The Bride Wore A Forty-Four by MAGGIE SHAYNE Read Free Book Online Page B

head
injury."
    He licked his lips, said nothing, but she
read his face, even though he kept it carefully focused on the
road.
    "Are you saying my memory loss doesn't have a
physical cause?"
    His deep sigh filled the car. "None they
could find. The docs said you'd get things back a little at a time.
And that would be the best way for you—remembering all of it at
once could be...bad."
    "Bad how?"
    He shrugged.
    She sighed, angry and impatient. "I have been
getting things back. Little things."
    "Yeah?" He faced her, and his eyes were
alight with interest and something else. Something that looked like
hope. "What have you remembered?"
    She closed her eyes, and the images rolled
through her mind again. She saw herself in his arms, saw him
kissing her, laughing with her, making love to her.
    "Kira?"
    "Nothing I'm ready to talk about." she
said.
    "Okay. That's okay." He reached across the
seat to put his hand over hers.
    She opened her eyes and looked at it there,
felt her throat tighten and her eyes burn, and didn't know why.
God, she was so confused. "Where are we going?" she asked, to
change the subject. "This isn't the way back to my house."
    "We can't go back to your mother's place." He
didn't call it her place, she noted, and wondered if she should
read anything into that. "They'll be looking for us. We need a safe
place where we can hole up, regroup, and phone our—my contact."
    She nodded slowly. "How far?"
    "Twenty minutes. Why?"
    She shrugged. "You won't tell me who I am,"
she said softly. "So how about you use the time to tell me who you
are, Marshall?"
    He looked at her sharply.
    She blinked and knew something without even
trying. "That's not even your real name, is it?"
    He shot her a startled look. "No. Do you
remember what it is?'
    She shook her head.
    "Try," he said.
    She closed her eyes, and again saw those
images she'd seen before. Him, wrapping her in his arms, holding
her, kissing her...her own voice whispering his name.
    "Michael," she whispered.
    And the image went on, spinning its web
through her mind, playing out like a clip from a movie she hadn't
yet seen. The kiss ended, and he backed away just a little, and she
looked at him in his tux, and then down at herself. She saw white
flowing all around her, pooling at her feet, and she heard a man's
voice, not Michael's, but some other man, who stood there with
them, saying, "Ladies and gentleman, it is my honor to present for
the first time, Mr. and Mrs. Michael Waters."
    Her eyes flew open. She stared at him,
stunned.
    "What? What's wrong?" he asked.
    Kira could only blink. Then she moved her
gaze lower, to his hands on the steering wheel, seeking out the
left one. There was a gold band on his third finger. She clapped a
hand to her mouth, then belatedly, thought to look to her own third
finger. But she already knew there was no ring there.
    "Kira, for God's sake, what's the
matter?"
    She swallowed hard. "You...you're
my...husband."
    He hit the brakes so hard she automatically
braced her hands on the dashboard to keep from hitting the
windshield, even though she was wearing a seat belt—had put it on
thirty seconds into this mad drive.
    She was vaguely aware of the car veering onto
the shoulder, sending up a cloud of dust all around them. And then
he was turning toward her, reaching for her, his face so incredibly
filled with emotion she could barely believe it. He quickly
released her seat belt and pulled her into his arms, his hands
burying themselves in her hair as he held her so tightly she could
barely breathe. His mouth moved over her neck, and then her jaw,
and finally covered her lips. He kissed her with more passion than
she would have guessed one man could possess. She went dizzy under
the assault, and her body reacted without her mind's permission or
concern. She kissed him back. She opened her lips to his questing
tongue and twisted her arms around his waist and held on as if she
would never let him go.
    When he finally lifted his head, he