A Bride for the Runaway Groom

by Wilson, Scarlet

  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?

  Wow. The house might not be so big. But the amount of land was enormous. Will Carter was sitting on a gold mine.

  ‘You like?’ He was smiling at her amazed expression as she climbed out of the car.

  The wind had picked up a little and was making her dress flap around her. She stepped around the car and walked towards the lake. There was a wooden jetty with two expensive boats sitting next to it.

  She shook her head. ‘Violet never mentioned a lake, or an island.’ She thought she knew her sister well. This was definitely the kind of thing she would normally mention.

  Will walked up behind her, blocking the wind. