A Bride for the Runaway Groom
Scarlet Wilson
Millionaire to say 'I do' – at last!PR whizz Rose Huntingdon-Cross is drowning under work, but when asked to organize a celebrity wedding party, she can’t say no! She enlists millionaire Will Carter to help – after four almost-weddings, he’s got plenty of experience!Working alongside this gorgeous-but-engimatic bachelor, Rose can’t help wondering just why he’s still single! And as a heart-stopping bond develops between them, dare Rose hope that she can persuade Will that this is a once-in-a-lifetime love – one that will finally have him saying ‘I do’!
Summer Weddings (#uaaf1e6b2-70ab-5123-8191-3129f80e3e07)
A season of confetti and whirlwind romances!
You are cordially invited to attend the Huntingdon-Cross summer weddings.
Celebrate the shotgun marriage of Daisy Huntingdon-Cross and Sebastian Beresford in
Expecting the Earl’s Baby by Jessica Gilmore
Save the date: on sale March 2015
Raise a glass to Rose Huntingdon-Cross and Will Carter as they finally tie the knot in
A Bride for the Runaway Groom by Scarlet Wilson
Save the date: on sale April 2015
Join us in celebrating Violet Huntingdon-Cross and Tom Buckley’s star-studded wedding day in
Falling for the Bridesmaid by Sophie Pembroke
Save the date: on sale May 2015
A Bride for the Runaway Groom
Scarlet Wilson
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
SCARLET WILSON writes romances and medical romances for Mills & Boon. She lives on the west coast of Scotland with her fiancé and their two sons. She loves to hear from readers and can be reached via her website, scarletwilson.com (http://scarletwilson.com).
For two gorgeous brides who are now two fabulous mummies, Carissa Hyndman and Hayley Dickson.
And to my fellow authors Jessica Gilmore and Sophie Pembroke for making this such fun!
Contents
Cover (#u05c90800-2614-5110-8dba-5d5022053f67)
Summer Weddings
Title Page (#u34796c7a-07df-59b4-bf85-310271450f93)
About the Author (#u8bc5cca5-c7e3-5e50-b6fc-ab57d0469138)
Dedication (#ue61f5929-9f96-5960-8ad4-8736bca24306)
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ONE (#uaaf1e6b2-70ab-5123-8191-3129f80e3e07)
SOMETHING WASN’T RIGHT.
No, scratch that. Something was very, very wrong.
Everything should be perfect. Her sister’s wedding yesterday had been beautiful. A picture-perfect day with a bride and groom that truly loved each other. It was a joy to be a part of a day like that.
But, by midnight, the days of jet lag that she’d been ignoring had finally caught up with her and she’d staggered to bed and collapsed in a heap, catching up on some much-needed sleep.
Her new brother-in-law, Seb, had a house to die for. Hawksley Castle, a home part Norman, part Tudor and part Georgian. The room she was in was sumptuous and spacious with the most comfortable bed in the world.
At least it would be—if she were in that bed alone.
She could hear breathing, heavy breathing, sometimes accompanied with a tiny noise resembling a snore.
Right now, she was afraid to move.
She hadn’t drunk much at all yesterday—only two glasses of wine. Because of the jet lag they’d hit hard. But not so hard she’d invited someone into her bed.
She’d attended her sister’s wedding alone. No plus-one for Rose.
There had been no flirtations, no alluring glances and no invitations back to her room. And this definitely was her room. She opened her eyes just a little to check.
Yes, there was her bright blue suitcase in the corner of the room. Thank goodness. She hadn’t been so tired that she’d stumbled into the wrong room. Seb’s house was so big it might have happened.
But it hadn’t.
So, who was heavy breathing in her bed?
She didn’t want to move. Didn’t want to alert the intruder to the fact that she was awake. She could feel the dip in the bed at her back. Turning around and coming face-to-face with a perfect stranger wasn’t in her plans.
She needed to think about this carefully.
She edged her leg towards the side of the bed. Stealth mode. Then, cringed. No satin negligee. No pyjamas. Just the underwear she’d had on under her bridesmaid dress that was lying in a crumpled heap at the bottom of the bed. Brilliant. Just brilliant.
Her painted toenails mocked her. As did her obligatory fake tan. Vulnerable. That was how she felt. And Rose Huntingdon-Cross didn’t take kindly to anyone who made her feel like that.
Just then the stranger moved. A hand slid over her skin around her hip and settled on her stomach. She stifled a yelp as her breath caught in her throat. Something resembling a comfortable moan came from behind her as the stranger decided to cuddle in closer. The sensation of an unidentified warm body next to hers was more than she could take.
She slid her legs and body as silently as possible out of the bed. The only thing close to hand that could resemble a weapon was a large pink vase. Her heart was thudding against her chest. How dared someone creep into bed with her and grope her?
She held her breath as her feet came into contact with the soft carpet and she automatically grasped the vase in both hands.
She spun around to face the intruder. In other circumstances, this would be comical. But, right now, it felt anything but comical. She was practically naked and a strange man had crept into bed beside her. How dared he?
Who on earth was he? She didn’t recognise him at all. But the wedding of an earl and a celebrity couple’s daughter was full of people she couldn’t even take a guess at. Undoubtedly he was some hanger-on.
If her rational head were in place she would grab her clothes and run from the room, getting someone to come and help with the intruder.
But Rose hated being thought of as a shrinking violet. For once, she wanted to sort things for herself.
She padded around to the other side of the bed in her bare feet, hoisting the vase above her head just as the stranger gave a little contented moan.
It was all she needed to give her a burst of unforgiving adrenaline. The initial fear rapidly turned to anger and she brought the vase down without a second thought. ‘Who do you think you are? What are you doing in my bed? How dare you touch me?’ she screamed.
The vase shattered into a million pieces. The guy’s eyes shot open and in one movement he was on his feet—fists raised and swaying.
He blinked for a few seconds—big, bright blue eyes with a darker rim that didn’t look the least bit predatory, but a whole lot shell-shocked—then dropped his fists and clutched his head.
‘Violet, what on earth are you doing? Are you crazy?’ He groaned and swayed again, one of his hands reaching out to grab the wall—leaving a bloodstained mark on the expensive wallpaper.
She couldn’t breathe. Her heart was thudding against her chest and her stomach was doing crazy flip-flops. ‘What do you mean, Violet? I’m not Violet.’
This just wasn’t possible. Okay, Violet was her identical twin. They didn’t usually look so similar, but a few years stateside and not seeing each other on a daily basis meant she’d shown up with an identical hairstyle to her sister.
This clown actually thought he was in bed with her sister? What kind of a fool did that?
He was still shaking his head. It was almost as if his vision hadn’t quite come into focus. ‘But of course you’re Violet,’ he said.
‘No. I’m not. And stop dripping blood on the carpet!’
They both stared down at the probably priceless carpet that had two large blood drips, and the remnants of the vase at his feet and across the bed.
He grabbed his shirt from the chair next to the bed and pressed it to his head. It was the first time she’d even noticed his clothes—discarded in the same manner as her yellow and white bridesmaid dress.
His eyes seemed to come into focus and he stepped forward, reaching one hand out to her shoulder. He squinted. ‘Darn it. You’re not Violet, are you? You haven’t got her mole on your shoulder.’
His finger came into contact with her skin and she jumped back. One part of her knew that this ‘intruder’ wasn’t any danger to her. But another part of her was still mad about being mistaken for her twin and being felt up by her twin’s boyfriend. How on earth could this be explained? This guy was obviously another one of Violet’s losers.
Violet burst through the door. ‘What’s going on? Rose, are you okay?’ Her eyes darted from one to the other. The guy, in his wrinkled boxer shorts and shirt pressed to his forehead, and Rose, in her bridesmaid underwear. The broken vase seemed to completely pass her by.
She wrinkled her nose in disgust and shook her head. ‘Will? My sister? Oh, tell me you didn’t?’
They didn’t sound like words of jealousy—just words of pure exasperation.
She threw her hands in the air and spun around, muttering under her breath. ‘Runaway groom my sister and I’ll kill you.’
Rose was feeling decidedly exposed. The only thing she could find to hold in front of herself was her crumpled bridesmaid dress.
Whoever he was, he obviously wasn’t Violet’s boyfriend—not with that kind of reaction. But did that make things better or worse? She’d still been groped by an absolute stranger.
He wobbled again and sagged down into the chair strewn with his clothes, arching one eyebrow at her. ‘So, crazy twin. Do you assault every man you meet?’
‘Only every man who climbs into my bed uninvited and cops a feel!’
‘Well, lucky them.’ He sounded oh, so unimpressed. Then he frowned. ‘Did I touch you? I’m sorry. I was sleeping. I didn’t even realise I’d done that.’
The blood was starting to soak through his shirt. She cringed. Maybe the vase had been a bit over the top. And at least she’d got some kind of apology.
She stepped forward and took the shirt from his hand. ‘Here, let me.’ She pressed down firmly on his forehead.
‘Youch! Take it easy.’
She shook her head. ‘The forehead’s a very vascular area. It bleeds easily and needs a bit of pressure to get the bleeding to stop.’
‘How on earth would you know that?’
‘Friends with children who seem to bang their foreheads against every piece of furniture I own.’
He gave her half a smile. It was the first time she really noticed how handsome he was. There were no flabby abs here. Just a whole load of nicely defined muscles. With those killer blue eyes and thick dark hair he was probably quite a hit with the ladies.
A prickle flooded over her skin. In the cold light of day this guy seemed vaguely familiar.
‘How do you know Violet?’ she asked.
He winced as she pressed a little harder. ‘She’s my best friend.’
Rose sucked in a deep breath. Things were starting to fall into place for her. Because she’d been working in New York she hadn’t met Violet’s best friend for the last few years. But she had heard a lot about him.
She pulled her hand back from his forehead. Now she understood what Violet had said. ‘You’re the Runaway Groom?’ She was so shocked she dropped her dress.
A single dark red drop of blood snaked down his forehead as he looked at her in disgust.
‘I hate that nickname.’
The Runaway Groom. No wonder he looked vaguely familiar. He’d been on the front page of just about every newspaper in the world. Self-made millionaire Will Carter had been famously engaged three—or was it four?—times. He’d even made it down the aisle once before turning on his heel and bolting.
The press should hate him. But they didn’t. They loved him and ate it up every time he fell in love and got engaged again. Because Will was handsome. Will was charming. And Will was sitting semi-naked in front of her.
She was trying so hard not to look at the abs and the scattering of dark hair that seemed to lead the eye in one direction.
She gave herself a mental shake just as a heavy drop of blood slid past his eye and down the side of his face. She leaned over to catch it with the shirt, just as he lifted his hand to try and brush it away.
The contact of their skin sent a tingle straight up her arm, making her heart rate do a strange pitter-patter. All the little hairs on her arms stood on end and she automatically sucked in her stomach.
‘Look, I’m sorry about your head. But I woke up and there was a strange man in bed with me—then you touched me and I was frightened.’ And she hated saying those words out loud but since she’d caused bodily harm to her sister’s best friend it seemed warranted. She raised her eyebrows. ‘You’re lucky it was only a vase.’
His gaze was still on her. ‘So you’re Rose?’ It wasn’t really a question—more an observation and it was obvious from his expression that a million thoughts were currently spinning through his brain. What on earth had Violet told him about her?
He looked at the fragments beneath his feet and gave a half-smile. A cute little dimple appeared in one cheek. ‘Oh, you’re definitely not going to be Seb’s favourite sister-in-law. At a rough guess that’s over two hundred years old.’
A sick feeling passed over her. Defence was her automatic position. ‘Who puts a two-hundred-year-old vase in a guest bedroom? He must be out of his mind.’
He shrugged. ‘Your sister obviously doesn’t think so. She just married him.’
Daisy, Rose’s youngest sister, was still floating happily along on cloud two hundred and nine. And Seb seemed a really sweet guy. Just as well since she’d told her sisters just before the wedding that two were about to become three. The first baby in the family for more than twenty years. Rose couldn’t wait to meet her niece or nephew, and she was doing her best to ignore the vaguest flicker of jealousy she’d felt when Daisy had told her.
She frowned. How much did a two-hundred-year-old vase cost anyway? She lifted the shirt again and winced. ‘Hmm.’
His eyebrows shot up. ‘What’s “hmm”?’
‘Hmm means it’s deeper than it originally looked and I think you might need stitches. Maybe I can get you a packet of frozen peas from the kitchen?’ She paused and looked around. ‘Do you even know where the kitchen is in here?’ Even as she said the words she almost laughed out loud. Seb’s kitchen would probably spontaneously combust if someone even said the words ‘frozen peas’ in it. Daisy really had moved into a whole different world here.
He shook his head and placed his hand over hers. His hand was nice and warm, whereas hers was cold and clammy. Another thing to annoy her. He wasn’t nearly as worked up as she was. This was all just another day in the life of the Runaway Groom. How often did he wake up next to a strange woman?
‘What were you playing at anyway? You might be Violet’s best friend but why on earth would you be climbing into bed with my sister? It’s obvious from Violet’s reaction that there’s nothing going on between you. What on earth were you doing?’
Will gestured his head towards her suitcase. ‘If I’m going to need stitches why don’t you get dressed? You’ll need to take me to the hospital.’
He hadn’t answered her question. Did he think she hadn’t noticed? Of course she had.
And the assumption that she’d take him to the hospital made her skin bristle.
All of a sudden she was conscious of her distinct lack of clothes. She slid her hand out from under his and moved over to her suitcase, cursing herself when she remembered he’d just had a big view of her backside.
Still, if he sometimes bunked in with Violet, then he was used to being around her sister in a semi-naked state. She glanced backwards. He didn’t seem to have even noticed. Was she relieved or mad? She couldn’t work it out. Apart from a few freckles, moles and little scars—one of which he’d already noted—she and her sister were virtually identical. Maybe that was why he wasn’t looking? He’d seen it all before.
She grabbed a summer dress from her case and pulled it over her head. A little rumpled and yesterday’s underwear still in place. Not the best scenario. But she didn’t fancy fishing through her smalls to find a new set while he sat and watched in his jersey boxer shorts that left nothing to the imagination.
‘Don’t you have a bride in waiting that can take you to hospital?’
He scowled at her. ‘Not even funny, Rose. You work in PR, don’t you? Surely you know better than to believe everything you read in the papers?’
His words were dripping with sarcasm. The nerve she’d apparently just touched ran deep.
She folded her arms across her chest. ‘But I thought most of the time you sold those stories and worked them in your favour.’
‘What made you think that?’ he snapped.
‘Oh, I don’t know. The ten-page photo spreads in Exclusive magazine. How many of them have you featured in now?’
He gritted his teeth together. ‘Not my idea.’
It was good to see him uncomfortable. Waking up with a strange guy in your bed was horribly intimidating. To say nothing of the discomfort and embarrassment. What if she snored—or made strange noises in her sleep?
And he still hadn’t answered the question about sleeping with her sister. What exactly was the deal? His eyes were still fixed furiously on her and the blood was soaking through his shirt. She decided to give him a little leeway.
She gestured towards him. ‘What about you? You can’t wear that shirt. Where are your clothes?’
He wrinkled his nose. ‘I’m not sure. I ran in here at the last minute yesterday. I think my bag might be in Violet’s room.’
‘Violet’s room?’ She said it bluntly, hoping he’d take the hint and decide he should go there. But if he did, he ignored it.
‘Yeah, would you mind running along and grabbing something for me?’ He had that smile on his face. The one that was usually plastered all over the front page of a magazine, or on his face when he was charming some reporter. It was almost as if someone had flicked a little switch and he’d just fallen into his default position. His voice and smile washed over her like a warm summer’s day. Boy, this guy was good. But she was determined not to fall for his charms.
‘I will. But only because I’ve probably scarred you for life. I’m not Violet. I’m not your best friend—or your bed buddy. Once I’ve taken you to the hospital, we’re done. Are we clear?’
His Mediterranean-sea-blue eyes lost all their warmth. ‘Crystal.’ He waited until she’d reached the door before he added, ‘And you’re right. You’re not Violet.’
