Wed To A Stranger? Read online

  Table of Contents

  Cover Page

  Excerpt

  Dear Reader

  Title Page

  Dedication

  Cast of Characters

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Epilogue

  Copyright

  “We were together on the night of the murder.”

  Nathan Lafarge’s voice was as slippery as silk. And yet all Fritzi had to do was pretend this stranger was her husband and alibi—and she’d be set free. Then she could try to find her real husband. She’d never stopped believing in him or his love, and she felt him here, closer than ever, in the Alaskan wilds.

  Fritzi took in Nathan’s disheveled raven hair, his weathered face and five o’clock shadow. Then she stared into the courtroom. “That night, I was with my—er—husband.”

  “And I’ll be keeping an eye on her,” Nathan assured.

  Fritzi’s lips parted in protest. “He can’t possibly stay with me.”

  But only Nathan heard. And he leaned close, his breath against her ear making her shiver as he whispered, “You wanna bet, sweetheart?”

  Dear Reader,

  You’ve fold us that stories about hidden identities are some of your favorites, so we’re happy to bring you another such story in our HIDDEN IDENTITY promotion.

  This month, meet Nathan Lafarge in popular romance author Jule McBride’s Intrigue debut. When a woman is accused of murder, Nathan appears from the Alaskan wilds—claiming to be her husband and alibi. But can he protect her without getting too close?

  We’re proud to showcase Jule’s work at Intrigue. In 1993, her first novel received the Romantic Times Reviewer’s Choice Award for Best Series Romance. Ever since, this author has penned heartwarming love stories that have met with strong reviews and made repeated appearances on romance bestseller lists. Says Jule, “Alaska was the perfect setting for Nathan’s story. He’s as mysterious and untamed as the chilling wilderness, but also as warm as a hearth fire inside a cabin at night. I hope readers make him their fantasy man.”

  We hope you enjoy Jule’s Wed to a Stranger?—and all the books coming to you in HIDDEN IDENTITY.

  Regards,

  Debra Matteucci

  Senior Editor & Editorial Coordinator Harlequin Books

  300 East 42nd Street

  New York, NY 10017

  Wed to a Stranger?

  Jule McBride

  For the strongest of the strong silent type and the most mysterious man I know, my brother George—loads and loads of love.

  And to Debra for letting me try new things.

  And Huntley for inspiration.

  CAST OF CHARACTERS

  Fritzi Fitzgerald—A brand-new mother, she searched for her missing husband—only to be accused of his murder.

  Nathan Lafarge—The sexy stranger claimed to be Fritzi’s husband-and alibi.

  David Frayne—He was the key to many murders.and merely to speak his name was dangerous.

  Malcolm—The six-month-old baby posed a mystery in itself.

  Sheriff Joe Tanook—Exactly how involved was the Alaskan native in White Wolf Pass’s first murder?

  Brownie Mulray—The dog musher had witnessed strange goings-on around town. Abby Evans-She seemed to be the most reliable neighbor.

  Sam Giles—A world away, the detective had his own interest in the case.

  The body—Nameless and faceless.it seemed so suitable he’d been found on an ice floe beneath the No Name Bridge.

  Prologue

  Washington, D.C.

  One year ago…

  Fritzi Fitzgerald no longer exists. I’m a different person now…Mrs. David Frayne.

  The morning after her wedding, as she nestled her shoulder-length russet waves against her pillow, that was Fritzi’s first thought. Her second was that she was lucky to have found the man of her dreams. Without opening her eyes or rolling over, she stretched her fingers toward him on the king-size bed where they’d made love all night. The sheet felt cold. David must have rolled to his side.

  “C’mon—” Her hand stilled on the mattress. “Where are you, David Frayne?”

  The name meant “beloved foreigner,” which was strange because no one could be less foreign and more ordinary and safe than David. It was why Fritzi had fallen in love with him. He’d swept into her life when she most needed him, too, just after her parents had been killed and she was at her most vulnerable.

  Where her father had been a D.C. mover and shaker, with a high-profile, diplomatic career that had made both him and her mother targets for a killer six months ago, David was the picture of safety. A lowlevel bureaucrat with medium brown hair and eyes, he’d offered Fritzi sanctuary from her fears. There’d be no more sudden moves to new government posts, or bodyguards hulking over her, or discussions of dangerous politics.

  And no more funerals for people you love.

  Only David’s kisses hinted that danger might still lurk in unexpected places. He was good-looking but in an ordinary way, and yet from the moment their searing lips had first met, another man emerged. Explosively passionate, that man brought Fritzi to the edge of a cliff and dangled her by a thread, claiming her body and soul and making desire gust through her heart like a gale-force wind. She’d lost control. Before David, she never would have considered living with a man before marriage….

  But she’d been so alone. Her parents were gone. And Hannah, who was more like a sister than a best friend, had left after the funeral for a teaching job in Alaska, begging Fritzi to join her as soon as she finished her master’s degree.

  Then magically, after a chance meeting, Fritzi had found David. David, who was so wonderfully kind and attentive. From that first day until they’d said their vows yesterday, her “beloved foreigner” had changed her life forever.

