The Wedding Dress (16 page)

A cacophony of disgruntled voices echoed up to her, the journalists grousing in disappointment as their prey vanished. She sucked in a shuddery breath of relief one heartbeat too soon. Heard footsteps approaching.

She groped for composure, struggling to paste a blank expression onto her face. But it was too late. Feeny charged into the room, scenting blood.

Captain’s lip curled, threatening Feeny with those doggy vampire teeth. Love welled up in Emma for the scrappy little dog.

“You’re not allowed up here,” she said, confining Captain in his wooden box. “The castle is private property.”

Feeny smirked as the terrier tried to dig its way through the wood. “Try again, sweetheart. Castle Craigmorrigan is part of the National Trust. It’s open to the public.”

“Parts of it might be. But the door to this tower has a sign saying no admittance.”

Feeny shrugged, pacing toward her. “Funny, but I didn’t see a damn thing.”

“Then I’d advise getting your eyes checked, because—”

More footsteps hammered up the stairs. Emma’s stomach plunged. Oh, God. Were the rest of the reporters following Feeny’s lead? All she’d managed to do by fleeing to the tower was trap herself with Feeny and whoever else was stalking her.

Captain scratched frantically at the edge of his box as broad shoulders filled the doorway—a man, all sinews and shadows.

Jared.
Emma’s heart leapt as he charged into the room, his chest heaving beneath his faded blue Celtic shirt, his hair windblown. He must have sprinted all the way from the dig site to the castle. “Emma,” he demanded, breathless. “Are you okay?”

It was all Emma could do not to close the space between them, put Jared’s big body between her and the journalist. Good Lord, when had she turned into such a coward?

“I’m fine,” Emma said.
At least I am now.

Green eyes slashed from Emma to Feeny. “Davey said he’d seen some men following you into the castle.” Jared frowned. What were those questions clouding his brow? He couldn’t possibly think she’d
invited
Feeny and the rest of the harpies to ambush her, could he? “You didn’t mention any press engagements this morning.”

This morning…
Emma winced in dismay. Perfectly innocent words a reporter could have a field day with.

In spite of herself, her voice wobbled a little. “This gentleman was about to leave.”

But Feeny had used the time Jared was focused on Emma to gain the advantage, insinuating himself deeper into the room—a strategy Emma knew would make it harder for Jared to evict him. “Hey, Emma, is this the guy you were telling me about?” Feeny probed.

Jared rounded on him, glaring. “Who the hell are you?”

“Joel Feeny,
Independent Star.
And you are?”

“That’s none of your business!” Emma started to protest, but Jared cut in.

“I’m Dr. Jared Butler. I’m the site director here.”

“Well, what do you know?” Feeny’s eyes glittered in triumph as he snapped off a camera shot. “If it isn’t the prince himself.”

“Prince?” Jared snarled, glancing back at Emma. “What the hell is this about?”

Feeny’s busy gaze snagged on the purple glitter frame perched on the table. He picked it up with sausage-like fingers, his eyes raking the picture with rapacious curiosity.

Emma lunged toward him, but Jared was quicker.

He grabbed the frame out of the reporter’s hand, thumping the picture facedown on the table, then turned to collar the man. But with skills honed in countless journalism-by-ambush ventures, Feeny dodged Jared and thrust the whirring tape recorder at Emma. “Hey, Emma, nice family you’ve got there. We never hear anything about your daddy, though. What’s the story?”

Emma pressed her hand against her stomach, feeling like she was going to throw up. “There is no story.”

“Ballocks!” Feeny gloated as Jared grabbed him by the arm and hauled him toward the door. “I know damned well there’s a front page byline in here somewhere! It may be a story about your daddy or it could be Butler, here. You and the doc having a fling, Emma?”

Emma groped for scorn, her scathing ice queen tone. “Give me a little credit for taste! I don’t even like him!”

Jared’s green eyes locked with hers for a moment, turbulent with emotions too fierce, too plain. Surprise? Surely not hurt?

She could explain to him later, Emma assured herself, bile rising in her throat.
Explain what?
a voice mocked her. How the tabloid reporter would be frothing to cast Butler as her latest lover?
That
would confirm every reservation Jared had had about opening his precious castle to the media, prostituting the legend he’d spent his lifetime studying.