* * *
He watched her retreating back as she stomped out of the door. His head was definitely muggy and he wasn’t quite sure if it was from the alcohol last night or the head injury this morning.
Part of him felt guilty, part of him felt enraged and part of him was cringing.
Last night was a bit of a blur. He’d just made it to the wedding on time and hadn’t eaten a thing beforehand. His charity commitments were hectic and he was anxious not to let people down, which meant he’d been pulling on his tie and jacket in the sprawling car park at Hawksley Castle. A business call had come in just as dinner had arrived so he’d missed most of that, too. Then the party had truly started. And Violet had mentioned something about staying in her room as she’d fluttered past in her yellow and white bridesmaid dress.
A bridesmaid dress he’d definitely seen on the floor as he’d stumbled into the room. She’d been sleeping peacefully with her back to him and he hadn’t even thought to wake her. Actually, he knew better. If he’d shaken Violet awake to let her know he was there she would have killed him with her bare hands.
Maybe the sisters had more in common than he thought?
It was strange. He’d never once considered Violet in a romantic sense. They’d clicked as friends from the start. Good friends. Nothing more. Nothing less.
He trusted her. Which was a lot more than he could say of some people. She gave it to him straight. There was no flirting, nothing ambiguous. Just plenty of laughs, plenty of support and plenty of ear bashing.
But Violet’s identical twin... Well, she was a whole different story.
It didn’t matter they looked so similar it was scary. They were two totally different people. No wonder they got annoyed when people mixed them up. And you couldn’t get much more of a blunder than the one he’d just made.
But it wasn’t the blunder that was fixating in his head. It was that little missing mole on her left shoulder. The memory of her skin beneath the palm of his hand. And the site of her tanned skin and rounded backside when she’d turned to get dressed. They seemed to have imprinted on his brain. Every time he squeezed his eyes shut, that was the picture he saw inside his head.
He stood up and walked over to the en suite bathroom. He grimaced when he saw his face. It was hardly a spectacular sight. His shirt—worn once—was ruined. Not that he couldn’t afford to buy another one. But he’d picked this one up especially for the wedding. Even millionaires didn’t like waste.
He stuck his head back out of the bathroom door. Maybe he should put his trousers back on? Meeting someone for the first time dressed only in jersey boxers was a bit much—even for him. But every time he lifted his hand from his forehead the blood started gushing again. Struggling into a crumpled pair of trousers one-handed was more than he could think about.
He couldn’t help but smile. He knew Violet well. Her sister Rose? He didn’t know her at all. This was their first meeting. And she obviously wasn’t bowled over by him.
Will wasn’t used to that. Women normally loved him. And he normally loved women. This was a whole new experience for him.
There was more to Rose Huntingdon-Cross than met the eye. And he’d already seen more than his fair share.
He could even forgive the Runaway Groom comments. Violet said her sister was a PR genius and she’d handled the whole publicity for their father’s upcoming tour and charity concert.
Maybe he should get to know Rose a little better?
* * *
Rose strode down the hall. She could feel the fury building in her chest. The audacity of the guy. Who did he think he was?
She pushed open the door of her sister’s room. ‘Violet? What on earth is going on? Why would the Runaway Groom be in bed with me—and think I was you? Why would you be in bed with that guy? And why would there be touching?’
Violet was leaning back on her bed drinking tea, eating chocolate and reading a celebrity magazine. She lifted her eyebrows at her sister and started laughing. ‘You didn’t hook up with Will?’
‘No! I didn’t hook up with Will! I woke up and he was lying next to me. He thought I was you!’
Violet folded her arms across her chest and looked highly amused. ‘He doesn’t like the Runaway Groom tag.’
Rose rolled her eyes. ‘So I gathered.’
Violet grinned. ‘Will copped a feel?’
Rose shivered and waved her hand. ‘Don’t even bring that up.’
Violet shrugged and continued to drink her tea. ‘So, it was a simple mistake. I’d say send him back along the corridor, but...’ she paused and raised her eyebrows, giving Rose that oh, so knowing smile ‘...I’m thinking this looks a whole lot more interesting than that.’
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ Rose was getting mad now. Neither Violet nor Will was really giving anything away about their relationship and she couldn’t understand why it irked her so much.
‘Violet, come and take your plaything back. I don’t have time for this. I’ve got a hundred things to sort out for Dad’s tour. Another set of wedding rings to make for a couple who are getting married in two weeks. And a runaway groom who needs his head stitched. Be a good sister and take him to the hospital for me?’
Violet shook her head and jumped off the bed. ‘Not a chance, dear sister. You caused the injury. You can try and make it up to Will. He can be very good company, I’ll have you know.’
She gave Rose a little nod of approval. ‘By the way, Daisy and Seb’s wedding rings? Probably the nicest I’ve ever seen. That’s what you should be doing. You’re wasting your talent running Dad’s tours for him.’
Rose sighed and sat down on the edge of the bed. A little surge of pride rushed through her chest. Violet’s opinion mattered to her. ‘Making those rings was the best thing I’ve ever done, Vi. I know I’ve made lots of different pieces for people before. But making something for your sister?’ She smiled and gave her head a little shake. ‘And watching the person she loves with her whole heart give it to her and knowing that she’ll wear it for a lifetime? You just can’t beat that.’
A flicker of something passed over Violet’s face. Not annoyance. Not frustration. Just...something.
‘I’ll make your wedding jewellery for you, too,’ she added quickly.
Violet let out a laugh. ‘I’ll need to find a groom first. In fact, we both do. Our baby sister’s gone and beat us to it.’
Rose leaned backwards on the bed, propping herself up with her elbows. ‘I know.’ She lifted one hand up. ‘And she’s done it in such style. Do we really need to call her Lady Holgate now, or Countess? Because I can tell you right now—’ she shook her head ‘—it’s never, ever going to happen.’
The two of them laughed out loud and collapsed back onto the bed. ‘Daisy Waisy it stays.’
Rose turned her head to look at her sister, leaning over and picking up a strand of her blonde hair. ‘You know, Vi, we almost look like twins,’ she said sarcastically. ‘We’ll have to do something about these hairdos.’
Violet sighed. ‘I know. I couldn’t believe it when I saw you the other day. Maybe I’ll go back to curls.’
‘Don’t you dare. That frizzy perm was the worst thing I’ve ever seen.’
Violet laughed and shook her head. ‘Oh, no, the worst thing I’ve ever seen was you kissing Cal Ellerslie at that party years ago.’
Rose’s shoulders started shaking with laughter and she shuddered. ‘Oh, yuck, don’t remind me. I still feel sick at the thought of that. He was all tongue. The guy had no idea what he was doing.’
She turned on her side and rested her head on her hand. ‘Is there anyone you’ve been kissing lately?’
Violet sighed again. ‘You’re joking. There are absolutely no decent men around.’
‘What about Will—your runaway groom?’ She was prying and she knew it. But she couldn’t help but ask the question out loud. Violet had been talking about Will for months. Maybe Rose just hadn’t been paying enough attention.
But Violet’s eyes widened. ‘Are you joking—Will?’ She let out a snort. ‘No way. I mean, I love him to bits—just not like that. Never like that. I trust Will. Completely. I’ve been in his company lots of times, sometimes even raging drunk. He’s a gentleman through and through. He’s the kind of guy that sees you home, puts you to bed and stays with you until morning.’ She wrinkled her nose. ‘In fact, I’ve done the same for him. We’re good company for each other.’ She smiled. ‘And every time he gets engaged, I get to buy a new wedding outfit with matching shoes and bag. What more could a girl want? Even if they never get an airing.’
Rose rolled her eyes. She knew better than most that Violet couldn’t care less about wedding outfits, shoes and handbags. She was much more down-to-earth than most celebrities. They all were. ‘Yeah, right.’
But Violet had drifted off. Her eyes were fixed on the ornately decorated ceiling, carved with cherubs. ‘There’s just no spark between us, Posey. None. Not even a little zing, a little tingle.’ She turned her head to face her sister on the bed. ‘You know what I mean?’