  So would their baby.

  Since finding out about the pregnancy, Fritzi had been riffling through books of names, which was why she knew exactly what David’s meant. Now, as soon as he awakened, she’d surprise him with the news. She’d kept such a long silence; two months had passed before she was sure, then she’d waited these last three weeks, wanting to surprise David today. Countless times, he’d assured her he wanted a baby soon. He was going to be so happy….

  C’mon, David, rise and shine so I can tell you we’re pregnant. Usually, at Fritzi’s first rustlings, David came instantly awake, but last night’s lovemaking must have made him sleep like the dead. Had she really heard his beeper in the night? she suddenly wondered. She had a hazy recollection of him leaving bed to return a call….

  “David?”

  Opening her eyes, Fritzi saw that powdery snow had accumulated on the windowsill and dusted the distant Capitol dome. Flurries danced in the dense, white, early morning sky, assuring her it was the perfect day to stay wrapped in David’s loving arms.

  “David?” This time her voice was less a whisper, more a sleep-creaky entreaty. Giving up, she rolled over. But her new husband wasn’t beside her.

  Glancing toward the closed bathroom door, she raised her voice. “David?”

  Had he gone out? Loving him so much, she was usually better attuned to him. By now, she should have heard something—a rustle as he shifted in his favorite reading chair, the clink of his coffee mug against a coaster.

  Maybe he went on a foraging mission for croissants and the newspaper. Because David sometimes slipped greetings to her in the cla
ssifieds, just thinking of the Post made Fritzi smile. Good. If David got the paper, she could curl up with coffee and read Stan Steinbrenner’s latest juicy investigative column.

  But the silence held a strange quality, and Fritzi’s heart suddenly fluttered in warning. Was something wrong that her mind hadn’t yet registered? The sudden deaths of her parents had left her jittery. So I’m just having another attack of nerves.

  Frowning, Fritzi tossed back the covers, glancing around as she tugged on her gown. The rumpled white bedding attested to a long night of sumptuous loving. The bathroom and closet doors were shut, though she could see into the long, carpeted hallway from here. Above the headboard, a framed print from the Washington Gallery was evenly aligned. Nothing was out of place. So, why did she feel so edgy?

  Slowly exhaling, Fritzi reminded herself that months had passed since her parents were killed. No one was coming after her. Even if they did, David would protect her. But where were the clothes he’d so eagerly discarded last night? She could have sworn he’d folded his slacks over the back of the armchair. Her eyes trailed to the dresser.

  The pictures of her and David were gone!

  Her heart thudded dangerously hard as her feet swung to the floor. At least ten snapshots had been arranged in frames on the dresser top—she and David hugging in front of the White House, kissing on the Capitol steps, eating ice cream in the snow here in Georgetown just last week. She was so used to seeing them that she hadn’t even noticed they were missing. So were the gold monogrammed cuff links David usually kept on the dresser.

  A feeling of dislocation swept over her. Her world was tilting sideways and everything in it—David included—was sliding toward a far corner. Unsteadily, she crossed the room. As she opened the closet and stared inside, she felt as if a trapdoor had just opened beneath her. She was falling and falling….

  Everything was gone—his suits, shoes, ties. His extra belt and the laptop computer he kept on a shelf.

  “David?” Fritzi meant to shout, but her voice was a mere whisper.

  Clutching fistfuls of her nightgown, she whirled around. David’s wallet, glasses and key ring had been removed from the bedside table. The leather briefcase she’d gotten him for Christmas was gone. The book he’d been reading…

  Fritzi ran for the bathroom. Panic made her want to bolt inside, but she froze by the door as it swung inward; only her eyes moved, searching for any sign of her husband.

  “This can’t be happening,” she whispered.

  His robe had vanished. So had his toothbrush and shaving kit. But I know he loves me. And I love him so completely—with every fiber of my being.

  No, he couldn’t have left her—not after the way he’d loved her last night, holding her so tight that she’d known nothing bad could ever happen to her again. Not when they’d just gotten married. David was her one true comfort. He’d lost his parents, just as she had. And he was her husband now, the father of her coming baby, the man who’d become her entire family after her mom and dad were killed.

  Fritzi’s eyes darted wildly around the room. All the ordinary objects—the furniture, the walls, the phone—suddenly seemed as brittle as glass. Just moments ago, she’d felt so safe. How could David have removed everything without waking her? And why?

  Staring at the bed, hysteria rose in her throat. When she saw that David’s pillow had been fluffed, erasing even the soft imprint of his head, a hand seemed to circle her neck, cutting off her breath. It was as if David had never been here, never existed.as if he were a figment of her imagination brought on by the stressful loss of her parents or her own loneliness.

  Am I losing my mind? Fritzi wondered.

  Then she screamed, “David!”

  AT DULLES AIRPORT, a brunette ticket agent smiled from behind the United desk. “And what’s your destination?”

  As far away as I can get. Fighting the urge to look over his shoulder, the man who had once called himself David Frayne leaned against the counter with calculated ease. “When’s your next flight to San Diego?”