Don’t let them see, Jared,
Emma thought helplessly as the two men disappeared into the shadows.
Don’t let Feeny know my words cut you.

But who was she to be handing out advice? She’d given Feeny plenty to write about in the past few minutes, plenty of dirt to try to dig up. She might as well have pointed Captain in the direction of a T-bone steak.

There’s nothing for Feeny to find,
Emma reassured herself firmly.
Jared isn’t my lover. And as for my father, the only people who know the truth would never tell.

But since when did the truth have anything to do with tabloid headlines?

Emma flinched, her memory filling with the ominous smack as Drew slammed the latest rag sheet onto their kitchen counter, the headlines blaring—Emma McDaniel: “I don’t want your baby!” Husband shattered, sobbing.

For God’s sake, Emma!
Drew’s voice echoed in her head.
I didn’t sign on for this. Who in their right mind would?

She crossed to the table in the alcove and picked up the purple frame, carefully smoothing her fingers over the glitter as if to brush away any trace of Feeny’s intrusive hand. She gazed down at the family she loved, their faces frozen in time. Forever happy, their demons laid to rest. So sure they were safe at last.

But the world could change in an instant, secrets spilling out that could never be reclaimed and buried once more like the wedding dress tucked deep in its trunk in the attic.

Emma’s throat tightened as she caressed her mother’s face, sheltered beneath the glitter-speckled glass. Deirdre McDaniel Stone, so strong now, beautiful and fierce with a love Emma tried to believe no blow could ever shatter.

Again.

How can you be sure?
a child voice whispered inside Emma’s head.
She fell apart when you were ten. And at sixteen when you made her tell you about
him…
What if the reporters find out because of you? It would be your fault….

Emma’s eyes burned. “No,” she told herself sharply. “I won’t let that happen. I’ll never let that happen. She’s safe.”

Safe?
Drew’s anguished cry pierced her memory as he flattened his palm on the latest story.
Don’t you get it, Emma? As long as anyone’s name is linked with you, their life will never be their own. It’ll be open season on any secret, any flaw….

But even Drew hadn’t told her the most painful truth of all.

Maybe Emma McDaniel’s husband could divorce her, marry another woman and remove himself from the public eye.

Emma’s mother never could.

J
ARED FOUGHT THE URGE
to ram Joel Feeny’s head into the stone wall as he dragged the reporter down the tower stairs. It wasn’t as if the fool was using his brains anyway. Even Emma’s eejit of a dog would have had the sense to get the hell out of Jared’s reach before the last tiny threads holding his temper in check blew the roof off the whole damned castle. But Feeny was trying every trick he could think of to feed Jared’s fury.

“Listen, Doc,” Feeny pressed, using his body weight to slow Jared down. “I know you’ve got a prime deal going on here doing the horizontal bop with a lady any man in the world would like to be screwing. But the hard truth is she’ll be dumping you out of her bed before your car needs its next oil change.”

Emma’s sneer flashed in Jared’s head, her scornful words raking him.
Give me a little credit for good taste…I don’t even like him….

Why did those words sear his pride so badly?

“I’m not
in
her goddamned bed,” Jared snarled, giving Feeny a brutal yank. “Don’t you understand English?”

“Actually, as a rule, you Scots garble it up so badly, you make it damned hard. But I hear you, mate. Loud and clear.”

Feeny staged a stumble against the wall, the rough stone rasping the skin off Jared’s knuckles. Jared swore.

Feeny sagged toward the nearest step. “I’m trying to help you, mate!” he insisted, resisting.

“Sure you are,” Jared snarled.

“I can be your bloody fairy godmother if you let me. Do you have any idea how much money you can make? You can cash in on these rolls in the hay for hundreds of thousands of dollars if you play it right.”

Jared cocked his fist back, imagining how damn good it would feel to break a few of Feeny’s teeth. “You filthy son of a—”

“You really want to be front-page news, Butler? Hit me,” Feeny warned, survival instinct finally kicking in.

Damn Feeny. The slimy worm was right. Jared forced his fist back to his side. The reporter scrambled to his feet, starting down the stairs under his own steam. “Right then, mate. I’m leaving. Just think about what I said. Someone is going to make plenty of quid selling news about Emma McDaniel’s love life. It can be you or the next lucky bastard she hops into bed with.”

