THE UNSUITABLE BRIDE

CHAPTER THREE

Roseanne swallowed past the burning ache in her throat, the unknowing cruelty in Lisa's words like a dagger through her middle, the accusation in them tearing at her heart. Roseanne angled her face away, unable to say why this woman's judgement, in particular, had the ability to get under her skin. After all, Roseanne'd made a habit of dressing in skimpy clothes when she went to high profile nightspots, all so her father would be embarrassed by her, all so she could provoke him to reacting.

"Don't delay," Lisa said, turning her back and moving to the bag she'd brought with them, unclipping it while she was crouched down. "The light is already fading."

Roseanne's heart was in her throat. Roseanne put a finger to her side, trying to work out if she was actually badly injured enough to require Lisa's attention, and yelped at the immediate burst of pain. Roseanne pressed her finger more tentatively and felt something hard. Glass? Just as Lisa'd said?

Roseanne's fingers moved to the gown and, as she lifted it over her head, she was aware of how flimsy and damaged it was. It wasn't as though it was providing much more protection for her than without. Roseanne winced as she held her arms up, the stretchy feeling down her sides painful and uncomfortable.

Lisa's dark head angled towards Roseanne slightly, but Lisa's gaze was reassuringly disinterested. When she straightened, Roseanne saw that Lisa had a pair of tweezers, a bottle of anaesthetic and some cotton wool.

"Just something you carry around with you?" Roseanne said in surprise.

"The helicopter's med kit is well prepared." Lisa stood right in front of her. "This is going to hurt."

Roseanne laughed, despite herself, a shaky sound that threatened to dissolve into tears any moment.

"Just – get it over with. Please."

Lisa's touch was deft yet surprisingly gentle as she ran a fingertip over Roseanne's hip to detect even the most minute shard of glass before bringing the tweezers to bear, Lisa's face a study in concentration as she worked. Self-conscious in only a simple white bra and underpants, Roseanne found it hard to focus on anything besides what they were doing. Roseanne was intimately aware of Lisa's every single movement, her breath, her touch, the feeling of Lisa's fingers as they glided over her skin, the sensation of Lisa's proximity, the warmth of her exhalations against Roseanne's flesh. A thousand bolts of lightning flew through Roseanne's blood, her own breathing was heavy and fast, her awareness of Lisa on a purely biological level making it difficult to concentrate.

It was the strangeness of the situation, that was all. The rush of adrenalin, the fear, the uncertainty and now the relief at having arrived in a safe haven. That explained why Roseanne's pulse was going crazy and her mouth was drier than the desert beyond these walls. Lisa's hands moved upwards, to the flesh just beneath Roseanne's bra. Roseanne stilled, holding even her breath, for fear of – what? She couldn't say, but she rather suspected it might be fear that Lisa might not keep going, when out of nowhere Roseanne desperately wanted Lisa to touch her whole body, not just the broken parts.

"A thousand tiny pieces," Lisa said with a shake of her head, her eyes lifting to Roseanne's. There was a rueful expression on Lisa's face but heat still seared to her core. Roseanne bit down on her lip and looked away, her pulse visible through the fine skin at the base of her throat.

"I had no idea," Roseanne managed to say, a gruff admission. Roseanne cleared her throat but it didn't help.

"Shock will do that to a person," Lisa said quietly, drawing Roseanne's gaze to her own face.

"You weren't shocked."

"Wasn't I?"

"You didn't act it."