Oh, boy, did she. She’d felt that little tingle shoot up her arm like an electric shock. She blinked. Her sister was looking at her with her identical big blue eyes. They were unyielding. Their bond was strong. She’d always been able to see inside Rose’s head—even when Rose didn’t want her to.
Rose shifted uncomfortably on the bed. But Violet blinked. For once, she was lost in her own little world. ‘I mean, there’s got to be someone out there.’ She regained her focus. ‘For both of us,’ she added quickly.
Rose smiled. It was the first time she’d ever seen her sister actually contemplate a future partner. Maybe the fact their younger sister, Daisy, had beat them both up the aisle and was going to be a mother had made their biological clocks start to tick. It was an interesting concept. And one she wasn’t quite sure she was ready to explore.
Coming back to England had been hard enough. Visiting in the last three years had been painful. Everything seemed to be a reminder of that dreadful night a few years ago. The one that was imprinted on her brain like a painful branding.
But sisters were sisters. She couldn’t really stay away too long. She still spoke to, Skyped or emailed her sisters every day. Not even an ocean—or a tragic death—could come between them.
But now her father’s tour was coming back to Britain. It was big news for the band. A relaunch after a few quiet years—with only an annual charity concert—followed by a brand-new album. And she had to be here, in England, to deal with the last few PR issues. Her quietly building wedding jewellery business would have to be pushed to the side for a few months. She needed time to focus on the final details of the tour.
The last thing she needed was any distractions. And that was exactly what the Runaway Groom was—a distraction. Even if he did make her arm tingle.
Rose rolled off the bed. She hated that little feeling at the pit of her stomach. The one that had given a little flutter when her sister had assured her there was nothing between her and Will.
Nothing at all. Funny how those words were so strangely satisfying.
CHAPTER TWO (#uaaf1e6b2-70ab-5123-8191-3129f80e3e07)
THE FROZEN PEAS were a godsend. It appeared that Hawksley Castle did have some—even though Rose had doubted. The lump on his head wasn’t quite so big and, as long as he kept them pressed to his head, the bleeding stopped.
He’d managed to struggle into the T-shirt and jeans that Rose had brought from his bag in Violet’s room. But instead of leaving him alone to get dressed, she’d leaned against the wall with her arms folded.
‘What, no privacy?’
‘From the guy who was in my bed? You lost the privacy privilege a while ago, mister. Anyway, hurry up. I’ve got things to do today.’
‘Really? I would have thought after your sister’s wedding you might want to chill out a bit.’
She crossed the room as he slid his feet into his training shoes. ‘I’d like to have time to chill out, but I don’t. I’ve got the final touches to make to my dad’s tour, then I need to finish some jewellery for another bride.’
He looked up. ‘Ready. Do you know where the nearest hospital is?’
She nodded. ‘I know this area well. Let’s go.’
They walked down the corridor and out of the front doors of Hawksley Castle. She opened the door of a pale blue Rolls-Royce and nodded at him to get in the other side.
Will couldn’t hide the smile on his face as he slid into the cream leather seat. ‘Didn’t take you for this kind of car,’ he said in amusement.
She started the engine and frowned at him. ‘What kind of car did you think I’d drive?’
‘Something sporty. Something small. Probably something red.’ He looked thoughtful for a second. ‘Probably one of those new-style Minis.’ He wasn’t revealing that his identical Rolls-Royce was parked a few cars down in the car park.
She pulled out of the car park and down the sweeping mile-long driveway. ‘This is my dad’s. You forget, I’ve been in New York for the last three years. There isn’t much point in me having a car here right now, so I just borrow one when I’m home.’
‘And he lets you?’ Rick Cross’s car collection was legendary. ‘How many does he actually have?’
She laughed. And it was the first genuine laugh he’d heard from her. It was beautiful. Light and frivolous. Two things that Rose didn’t really emanate. ‘You mean, how many does Mum think he has—or how many does he actually have?’
Now Will started laughing. ‘Really? How does he manage that? Where on earth can he hide cars from her?’
She shrugged. ‘He’s a master. We’ve got more than one home. You’ll have seen the garages at Huntingdon Hall. There are eighteen cars there. Four in New York. Three in Mustique. And—’ she glanced over her shoulder as if to check if someone was there ‘—another twelve at an unspecified location in London.’
‘Another twelve? You’ve got to be joking.’
‘I never joke about my father.’ She shrugged. ‘What can I say? It’s his money. He can spend it how he likes. Same with my mother. They have beautiful homes, there might even have been the odd nip and tuck here and there, and to the outside world they seem like a pretty frivolous couple.’
He could hear the edge in her voice. Just as he’d heard the same tone in Violet’s voice on a few occasions. He’d met Rick and Sherry. They seemed like regular, nice folks. Polite, well-mannered, and they obviously loved their daughters.
‘So, what’s the problem?’
Her head whipped around. ‘Who said there was a problem?’
‘You did. Just now.’
‘I did not.’
He sighed. ‘You and Violet are more alike than you think. She does that, too—starts talking about your parents and then starts to say strange things.’
‘She does?’ Her voice was a little squeaky and her knuckles turned white on the steering wheel. It was nothing to do with her driving. And nothing to do with the car.
The Rolls-Royce was eating up the country roads with ease. It should be a pleasant enough drive. But Rose looked tense.
‘You must deal with the press all the time. Why does it annoy you when they describe your parents as frivolous?’
‘Because they’re not really. Not at heart. Yes, they spend money. But they also give a lot away. Lots of celebrities do. My mum and dad both support lots of charities.’
He nodded. ‘Yeah, I remember. I’ve seen her in the magazines and doing TV interviews.’
‘That’s what you see. What you don’t see is all the work they don’t let the public know about. My dad does a lot of work for one of the Alzheimer’s charities. He doesn’t tell anyone about it. My mum works on a helpline for children. She sometimes does a twelve-hour shift and then goes out to do her other charity work.’
‘That sounds great. So, why are you annoyed?’ He couldn’t understand why either of the sisters would be unhappy about their mum and dad doing good work.
‘Because they are so insistent that no one finds out. Sometimes I think they’re working themselves into the ground. To the world they seem quite frivolous. But they’re not like that in person.’
‘I don’t get it. Why the big secret? What’s the big deal?’ His arm was beginning to ache from holding it against his head. He might be a millionaire himself, but even he didn’t want to risk bleeding all over the inside of Rick’s precious car.
Rose turned the car onto a main road, following signs toward the hospital. ‘Because they don’t want people to know. My uncle—my dad’s brother—has Alzheimer’s. He developed it really early. It’s in my dad’s family and he says it’s private. He doesn’t want people knowing that part of his life and invading my uncle’s privacy. Mum’s the same. She says the calls from the kids are all confidential. If people knew she worked there, the phone line would probably get a whole host of crank calls that would jam the lines.’
He nodded. ‘I get it. Then, the kids that needed to, couldn’t get through.’
She pulled into the hospital car park. ‘Exactly.’
‘So, your parents do something good.’ He waited while she pulled into a parking space. ‘I can relate to that.’
‘You can?’ She seemed surprised.
‘Yeah. I do a lot of work for one of the homeless charities. But it doesn’t get a lot of good publicity. It’s something I need to think about.’ He gave her a smile. ‘Maybe you could give me some advice? You do PR for your father? Maybe you could tell me what I should be doing to raise the profile of the charity.’
She gave the slightest shake of her head. ‘Sorry, Will, but this is it for me. I’ve got a hundred and one things to do in the next few weeks. I don’t even know how long I’ll be staying. Once your head is stitched I need to get back to work.’
He climbed out of the car, still pressing the now unfrozen peas to his head. Rose was intriguing him. He could use someone to give him PR advice. Someone who knew how to try and spin the press. Maybe he should try and persuade her?
The woman behind the desk didn’t even blink when he appeared at the desk. ‘Name?’
‘Will Carter.’
She lifted her eyebrows and gave a half-smile. ‘Oh, it’s you. Did one of those brides finally give you the smack you deserved?’
He couldn’t help but smile. ‘No. I’m all out of brides at the moment—have been for a little while.’ He glanced towards Rose, who was looking distinctly uncomfortable. ‘It was just a friend who did this.’