  The agent glanced at her monitor. “It’s boarding in twenty minutes.”

  San Diego would be a start. “I’ll take a ticket.”

  “Are you traveling alone?”

  His stomach muscles clenched. “Yes…alone.”

  “Window or aisle?”

  “Aisle.” When the ticket agent chuckled, he realized his response had been too quick.

  “What?” she said. “Are you the kind of guy who likes to make quick escapes?”

  He shot her a disarming grin. “Always.”

  She laughed.

  Not that there was anything funny about it. His work demanded that he always be ready to move. He never acquired possessions of consequence. Not even bank accounts that couldn’t be emptied in an instant. Those were the rules. He’d played by them, too. Wanting nothing…or no one.

  Until now.

  Damn. He’d had no choice but to arrange the supposedly happenstance meeting that had first led him to Fritzi Fitzgerald, but he’d never intended to seduce her—much less marry her. Now he tried not to imagine her expression of betrayal when she woke to find him gone. Surely she’d discover that the building he’d entered after their many shared lunches was really vacant. But would she realize the marriage certificate he’d procured for them was actually false? And that the minister and witness had disappeared? Would she realize “David Frayne” had left nothing behind, not even the slightest trace?

  The ticket agent groaned, bringing him back to the present. “I thought the flight was direct,” she said, “but there’s a layover in Denver.”

  Maybe I’ll just get off there. “A layover’s fine.”

  “Can I have your name?”

  Isn’t one as good as another? He considered using his real name for once. Long forgotten and from a lifetime ago, it would be untraceable. Instead, he said, “Bill. Bill Walker.”

  “Here, Mr. Walker—” The agent slid his ticket across the counter. “It’s gate C-12. Have a nice flight.”

  “Thanks.” As he headed away from the outer doors and toward the gate, he thought, Don’t look back.

  But then he did.

  Turning, he stared straight into the rising sun, its light blinding him while the winter landscape chilled his heart. Three people had been murdered last night—Mo Dorman, Al Woods and Katie Darnell. And now the man who’d once called himself David Frayne had one choice left—to flee, leaving behind the only woman he’d ever loved.

  THE MEDICAL EXAMINER glanced up from the dead woman’s body. “Her name was Katie Darnell. Recognize the MO?”

  Detective Sam Giles shook his head and crouched next to the victim. “Not yet, Larry.” But if the killer was a repeater, Sam would. In Sam’s four years in D.C., he’d solved every murder he’d been assigned. Not that he’d grown accustomed to crime scenes. From his first days on the job, back in Milwaukee, his stomach had churned when he saw this kind of savagery.

  “Anybody check for latents on the skin?” he asked.

  “Yeah, but there’s hardly a print in the room. Most belong to the victim.”

  Sam shook his head again. “She was pretty.” Short, straight blond hair, a sweet face. She was lying on her back with her knees bent. He figured she’d fallen while running, then pitched forward and rolled.

  “The phone was in her hand when she was found, Sam.”

  “Probably trying to call for help. Did somebody hit redial?”

  “Yeah.” Larry nodded. “But the number she called was disconnected. I figure the perp left her for dead, then she tried to make the call.”

  Sam sighed. The phone company would have a record of the disconnected number. But the young woman had been dying when she’d made the call, so it was a probable misdial.

  “Whoever did this knew what he was doing,” Larry said.

  Sam grunted softly in agreement. There wasn’t much of a cut, not even much blood. A long, curved stiletto-style blade had pierced through the lab coat
she’d been wearing. Sam walked methodically through the room, his eyes scanning stainless steel tables, racks of test tubes, labeled jars of cotton swabs and numbered glass slides.

  “Two government boys did a quick sweep before they let me in,” Larry said, lowering his voice. “Did you see them?”

  “Nope.” Sam shook his head. “How long were they here?”

  “Five minutes, tops. Got the impression they didn’t want to be seen.”

  “Then, they probably missed something.”

  Larry shrugged. “They seemed pretty thorough.”

  As Sam dropped to his knees and shone his penlight beneath a bank of polished stainless steel drawers, he glimpsed his own reflection—a light-skinned black man, young-looking for a career detective and father of two.

  After ten very silent minutes, he used the penlight to sweep an object from beneath a cabinet and into an evidence bag.

  “Find something?” Larry asked.

  “A monogrammed cuff link.initials D.F.” It was gold and of square design, probably a man’s. “The government boys missed it.”

  “Well, it’s not hers—” Larry nodded at the body. “Like I said, her name’s Katie Darnell, according to her wallet ID. You think her killer left it?”

  Sam shrugged and kept searching. Ten minutes later, he held up another object—a standard, everyday scalpel. But it wasn’t really standard, Sam thought. Traces of blood were on the blade. Glancing between the scalpel and cuff link, Sam said, “Larry, isn’t this supposed to be a county water-testing facility?”

  “I think it’s privately owned, but the county uses it. Why?”

  “What’s a surgical instrument doing here?”

  Larry shrugged. “You’re the hotshot detective.”