Bride on the Run--A Clean Romance

by Anna J. Stewart

  “I was thinking I could sail with you to Butterfly Harbor...” Sienna still had an ounce of hope.

  Monty didn’t choke. Not exactly. But he did clear his throat and his eyes were dazed. He practically gasped when he blurted, “You want to what?”

  “Just hear me out!” She held up both hands. “I’ve been on boats my whole life. My grandmother taught me so I’d have something in common with my father. Not that that went any... Never mind.”

  She always babbled when she panicked. “I cook pretty well, so we wouldn’t starve and you could eat more than peanut-butter sandwiches. I’ve always felt at home on the water, as if it’s where I belong, and maybe that’s what I need now. Just some time away from...everything. While I figure out what to do. I promise, once we get to Butterfly Harbor, you’ll never see me again.”

  She’d get everything figured out by then.

  She’d have to.

  Dear Reader,

  Monty Bettencourt was a character I knew I would have fun with. From the time we met him in his twin sister Frankie’s story, I was imagining his HEA and who it was going to be with. Even better? I was looking forward to taking Butterfly Harbor on the road! And nothing says the road more than a runaway bride.

  So what did I know about Sienna Fairchild when the story began? Not much other than the fact she most definitely does not want to get married. But what does she want? Even she doesn’t know. Thanks to a man who doesn’t judge but gently guides, and a cranky, determined parrot with a penchant for singing, she may find out.

  With every one of these books, I’ve tried to do something different, especially with my characters. And as readers of this series know, people always find their hearts in Butterfly Harbor.

  I hope you enjoy this visit to my small West Coast town. You’ll see familiar faces and meet new ones, and if you’re like me, by the end you’re going to be wondering if maybe owning a parrot wouldn’t be such a bad idea!

  Anna

  Bride on the Run

  Anna J. Stewart

  Bestselling author Anna J. Stewart is living her dream writing romances for Harlequin’s Romantic Suspense and Heartwarming lines. In between bouts of binge-watching her favorite TV shows and movies, she puts fingers to keyboard and loses herself in endless stories of happily-ever-after. Anna lives in Northern California, where she tries to wrangle two rapscallion cats named Rosie and Sherlock, possibly the most fiendish felines known to humankind.

  Books by Anna J. Stewart

  Harlequin Romantic Suspense

  Honor Bound

  Reunited with the P.I.

  More Than a Lawman

  Gone in the Night

  Guarding His Midnight Witness

  Harlequin Heartwarming

  Return of the Blackwell Brothers

  The Rancher’s Homecoming

  Butterfly Harbor Stories

  Recipe for Redemption

  A Dad for Charlie

  Always the Hero

  Holiday Kisses

  Safe in His Arms

  The Firefighter’s Thanksgiving Wish

  A Match Made Perfect

  Visit the Author Profile page at Harlequin.com for more titles.

  For Marie McLetchie Sarnell

  Cousin, little sister and friend

  Contents

  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

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  EPILOGUE

  EXCERPT FROM THE CHRISTMAS PROMISE BY JANICE CARTER

  CHAPTER ONE

  “WHAT AM I doing getting married?”

  Sienna Fairchild stared at herself in the full-length mirror and wondered if she was real. She pressed damp palms against her colorless cheeks. The neatly arranged cascading raven curls perfectly framed her expertly made-up face. The diamond choker sparkled against her pale throat. The weighty emerald engagement ring that dragged her down like an anchor sparkled against the late afternoon sun. The rays streaming through the bay window of the bridal suite at the San Diego Empire Yacht Club. She’d grown up here, spent countless hours exploring the boats and dock where first her grandmother and then Vincent Fairchild, Sienna’s father, had served as president.

  “Nana, where are you when I need you?” Tears of grief stung the back of her throat. It had been two months since her grandmother had died; two months that had passed excruciatingly slow and yet flashed by in the blink of an eye ever since Richard Somersby had proposed.

  Richard Somersby, her father’s latest business partner, and someone who could ensure the Fairchild fortune for generations to come, should have been a dream come true. Handsome, wealthy, charming. Oh, so charming. Too charming? Sienna frowned.

  Richard had turned his attention on Sienna the instant he’d seen her at her father’s birthday party, which had happened not long after her grandmother’s funeral. Richard had been exciting and different and...her head had spun, given his interest, and her normally distant father had been thrilled.

  She had most definitely been charmed. She’d also been neck-deep in sleepless grief over having lost the only parental figure she’d really had growing up.

  Winnifred Fairchild, teenage bride, WWII factory worker, former CEO of Fairchild International, mother of four sons, only two of whom had lived past childhood, would have moved heaven and earth for Sienna; had moved it, in some respects. Before Winnie’s death, Sienna’s father never would have considered pushing Sienna into marriage, let alone into one that would solidify his business connections.

  Nana never would have allowed it unless she was convinced it was what Sienna wanted.

  It had been what she’d wanted, Sienna thought now. At least it had been until fifteen minutes ago, when she’d looked at herself in the mirror.

  And didn’t see a trace of herself.