A nurse walked towards them and the receptionist handed her a card. ‘Will Carter, the Runaway Groom. Head injury.’ She rolled her eyes. ‘What a surprise.’
The nurse gave a little grin and nodded her head. ‘This way.’
‘Come on.’ He followed the nurse down the corridor and gestured to Rose to follow them.
Her footsteps faltered. It was obvious she didn’t really want to come along. But Will had just been hit by a brainwave. And a perfect way to make it work.
* * *
‘I’ll just sit in the waiting room,’ she said quickly. She’d no wish to see Will Carter getting his head stitched. Even the thought of it made her feel a bit queasy.
‘No, you won’t.’ His voice was smooth as silk. ‘I want you with me.’
The nurse’s eyebrows rose just a little as she pulled back the cubicle curtains. ‘Climb up on the trolley, Mr Carter, and I’ll go and get some supplies to clean your wound.’
She disappeared for a second while Rose stood shifting self-consciously on her feet, not quite sure where to put herself.
‘What’s wrong, Rose? Don’t like hospitals?’
‘What? No, I don’t mind them. I just would have preferred to sit in the waiting room.’
He lifted the peas from his head. ‘Don’t you want to see the damage you’ve done?’
Her face paled. ‘But I didn’t mean to. I mean, you know that. And what did you expect? You climbed into bed with a perfect stranger.’
The nurse cleared her throat loudly as she wheeled the dressing trolley into the cubicle.
Rose felt the colour flood into her cheeks. Twenty-seven years old and she was feeling around five. ‘I didn’t mean... I mean, nothing happened...’ She was stumbling over her words, her brain so full of embarrassment that she couldn’t make sense to herself, let alone to anyone else.
The nurse waved her hand as she walked to the sink and started scrubbing her hands. ‘Everything’s confidential here. My lips are sealed.’
‘But there’s nothing to—’
Will was laughing. He leaned over and grabbed her hand. ‘Leave it, Rose. You’re just making things worse.’ As he relaxed back against the trolley, his hand tugged her a little closer. There was a gleam of amusement in his eyes. Mr Charming wasn’t flustered at all and it irked her.
‘I kind of like seeing you like this.’ Even his voice sounded amused. She’d never wanted out of somewhere so badly. She could practically hear the waiting room calling her name.
‘Seeing me like what?’ she snapped. The nurse had finished washing her hands and was opening a sterile pack and some equipment on the dressing trolley. She couldn’t wipe the smile from her face.
Will’s dimple appeared. ‘You know—babbling. Violet doesn’t get like this at all. It’s quite nice to see you flapping around.’
‘I’m not flapping around. This is all your fault anyway—and you know it.’
The nurse lifted the peas from Will’s head and deposited them in the bin. ‘Youch,’ she said, pulling a head lamp a little closer. ‘It looks as though you might have a tiny fragment in your wound. What caused your injury?’
‘She did.’
‘A vase.’
Their voices came out in unison. Rose was horrified. He’d just told the nurse this was her fault. The nurse’s eyes flickered from one to the other. Thank goodness she was bound by confidentiality, otherwise this would appear all over the national press.
But she was the ultimate professional. She picked up some swabs and dipped them in the solution on the dressing trolley, along with a pair of tweezers. ‘Brace yourself, Mr Carter. This is going to sting a bit. I’m going to give this a clean, then try and pry out the little piece of vase that is embedded in your wound. Five or six stitches should close this up fine.’
‘Five or six?’ Rose was beginning to feel light-headed. ‘Can’t you just use that glue stuff?’
The nurse shook her head. ‘Not for this kind of wound. It’s very deep. Stitches will give the best result—and hopefully the least amount of scarring.’ She pulled up some liquid into a syringe. ‘I’m just going to give you an injection to numb the area before we start.’ Her experience showed. The injection was finished in a few seconds. ‘It will tingle for a bit,’ she warned. Her gaze shot from one to the other. ‘I’m obliged to ask, but I take it from your tone this was an accidental injury?’
Rose felt her cheeks flame. ‘Absolutely.’ She couldn’t get the words out quickly enough.
Will was watching Rose with those dark blue-rimmed eyes. She saw a flicker of something behind his eyes. He looked at the nurse with a remarkable amount of sincerity. ‘Rose wouldn’t normally hurt a fly. There’s nothing to worry about. So, you said I’ll definitely have a scar, then?’
‘Yes.’ She nodded as she cleaned the wound. ‘Think of yourself as Harry Potter.’ She gave a little laugh. ‘I hear he gets all the girls.’
Was it hot in here? Or had she just forgotten to put deodorant on this morning? It was getting uncomfortably warm. She pulled her dress away from her body for a few seconds to let the air circulate.
Will was still watching her as he continued his conversation with the nurse. ‘Will it be a bad scar?’
Rose shifted on her feet. Boy, he was laying it on thick. Stop talking about the scar. Guilt was flooding through her. She’d just scarred a man for life. And it seemed as if he’d talk about it for ever.
The nurse bent forward with her tweezers, then pulled back. ‘Here it is!’ She dropped the microscopic piece of vase on the dressing trolley. How on earth had she even seen it?
She gave Will’s head a final clean, then picked up the stitching kit. ‘This won’t take long. I’ll give you some instructions for the next few days.’ She glanced towards Rose. ‘When the vase hit you—were you knocked out?’
‘No,’ he said quickly. ‘I was sleeping and, believe me, once the vase hit I was wide awake.’
Rose rolled her eyes and looked away. He was making a meal of this. It was clear the nurse was lapping up his Mr Charming act. And it was making her more than a little uncomfortable.
Because, like it or not, it was hard not to get pulled in. One look from those big eyes, along with the killer smile and dimple, was enough to make the average woman’s knees turn to mush.
No wonder this guy got so much good press. Why on earth would he think he needed any help?
She fixed her eyes on the floor as the nurse started expertly stitching the wound. Will Carter, Runaway Groom would now have a scar above his left eyebrow. A scar that she’d caused. It was definitely making her feel a bit sick.
The stitches were over in a matter of minutes and then the nurse handed Will a set of head injury instructions. ‘You shouldn’t be on your own for the next twenty-four hours.’ She gave Rose a smile. ‘I’m assuming that won’t be a problem?’
‘What? You mean me? No. No, I can’t. Will? I’m sure there must be someone who can keep you company for the next twenty-four hours.’ A wave of panic was coming over her.
But Will shook his head, then lifted his hand towards his head. ‘Ouch.’
The nurse moved forward again and looked back to Rose. ‘This is why he really needs someone to be around him. There can be after-effects with a head injury. If you can’t supervise he’ll need to be admitted to hospital. Are you sure you can’t help?’
Her tone was serious. It was obvious she was apportioning the blame at Rose’s door. The words were stuck in her throat. And as the guilt swamped her she couldn’t think of a single good reason to say no.
Will leaned forward a little. The tiniest movement. The nurse had her back to him with her hand on her hip. Will’s face appeared through the gap at her elbow and he pointed to his head. ‘Scarred for life,’ he mouthed before giving her a wink.
The cheeky ratbag. He was trying to blackmail her. And she hated to admit it—but it was working.
‘Fine.’ She snatched the instructions from the nurse’s hand. ‘Anything else?’
The nurse switched on her automatic smile. ‘Not at all.’ She turned to Will. ‘Pleasure to meet you, Mr Carter. Pay special attention to the instructions and—’ she glanced at Rose ‘—I wish you well for the future.’ She wheeled her dressing trolley out of the cubicle.
Rose was fuming. Half of her thought this was all his own fault, and half of her was wondering if the millionaire would sue her for personal damages. She’d heard of these things before. What if Will couldn’t sell his next wedding to Exclusive magazine because of his scar?
What if he sold the story of how he got his scar instead? She groaned and leaned back against the wall.
‘Rose, are you going to pass out? Sorry, I didn’t think you were squeamish.’
She opened her eyes to face his broad chest. He’d made a miraculous recovery and was standing in front of her with his hand on her arm to steady her.
The irony wasn’t lost on her. She was supposed to be looking after him—not the other way about.
