” Emma protested. “Really. Captain is still a bit woozy, and his stitches—he’s determined to scratch them.”

“The button will hold,” Jared insisted. “Trust me.”

She regarded him a long moment, her cheeks just a trifle pale, her eyes full of questions.

Trust him? Jared thought. Was he out of his mind asking that of any woman? “The stitches are set in good and tight,” he added. That should clarify what he meant. Trust his skill. His knowledge. Never his heart.

Where the hell had that thought come from?

Davey scooped Captain into his arms. The terrier showed his teeth, more on principle than in threat. Davey scooped a chip from the nearest plate and fed it to the dog.

Obviously the terrier’s affections could be bought. The dog licked Davey’s fingers as Emma looked on, a worried crease between the sweep of her dark brows.

“Don’t worry yourself about this cheeky wee fellow, Emma,” the lad reassured. “I’ll take him for a bit of a walk, then bring him to the tower in an hour or so.”

“Just…be careful. He’s got a talent for plunging headfirst into trouble.”

Jared grimaced. Why should the dog be smarter than a thirty-three-year-old man with a doctorate? Emma McDaniel was nothing
but
trouble. He should be keeping his distance from her, let pressure—even Veronica’s brand—drive her closer to seeing that the role of Lady Aislinn was beyond her talent. Better to drive her away before she had the chance to massacre the part, the one chance the rest of the world would have to learn of the legend.

Jared turned back to Emma. “Your suitcase is stored in one of the chests in the great hall. Do you have time to show me the script right now?”

“I don’t know.” Emma slid from her seat with astonishing grace, considering the voluminous folds of her medieval garb. “You’ll have to ask the ogre in charge of the castle.”

The corner of Jared’s mouth tipped up. “He’s decided to open the dungeon door a crack or two.”

Jared sunk for a moment into melting chocolate eyes framed with lashes so curly it seemed impossible that they were real. He gestured with one hand and Emma fell into step beside him. A dozen pairs of eyes burned into Jared’s back. He made sure he was out of hearing range before he spoke.

“I’m sorry about the girls’ prying. They’re not used to—”

“Some other woman barging in and taking all the attention?”

“Something like that.”

She winked at him, so mischievous he wondered if he’d imagined the fragility, the pain he’d seen in her features minutes before.

“Don’t worry, Butler. I can handle a few lightweights like Veronica and her flying monkeys. I had plenty of practice with Brandi Bates.”

“Who is Brandi Bates? One of the paparazzi?”

“No.” Emma chuckled. “My nemesis from fifth grade to high school graduation. We hated each other on sight. Of course, she was star pitcher on the softball team, head cheerleader, president of the student council and she looked like a cover model for
Seventeen
magazine, so it was no contest who would win when the rest of the class took sides.”

Jared stared, taken aback. He searched for false modesty, but Emma’s face was filled with a wry dismissal that was all too real. Jared cocked his head to one side, regarding her with an appraisal that pinched like a shoe two sizes too small. “Some other girl upstaging you? That doesn’t make any sense. You had to be a stunner when you were in school. You’re one of the most beautiful women in the world.” The compliment felt a whole lot more awkward than insulting her had been.

Emma made a face. “I hate to shatter your illusions, Butler, but I’m pretty sure my publicist pays them to say that. Under the table, of course.”

“Of course.” Why did her refusal to take her beauty seriously make him smile? Damn. It was only the end of their first full day on site and he was actually starting to like the woman.
That
hadn’t been part of his master plan.

Dislike her, make her miserable, get her to run back to Hollywood so the studio has to send me a more talented actress or wait for Angelica Robards to heal,
he reminded himself.

Well, maybe Emma had surprised him with her bravado, her enthusiasm, her compassion. That didn’t mean she was right for the role of Lady Aislinn. He owed it to the Lady of Craigmorrigan to see that her story was told in as worthy a fashion as possible, now that it was being brought to life after so many centuries.

Suddenly the silence jarred Jared, returning his attention to the flesh and blood woman walking beside him. Twilight painted Emma’s face in a rosy glow, her mouth a trifle more sober than it had been moments before. “In high school I was a card-carrying geek,” she said. “I almost got lynched for winning the part of Juliet in the senior play. I graduated early and headed off for drama school. Couldn’t wait to get out of that nest of vipers.”

Jared tried to picture Emma McDaniel as anything but this elegant, polished woman. It was impossible.

She shook back her hair, shrugging off her mood as well. “Speaking of vipers,” she teased, “I’d say the blonde with the forked tongue has the hots for you, Butler.”

Jared glowered. “Veronica is a student—”

“And too full of herself not to realize her obsession with you is hopeless because you’re such a stand-up guy.”

Unexpected warmth spread through Jared’s chest. She’d barely met him, but she sounded so sure he’d never cross that line. “Thank you for that,” he said.

“If you’ve got a girlfriend tucked away somewhere, you might want to flash her around the site a bit to settle Veronica down,” Emma advised.

“There’s no one.”

“Oh.” Did her voice sound a little strange? As if…what? She’d registered the fact he was unattached?
Right, Butler,
Jared thought wryly.
The most beautiful woman in the world is just waiting for the “all clear” before she jumps your body.

Maybe in his dreams.

Emma tipped her head, regarding him for a long moment. Jared was damned glad she couldn’t read his mind. The reel spinning in his head went way past R-rated.

“If flashing a girlfriend in Veronica’s face is out of the question, you’ll need some other tactic,” Emma mused.

Jared’s jaw tightened. She talked as if she had plenty of experience rebuffing prospective lovers. Why did the thought make him as itchy as a nosedive into a nettle patch?

Emma tapped her fingertips lightly against her lips, deep in thought. After a moment she spoke. “At the least, you should make sure somebody is watching your back. If I were you, I’d take a couple of the soccer players along when you visit the camp showers at night. Just as a precaution to protect you from any nasty surprises.”

Had Emma learned to be that wary the hard way? Jared wondered. Dealing with student crushes was one thing. But someone as high-profile as Emma could find herself in real danger, her safety threatened not only by the clamoring of the press but by some deranged stalker. The fact that Jared’s ethics were under siege paled in comparison.

A fierce protectiveness surged through him. He quelled it, exasperated with his own stupidity. She needed him to play guard dog about as much as she needed that ratty terrier of hers! She probably had a mansion in L.A. with thirty-foot walls and a surveillance system to rival Scotland Yard, not to mention a team of bodyguards and security specialists trained to keep celebrities safe. The last thing she needed was an archaeologist running to her rescue.

Jared grimaced.
Put away your lance, Don Quixote. The only dragon is in your imagination. It’s just another windmill to make you look like a complete fool.

Emma’s voice startled him from his thoughts. “Really, Jared. It can’t hurt to be careful.”

“Careful?” He groped for the thread of their conversation. Veronica, he remembered, relieved.

“I can handle myself just fine,” he retorted. “It’s not the first time I’ve had to shut a student down.”

Emma looked him up and down with a cheeky grin. “I’ll bet.”