  “I need help, Nana.” The whispered plea echoed in the empty room, against the brocade curtains, the striped gold wallpaper and the silver tray that housed a champagne bucket and glasses. The one-of-a-kind designer gown felt like a straitjacket despite the strapless corset top. The sweeping, elegant tulle skirt with satin lining brushed against the floor. Embroidery, beads, rhinestones and appliqué added intricate patterns of perfection any bride would be thrilled with. Yet all Sienna could hear, even above the lapping waves of the marina and the cries of seagulls, was her panicked breathing and the voice screaming in her head that something wasn’t right.

  She gripped her skirt in her fists and moved to the French doors overlooking the marina. The ocean. Peace instantly settled over her; the water always had provided solace. It had been her grandmother’s coping mechanism, as well, one Winnie had embraced fully a few years before when she’d purchased a cozy home on the beach less than ten miles from where Sienna currently stood—a house Sienna was poised to inherit now that Winnie had died.

  “What are you doing?” Tabitha, her cousin and maid of honor, rushed into the room. Her expression was frantic, her long blond locks solidified with enough hair product to supply a salon. “Let go of your dress! It’s getting wrinkled. You have pictures in less than fifteen minutes.”
She slapped at Sienna’s hands, kneeled down and smoothed the expensive material. “There. It’s okay.” Tabitha let out a long, relieved breath. “I don’t think we need to steam it again.”

  “I can’t do this.” The words were barely a whisper. Sienna cleared her throat. “I can’t marry Richard.”

  “Don’t be silly—of course you can.” Tabitha stood and flipped a curl behind Sienna’s shoulder. “Richard’s a woman’s dream come true. It’s last-minute jitters.” But Tabitha didn’t meet her gaze. If anything, she seemed to be purposely avoiding it.

  “I don’t know him.” Not the real him, Sienna thought. Oh, he was a pretty enough picture and well established in the financial world, but what were his dreams? His ambitions? And he’d never asked about her dreams, her plans. Her...

  “What’s to know?” Tabitha asked. “He’s crazy about you and he can pay for anything you ever want or need.” Tabitha turned critical, almost accusing eyes on her.

  Sienna swallowed hard. She saw it, a moment before Tabitha covered it, but it was there. A momentary flash of envy. “Now.” Tabitha nodded. “Let’s head downstairs. Richard and his groomsmen are finishing up with the photographer. We’re up next.”

  The roar in Sienna’s ears intensified as Tabitha pushed the bouquet of red and white roses into her hands. She followed her cousin out of the room to the winding staircase and thought this had to be what an out-of-body experience felt like.

  “I’m going to go get the others,” Tabitha told her, referring to Sienna’s bridesmaids. Tabitha took Sienna’s arms and planted her in an alcove at the bottom of the stairs. She fluffed up the veil a bit, tsked a few times, then smiled. “Don’t move. We’ll all be right back.”

  Tabitha disappeared in a flash of bloodred, a fitting color for the attendants’ A-line gowns, Sienna thought against the giggle of hysteria that bubbled up. This was it. The first day of the rest of her life. Married to a successful man, a man whose parties and appearances and professional successes would soon be hers, while her own dreams...

  Every ounce of warmth drained out of Sienna’s body. Her own dreams, whatever they were, would wither and die, forever unrealized and unachieved, because she’d been so determined to fulfill the only request her father had ever made of her.

  She shouldn’t have waited so long to listen to the doubts. She should have confided in one or more of her friends, asked for their advice, but they were all so busy with their own lives, their own relationships and jobs. She didn’t want to bother them with something she should be able to work out for herself.

  A cool breeze drifted in through the side door. The early spring rainstorm that had crossed through the area last night had long since moved on, leaving in its wake the promise of blue skies and crisp, refreshing days. The sunshine beckoned her, like a beacon of escape she only now realized was within reach.

  She walked to the door, set the bouquet on the nearby table and pulled off her veil.

  It drifted to the floor as she stepped outside.

  She took a deep breath. Held it. Released it. The belt of panic that had been tightening around her loosened. It continued to ease with each step she took away from the club. Her spiked heels clicked on the cement stairs she descended. Bending down, she caught huge wads of fabric in her hands and hiked up her dress, walking quickly along the stone path to the marina entrance. She welcomed the warmth of the sun beating down on her.

  Sienna surrendered to instinct. She’d practically grown up at the club, where her father had been president for most of her childhood. The boats were all different, of course, but they were also the same. She had no idea where she was going or what she was going to do when she got there. But she most definitely was not going to get married. Not now. Maybe not ever.

  There was commotion behind her and it caused her to pick up her pace. She couldn’t be certain it had anything to do with her, of course. But the sooner she got out of sight and took some time to decide what came next, the better.

  Except no boat felt right. Every schooner, yacht or cruiser she eyed had her scrambling onward. Her heel caught between two planks. Foot stuck, she pitched forward and cried out, landing awkwardly. Probably looking like a marshmallow factory that had exploded, she pushed herself up and shoved her hair out of her face. She twisted around to pull her foot free from her shoe, but froze, blinking at the fiberglass boat right in front of her.