He’d told her he needed help with publicity. Maybe she’d unwittingly played into his hands? Her brain started to spin.
Her head sagged back and hit against the cold hospital wall. Her eyes sprang back open and he was staring right at her again.
How many women had he charmed with those blue eyes? And that killer dimple...
His arm slid around her shoulders. ‘It’s hot in here. Maybe you’ll feel better if we get some fresh air.’
His body seemed to automatically steer hers along. Her feet walking in concordance with his, along the hospital corridor and back out to the car park. Her first reaction was to shake off his unwanted arm.
But something weird was happening. Her body seemed to enjoy being next to his. She seemed to fit well under his shoulder. In her simple sundress the touch of his arm across her shoulders was sending little currents to places that had been dormant for a while.
Twenty-four hours. That was how long she would have to be in his company.
Panic was starting to flood through her, pushing aside all the other confusing thoughts. This guy could charm the birds from the trees. She’d thought she’d be immune. But her body impulses were telling her differently.
As soon as the fresh air hit she wriggled free from under his arm. ‘I’m fine.’ She walked across the car park and jiggled her keys in her hand.
‘We need to have some ground rules.’
He leaned against the Rolls-Royce. She could almost hear her father scream in her ear.
‘What exactly might they be?’ One eyebrow was raised. He probably couldn’t raise the other. That part of his forehead would still be anaesthetised. Darn it. The guilty feelings were sneaking their way back in.
‘I think when we get back to Hawksley Castle we should ask Violet to stay with you. After all, she knows you best. She’ll know if you do anything out of character—like grope strange women.’ She couldn’t help but throw it in there. She waved the instructions at him. ‘You know, anything that might mean you need to go back to hospital.’ Now she was saying the words out loud they made perfect sense.
He waved his finger at her. ‘Oh, no, you don’t.’
‘Don’t what?’
‘Try and get out of this.’ He pointed to his forehead. ‘You did this to me, Rose. It’s your job to hang around to make sure I’m okay.’
He was so smooth. A mixture of treacle and syrup.
‘Oh, stop it, Will. I’m not your typical girl. I’m not going to fall at your feet and expect a ring. And if you keep going the way you are I’ll hit you again with the next vase I find. I’ve got things to do. I can’t hang around Hawksley Castle.’
He smiled and opened the car door. ‘Who said we were spending the next twenty-four hours at Hawksley Castle?’
She started as he climbed in. She pulled open the car door and slid in. ‘What on earth do you mean? Of course we’re going back to Hawksley Castle.’
He shook his head. ‘I think both of us have overstayed our welcome. You’ve damaged one of Seb’s precious heirlooms and I’ve probably put immovable stains on an ancient carpet and wall. I suggest we regroup and go somewhere else.’
She started the engine. ‘Like where?’
‘Like Gideon Hall.’
Gideon Hall. Will Carter’s millionaire mansion. At least at Hawksley Castle she’d be surrounded by family and friends. There was safety in numbers. Being alone with Will Carter wasn’t something she wanted to risk.
‘Oh, no. I need to work, Will.’
‘I can give you access to a phone and computer. What else do you need?’
‘My jewellery equipment, my soldering iron, my casting machine. My yellow, white and rose gold. My precious stones. Do you have any of those at Gideon Hall?’
The confident grin fell from his face. ‘You’re serious about making the jewellery?’
His question annoyed her. ‘Of course I am. Working for my dad is the day job. Working to make wedding jewellery? That’s the job I actually want to do. I spend most of my nights working on jewellery for upcoming weddings. I have an order to make wedding rings for a bride and groom. I can’t afford to take any time off.’
It was nice to see his unwavering confidence start to fail. It seemed Mr Charming hadn’t thought of everything.
She sighed. ‘If need be, we can collect our things from Seb’s, then go back to my parents’ place. If you’ve hung around with Violet long enough you must be familiar with it.’
He settled back in the chair. ‘Do you have your equipment at your parents’ house?’
She nodded. ‘I have one set in New York, and one set here.’
‘That’s fine. We can move it to my house in the next hour. I’ll get someone to help us.’
He pulled his phone from his pocket and started dialling. ‘What? No. What on earth is wrong with you? I’ve said I’ll hang around you for the next twenty-four hours. Isn’t that enough?’
He turned to face her. ‘Actually, no, it’s not. I’ve got a meeting later on today with a potential investor for the homeless charity. It’s taken for ever to set up and I don’t want to miss it.’
‘Can’t you just change the venue?’
Will let out a long, slow puff of air and named a footballer her father had had a spat with a few months ago. ‘How would your dad feel about him being in his house?’
She gulped. ‘Wow. No. He’d probably blow a gasket. He hates the guy.’ She frowned. ‘Are you sure he’s the right kind of guy to help your charity?’ She was racking her brains. Her dad was a good judge of character. He could spot a fake at twenty paces and didn’t hesitate to tell them. She was sure there was a good reason he didn’t like this footballer—she just couldn’t remember what it was.
Will still couldn’t frown properly. It was kind of cute. ‘I’ve no idea. I’ve never met him before. But he’s well known and popular with sports fans. It’s not so much about the money. It’s the publicity I need help with. We need to get the homeless agenda on people’s radars. They need to understand the reason people end up on the streets. It’s not just because they’re drunks, or drug addicts or can’t hold down a job.’
She turned back into the grounds of Hawksley Castle. ‘You’re really serious about this, aren’t you?’
‘Of course I am. Why would you think I’m not?’
She bit her lip. ‘What’s in it for you? Why is a homeless charity your thing?’
It took him a few seconds to answer. ‘I had a friend at university who ended up on the streets. I didn’t know. He didn’t ask anyone for help because he didn’t want anyone to know the kind of trouble he was in. I found out later when someone tried to rob him and stabbed him in the process. The police found my details amongst his things.’
She pulled the car to a halt and turned to face him. ‘Was he dead?’
Will shook his head. It was the first time she’d really seen complete sincerity on his face. No charm, no dimple, no killer smile. In a way, it made him all the more handsome even though she tried to push that thought from her brain.
‘No. But Arral needed help. And there’s a lot more people out there who need help, too.’
‘So, you really want good PR to raise awareness and you think this footballer will give you it?’
He folded his arms across his chest. ‘Is that scepticism I hear in your voice, Rose?’
She gave him a smile as she opened the door and took the key from the ignition. ‘I just don’t know if he’s your best choice.’
Will climbed out next to her. ‘Neither do I, but, right now, he’s my only option. How long will it take you to grab your stuff?’
She shrugged. ‘My clothes? Five minutes. What about my equipment?’
‘I’ll arrange for someone to go your parents’ and pick it up. Do you want to drop by first?’
She nodded. ‘It won’t take long. Let me get my clothes and I’ll meet you back here.’
* * *
Will was true to his word. There was a man with a van waiting outside her parents’ house when they arrived. She took him around to her workshop and collected the things she’d need to start work later that night.
As she was collecting a few other items her father appeared. ‘Oh, hi, Dad. I didn’t expect you to be back yet. I thought you’d still be at Hawksley Castle.’
He smiled. ‘Your mother and I came back an hour ago. We had a few things we wanted to discuss.’
Her mother appeared at her father’s side, his arm slipping around her waist and resting on her hip. Sherry Huntingdon still had her model-girl looks and figure even though she was in her fifties.
Rose’s father’s face was a little more lived-in. Rock and roll did that to you. His hair was still longer than normal—he still loved the shaggy rock-star look.
Rose’s stomach started to do little flip-flops. Her father’s words were a bit ominous. He had a tendency to spring things on her. And it looked as if nothing was about to change.
Rick crossed the room and put his hand out towards Will. ‘Will, aren’t you hanging around with the wrong daughter?’ There was an amused tone in his voice. ‘And what happened to your head? Did one of those brides finally get you?’ He threw back his head and let out a hearty laugh.
Rose cringed. How many times was Will going to hear those words?
But Will seemed unperturbed. ‘Ask Rose—she was the one that socked me with a vase.’
‘She what?’ Rose’s mother seemed shocked.
Rose waved her hand quickly. ‘It was a misunderstanding. That’s all. What did you come back to talk about, Dad?’ She wanted to distract them before they asked too many questions.