“Go to hell,” Jared growled.

Feeny groped in his suit pocket as Jared herded him to the door. “Here’s my card,” he said, shoving it at Jared. “Ring me up. Night or day.”

Jared crumpled the rectangle of paper in his fist and hurled it to the ground. “Stay away from my dig,” he warned. “Or next time—”

“You think it’ll be clear sailing for the goddess up there if you scare me off, Butler?” Feeny jeered. “I just got lucky enough to draw first blood. If it’s not me, it’ll be some other reporter hammering at her in hopes she’ll break down and spill something that’ll make us a fortune.”

“What kind of a parasite are you? Hounding a woman like this?”

“Act all high and mighty if you want, but don’t kid yourself, Doc. Reporters like me made Emma McDaniel famous. She knows that, no matter how much she recoils from us now. She owes us.”

Jared’s fist lashed out, but someone caught his arm, giving Feeny time to dodge out of the way. Jared wheeled, expecting to see Emma.

Instead, Veronica’s face swam into focus. “Don’t!” the student cried, holding on for dear life. “Are you crazy?”

Jared yanked himself free, his chest heaving, his jaw clenched. “Go get some of the lads. I need them to get this piece of garbage off the property. Now.”

“I’m going. I’m going!” Feeny backed away, hands up, his tape recorder still whirring in one, camera swinging from its strap around his neck. “Just remember what I told you, Doc. You can ring me up any time. All three numbers are on my card. Office, mobile and home.”

Jared ground the card under his boot sole. “I’ll see you in hell before I’d ever call scum like you.”

“I’ve heard that before,” Feeny said. “We’ll see what happens once the sex burns out and Emma McDaniel throws you in the shite heap.”

“S…Sex?” Veronica echoed faintly, turning even whiter as her gaze flashed to Jared.

He couldn’t stop himself from taking a menacing step toward Feeny. But Veronica dove between them.

“Please,” she begged. “Mr….Mr….”

“Feeny. Joel Feeny,
Independent Star,
” the reporter supplied.

“If you’d just follow me.” Veronica stared at Jared as if he’d gone insane. Maybe he had.

“Uh, Dr. Butler,” she said, glancing over her shoulder. “After I escort this gentleman to his car, we need to talk right away. There’s a…problem at the site.”

“It’ll have to wait,” Jared snarled. He turned and stalked back through the castle door.

Chapter Nine

J
ARED STRODE UP
the stairs, his knuckles burning, his temper boiling, feeling more shell-shocked than he would have believed possible. The most disturbing thing in the whole nightmarish encounter was the fact that some of what Feeny had said was true. The press and celebrities did feed off each other. And even if Jared ever was lunatic enough to give in to what his body clamored to do every time he thought of Emma McDaniel’s lush curves, Feeny was right. She’d dump a man like him quicker than last month’s garbage.

Not that she wanted anything to do with him anyway. She’d made that plenty clear. So why the hell had it hurt? Yes, damn it—hurt. But more than his pride. Something far deeper, in the place where her fleeting kiss had buried itself.

Anger and confusion roiled inside him, mingled with a fierce protectiveness that scared the hell out of him. One more joke. He sneered at his own stupidity. As if the lady needed him to jump between her and this particular dragon. She’d been handling scenes like this one for six years without him. What if Feeny was right about that whole
the lady doth protest too much
attitude and Emma was actually using this encounter for her own benefit somehow?

No. Emma
had
been genuinely shaken, Jared told himself. He wanted to believe that and yet…wasn’t it possible he had just imagined that hunted light in her eyes because that’s what he’d needed to see?

Jared stalked into the tower room, expecting the ice queen. His heart tripped as his gaze locked on the figure huddled on the bench by the seaward window, her knees curled up like a child’s, her face haunted as she peered down at the glitter frame in her hands. So lost, so alone she didn’t even know he was there.

“Emma?” Jared’s voice, almost tender, sounded strange to his own ears.

Her head jerked up. Before she turned toward him, she scrubbed one hand across her cheeks.

“I got some…some glitter in my eye,” she said. He cleared his throat, wishing he were the kind of man who could close the space between them, comfort her.