  Nana’s Dream.

  Her stomach clenched. More cries and calls and shouts came from the direction of the club. Her pulse kicked into top speed. She finally yanked out the shoe from between the planks and practically dived onto the boat. She scrambled across the deck toward the open hatch, her dress billowing around her.

  Once inside, she stopped. A time warp to the eighties? Dark painted wood paneling, hideous pastel floral-print cushions on the bench seats and nautical-themed drapes over the lone grimy window.

  Boy, did this boat need some TLC ASAP.

  She bunched up her dress and squeezed past the galley kitchen, then began pulling open doors. She heard distinct and all-too-familiar voices shouting from the dock, including her father’s loud baritone.

  Expecting a bathroom behind the next door, she ended up wedging herself into a narrow closet where old fishing rods and gear were stored. It also had one shelf. With a fast sweep of her arm, she cleared it. After tucking the dress up and around her, she hoisted herself up, reached out and pulled the door closed.

  Only then did she realize she’d lost her shoe.

  * * *

  DUFFEL SLUNG OVER his shoulder, grocery bag in the other hand, Monty Bettencourt whistled his way down the path toward the marina that housed Nana’s Dream.

  It had taken him three months of negotiating the price to something he could afford—barely—but the extra hassle had been worth it. This latest acquisition to his expanding fleet for Wind Walkers Tours would be the perfect honeymoon rental once he knocked some shape into it. He could also book it out for a college-buddies’ reunion or moms’ getaway. It would take time, and a boatload of cash he no longer had, but eventually she’d shine.

  His cell phone buzzed in his pocket. Even before he pulled it free, he knew who was calling. He stopped, setting down the bag. “What now, Frankie?”

  “Foregoing the pleasantries, are we?” His twin sister’s borderline-uptight voice didn’t even register on his freaking-out meter.

  “I’m saving time.” He looked over his shoulder as a group of men about his age stampeded out of the yacht club and split off like struck tuxedoed pool balls. Now they were uptight. “What did Ezzie do this time?”

  “Nothing horrible. To me, anyway.” Frankie’s voice softened when talking about her soon-to-be mother-in-law. “I know she means well, I really do, but you need to get back here. She’s trying to plan Roman’s bachelor party!”

  Monty dodged to one side to avoid a racing groomsman. “No fair. As best man, that’s my territory.” After discussing said event with his future brother-in-law, he’d planned an early morning, catered fishing-trip excursion.

  “That’s what I told her. When are you getting back?”

  “Not for a few days at least.” Nana’s Dream couldn’t cope with a fast dash up the coast; he was cautiously optimistic the engine would hold out long enough to get him back to Butterfly Harbor in central California. He’d figured four, maybe five days tops if he could give the engine a significant nightly break. Parts for a boat this age weren’t easy to come by, so he needed to preserve this engine long enough to replace it. “You want me to call Ezzie?”

  “Just to remind her this is your thing. Roman’s horrified at the idea of his mother planning his party. It could scar him for the honeymoon.”

  “We wouldn’t want that.” Monty had to bite his cheek to stop from laughing. It was two weeks until Fire Chief Frankie Bettencourt married her co-chief, Roman Salazar, in what was sure to be one of Bu
tterfly Harbor’s biggest social events of the year. He couldn’t think of anyone in town they hadn’t invited—or who hadn’t invited themselves. One could only hope Skipper Park was large enough to accommodate everyone. “I’ll give her a ring before I cast off.” Cell reception was notoriously horrible out on the water. All this wedding talk was making him strangely sentimental. Watching Frankie and Roman together had made him think about his own future and whether he was going to continue as he was, alone but not lonely, or jump deeper into the dating pool. “And I’ll keep your name out of the conversation, don’t worry.” No use getting Frankie into trouble this close to her wedding day.

  “Thank you. All finally good with Dream?”

  “Paperwork and licensing finalized this morning. She’s officially ours.”

  Since she was one of his business partners, he kept Frankie abreast of his acquisitions, but when it had come to Nana’s Dream, she’d been adamant he buy her. Too bad he couldn’t get the boat in running shape before his sister’s honeymoon. Then again... Monty shuddered. He really didn’t want to think about that aspect of his sister’s life.

  Back at the club he saw four women emerge, each wearing various styles of a red gown and flailing about with bouquets as they looked in every direction for something they clearly weren’t finding.

  “I gotta go, Frankie.” More people, presumably wedding guests, began flooding outside, all of them looking equally surprised and put out. “I think there’s a scandal erupting at the yacht club.”

  “Safe trip home. Don’t rush.” She hesitated. “But don’t take too long.”

  “Noted. Talk later.” He hung up, picked up his bag and pushed through the waist-high metal gate to the docks. “What’s going on?” he called to one of the men speeding toward him.

  The man, a good three inches taller than Monty’s six feet, but about thirty pounds slimmer, skidded to a halt. A white-rose boutonniere hung limply against the lapel of his tux, and the spinning dismay in the man’s eyes told Monty everything he needed to know. “Have you seen a young woman? Dark hair. Wedding dress. Anywhere around here?”