Her mother and father turned and smiled at each other. There it was. That sappy look that they got sometimes. In a way it was nice. Still romantic. It was obvious to the world that they still loved each other.
It was just a tad embarrassing when it was your parents.
‘Your mother and I have made a decision.’
‘What kind of decision?’ She had a bad feeling about this.
Both of them couldn’t stop smiling and it was making her toes curl. She just knew this was going to be something big.
‘After all the preparations for Daisy’s wedding—and the fact everything went so beautifully—your mother and I have decided to renew our wedding vows.’
‘You have?’ It was so not what she expected to hear.
Her mother put her hand on her father’s chest. She was in that far-off place she went to when ideas started to float around her head. ‘You know we never had a big wedding.’ She turned to acknowledge Will. ‘We ran away to Vegas and got married after only knowing each other for a weekend. I never really had the fancy dress, flowers or meal like Daisy had. So, we’ve decided to do it all again.’
Rick shrugged and smiled at Will. ‘It might seem hasty, but believe me—’ he smiled at his wife ‘—when you know, you just know.’
A thousand little centipedes had started to crawl over Rose’s skin. She had a horrid feeling she knew exactly where this was going.
‘It’s a lovely idea. When were you thinking? Next year—after the tour is over?’
‘Oh, no.’ Rose’s mother laughed. ‘In a few weeks.’
‘A few weeks!’ She couldn’t help but raise her voice. Will shot her a look, obviously trying to calm her. But he had no idea what was coming next. Rose did.
Sherry stepped forward. ‘What’s the problem? We have the perfect venue.’ She spun around. ‘Here. We just need a marquee for the grounds. And a caterer. And some flowers. And some dresses.’ She turned to Rick and laughed. ‘And a band!’
Rick stepped forward. ‘It shouldn’t be a problem. You can arrange all that in a few weeks, can’t you, Rose? You do everything so perfectly. And you’re just so organised. We couldn’t possibly trust anyone else with something so important.’ Her father stepped over and gave her a hug and dropped a kiss on her cheek. It was clear he was floating on the same love-swept cloud that her mother was.
‘Me?’ Her voice came out in a squeak as Will’s eyes widened in shock.
Oh, now he understood. This was what she got for doing such a good job. She was the official PA for her father’s band and her mother’s career. With all the tour preparations she barely had time to sleep right now. But she loved her parents dearly so she let them think it was all effortless. Her parents had been so strong and so supportive when she’d needed them—even though she secretly felt she’d disappointed them. Their love and support was the only thing that had got her through. All she wanted to do was make them proud. If they were trusting her with something like this? It made her anxious to please them, to let them be confident in her choices, even if this was the last thing she needed.
Her father’s voice was steady. ‘You know just how hard your mother’s been working recently. And what with planning Daisy’s wedding, she’s just exhausted. If you could do all this it would be a whole weight off our minds.’
The dopey smiles on her parents’ faces were enough to melt her heart—even though it was fluttering frantically in her chest and her brain was going into overdrive.
Will seemed to pick up on her overwhelming sense of panic. He stepped forward. ‘What a fantastic idea. But these things normally take a while to plan—don’t you want to wait a while and get everything just right?’
It was a valiant attempt. But Rose knew exactly how this would go. Once her parents got an idea in their heads there was no changing their minds.
Rick gave a wave of his hand. ‘Nonsense. It didn’t take long to sort out Daisy’s wedding, did it?’ He gave Rose that look. The one he always did when she knew he meant business. Rick Cross had invented the word determined.
‘I’m not sure, Dad. There’s a lot to do, what with the tour and the charity concert and everything.’
His hand rested on her arm and he glanced in his wife’s direction. ‘Now, Rose. Let’s give your mother the wedding she always deserved.’
The truth was he wasn’t picking up her cues. He was too busy concentrating on the rapt expression on his wife’s face. Anxiety was building in her stomach. If she could do this, maybe she could repay her parents for everything they’d done for her. When she’d been splashed over the press when her friend had died she couldn’t have asked for better advocates or supporters. Family was everything.
She started to murmur out loud. ‘But I know nothing about weddings. Receptions, marquees, dinners, dresses...’
Her mother smiled. ‘Oh, honey. Leave the dress to me. I’m going to get the one I always wanted.’ Her gaze locked with Rick’s and it was clear they were lost in their own little world.
Rick waved his hand. ‘Ask Daisy. She knows all about it.’ He let out a little laugh. ‘Or ask your friend. He’s had his fair share of organising weddings.’
Her parents turned and drifted back out of the room, lost in conversation with each other. That was it. Decision made. And everything left to Rose.
Rose turned to face Will. Her tongue was stuck to the roof of her mouth. She’d kill for a cosmopolitan right now. Her mouth was so dry she couldn’t even begin to form words. She’d been blindsided. By her parents.
Will was looking just as pale.
She lifted her hands. ‘I... I...’ But the words wouldn’t come out. The only sound that did come out was a sob. All this work. Organising a wedding in a few weeks might be okay for some people. But some people weren’t Rick Cross and Sherry Huntingdon. They’d have a spectacular guest list—who’d all come with their list of demands. Where on earth would she find the kind of caterer she’d need at short notice? Her parents were very picky about food.
And what was worse—already she wanted it to be perfect for them.
Her heart was thudding in her chest. The more she thought, the more she panicked. Her chest was tight. The air couldn’t get in. It couldn’t circulate. Tears sprang to her eyes.
Will stepped straight in front of her. ‘Rose? Sit down. You’re a terrible colour.’ He pulled a chair over and pushed her down onto it, kneeling beside her. ‘In fact, no. Put your head between your legs.’
The inside of his palm connected with the back of her head and pushed down. She didn’t even have time to object.
The thudding started to slow. She wasn’t quite so panicky. After a few seconds she finally managed to pull in a breath.
This was a nightmare. A big nightmare. She didn’t have enough hours in the day to do what her parents wanted. But how on earth could she say no?
She lifted her head a little and a tear snaked down her cheek. She wiped it away quickly.
Will looked worried. ‘There must be someone else who can organise this for them? What about your sisters? They can help? Or can’t you hire someone?’
‘To organise my own parents’ renewal of vows? How, exactly, would that look?’ She waved her hand. ‘And Daisy might just have done it all but she’s off on her honeymoon to Italy for the next two weeks. Violet knows as much about weddings as I do.’ Her voice cracked as their gazes collided.
And something in her head went ping.
‘Will, you have to help me.’
A furrow creased his brow. The anaesthetic had finally started to wear off. ‘But isn’t it supposed to be the other way? I wanted you to give me some advice about PR for my homeless charity.’
She straightened her shoulders and drew in a deep breath. Things were starting to clear in her head. She wasn’t dumb. Only an hour ago Will Carter hadn’t been above trying to blackmail her. Head injury or not—it was time for her to use the same tactics.
‘Dad was right. You have the perfect skill set to help me out here. Help us out.’
Realisation started to dawn on him and he shook his head. ‘Oh, no. Your dad wasn’t being serious.’ It was his turn to start to look panicked.
She smiled. This was starting to feel good. ‘Oh, I think he was.’
She placed her hands on her hips as she stood up. Will was still kneeling by her chair. It was the first time she’d been head and shoulders above him. There was something empowering about this. She held out her hand towards him. This might be the only way out of this mess.
‘Will Carter? If you want my help, then I want yours.’ She could feel herself start to gain momentum.
‘You can’t be serious.’
‘Oh, but I am. I help you and you help me.’
He stood up. ‘Do what exactly?’
There was something good about the way he mirrored the same panicked expression she’d had a few minutes earlier.
She stretched her hand a little further. ‘I help you with your PR. You help me with this crazy wedding renewal.’
He shook his head. ‘I think you’ve got this all wrong. I only ever made it to one wedding. The rest never got anything like that far. Sure, I helped with some of the planning but that doesn’t make me an expert. The label in the press—Runaway Groom—it doesn’t really mean that. I’ve never even been a groom.’ He was blustering, trying anything to get out of this. ‘I don’t even like weddings!’ was his last try.
She pressed her lips together to stop herself from laughing out loud. She liked seeing him floundering around. Will Carter liked to be in control. Liked to be charming. She could almost feel the weight lift from her shoulders. This might even be the tiniest bit fun.
She smiled at him. ‘Will Carter? I think you’re about to be my new best friend.’
The Runaway Groom was starting to look a whole lot more interesting.
CHAPTER THREE (#uaaf1e6b2-70ab-5123-8191-3129f80e3e07)
WILL WAS STARTING to freak.
What had started as a bit of flirting and curiosity was turning into something closely related to the things he normally fled from.
It didn’t matter that this was someone else’s wedding. Weddings were the last thing he wanted to get involved in.
Except, he’d said that before. Four times exactly.
And he always meant it. Right up until he met the next girl—the next love of his life—and things went spectacularly. The romance, the love, the inevitable engagement, the press and then the plans started.
Everything always started swimmingly. Beautiful, fairy-tale venues. Wonderful menus. Great bands.
Then, things started to get uncomfortable. Fights about meaningless crap. Colours, ties or cravats, kilts or suits. Sisters and mothers-in-law interfering in he didn’t even know what.
Arguments about wedding vows, dresses—spectacular scenes about dresses having to be ordered eighteen months in advance and not arriving in time. Ridiculous costs for ‘favours’—things that no one even cared about and everyone left lying on the dinner tables anyway.
Tantrums over cakes. Tantrums over cars.
And love dying somewhere along the process. But it wasn’t the wedding process that really did it for him. It was that feeling of for ever. That idea of being with one person for the rest of your life. Whenever his bride-to-be had started talking about wedding vows Will always felt an overwhelming sense of panic. And all of a sudden he wasn’t so sure.
It didn’t help that he knew his friend Arral’s wife had walked out and left Arral when he’d lost his job. It had all contributed to Arral sinking into depression and ending up homeless. For better or worse. Someone to grow old with. The theory was great. But what if when the chips were down his potential bride-to-be decided she didn’t want for ever any more?
He didn’t really understand why, but as the wedding date drew nearer Will always had a massive case of cold feet. Actually, it wasn’t cold feet. More like being encompassed by the iceberg that had sunk the Titanic.
The trouble with being a nice guy was that it was hard to realise when exactly to back out. Once, he’d got right to the main event, but had backed out in spectacular fashion, earning him the nickname the Runaway Groom.
Even now he winced and closed his eyes. His bride-to-be had sensed his doubts and made veiled threats about what she might do if he didn’t turn up.
So, he’d turned up. And made sure when he left she was surrounded by family and friends—even if all the family and friends were about to do him a permanent injury.
Violet had a theory on all this. She said that he hadn’t met the right girl yet. Once he had? Everything would fall into place. Everything would click and he wouldn’t have any of these doubts and fears. But what did Violet know about all this?
‘I’m not the guy for this,’ he said quickly.
Rose seemed capable. From what Violet had told him Rose ran her life like clockwork. She never missed a deadline and made sure all those around her never missed one, too. He would only get in the way of someone like that.
Rose was standing in front of him. Her pale blue eyes fixed on his. ‘Oh, yes, you are.’ There was an edge to her voice. A determination he hadn’t heard before.
But he recognised the trait. She was obviously her father’s daughter.
‘Oh, no, I’m not.’
Rose folded her arms across her chest. It was very unfortunate. All it did was emphasise her breasts in her pale yellow sundress. He could hardly tear his eyes away.
‘Will Carter, you are not going to leave me in this mess.’
It felt as if the room were crowding around him. The walls, slowly but surely pushing forward. Sort of the way he normally felt when he knew he had to run from a wedding. None of this was his making. None of this was his responsibility.
‘This isn’t anything to do with me, Rose. It’s bad enough that you cracked me over the head and scarred me for life with some vase. Now, you’re trying to force me to help with your parents’ wedding plans. This is nothing to do with me. Nothing at all. I’m far too busy for this. I’ve got a hundred other things to do to get publicity for my homeless charity. That’s where I need to focus my efforts right now. Not on some celebrity wedding.’ He flicked his hand, and she narrowed her gaze.
She was mad. And not just a little.
‘Don’t you give me any of your crap.’ She poked her finger into his chest. ‘You slunk your way into my bed uninvited. You’ve forced me to be around you for the next twenty-four hours when I should be working. I’m good at my job, Will. I manage my commitments. But this? On top of everything else I’ve got to do? I know nothing about weddings. Nothing. Ask me to design the jewellery—fine. Ask me to do anything else? I don’t have a clue.’ She poked his chest again. ‘Which is where you come in.’
She lifted her chin and gave him a smug smile. ‘You want publicity for your homeless charity? Oh, I can get you publicity. I can get you publicity in ways you might never even have imagined. But it comes at a price.’
Boy, she could look fierce when she wanted to. He wondered whatever happened to any guy that crossed her. He could barely begin to imagine.
‘Weddings give me cold sweats,’ he said quickly.
‘Weddings have you running for the hills,’ she countered.
There was no way she was going to back down. He was beginning to regret virtually blackmailing her into coming back to his house for twenty-four hours. Somehow him doing the blackmailing didn’t seem quite so bad as her doing it back.
That would teach him.
But something happened. Rose seemed to change tack. A smile appeared on her face and she reached over and rubbed his arm. ‘This one won’t require you to break out in a cold sweat, Will. You’re safe. This is someone else’s wedding you’re organising—not your own.’ The smile stayed fixed on her face. He had a sneaking suspicion she was used to getting her own way.
But something was burning away underneath. It didn’t matter that the face was identical to his best friend’s. The personality and actions were totally different. She even smelled different. And her scent was currently winding its way around his senses. Something fruity. Something raspberry.
She flicked her blonde hair over her shoulder and he got another waft. Shampoo. It must be her shampoo. Rose Huntingdon-Cross was a knockout. And he was in danger of being bitten by her quirky charm. Her words had already captured his attention but the image in front of him and that enticing scent were in danger of doing much more.
He tried to focus. He needed PR for the homeless charity, he needed the rest of the world to understand why people ended up that way and help put in place things to prevent it.
‘What exactly do you mean? Forget about the wedding stuff. Tell me about your PR ideas.’
She wagged her finger at him. ‘Oh, no. Not yet. You have to earn the privilege of my PR expertise. You help me, and I’ll help you.’
What mattered more to him? Giving some crazy recommendations for caterers or wedding cars—or raising the profile of the charity he supported? There was no question. Of course he could do this. It couldn’t possibly take that long. Rose looked like the kind of girl who could make a decision quickly. With wedding planning that was half the battle. Maybe this wouldn’t be as bad as he thought?
She was biting her lip now, obviously worried he wouldn’t agree. Biting a pink, perfectly formed lip. Perfectly formed for kissing. It was the thing that finally tipped him. Rose looked vulnerable. And he was a sucker for damsels in distress. It had got him into a whole lot of trouble in the past and probably would in the future.
His impulses got the better of him. He reached forward and grabbed her hand. ‘Right, you’ve got a deal. Now, let’s go before your parents appear again and give you something else to do.’
‘You’ll help me? Really?’ He could almost hear her sigh of relief. ‘Fabulous!’ She was practically skipping alongside him as they crossed the room.
What on earth was he getting into?
* * *
Her brain was spinning. The guys from Will’s place had packed up her gear in their van. She’d run after her parents and tried to get them to answer a few basic questions—like a date. But that had been fruitless. Apparently everything was up to her. They just wanted to decide on the guests.
The journey in the car to Will’s place had been brief while she’d scribbled frantic notes in her handy black planner. She didn’t go anywhere without that baby. He’d spent most of his time on the phone talking business. Then they’d turned down a country road that seemed to go on and on for ever.
Then, all of a sudden they were driving alongside a dark blue lake with an island in the middle, all sitting in front of a huge country house. The driver pulled up outside and she turned to him as he pushed his phone back into his pocket.
‘You own a lake? And an island?’ Her jaw was practically bouncing off her knees. Rose had been lucky. She’d had a privileged background. She was used to country mansions and houses costing millions. Seb’s castle had just about topped everything. But this place?
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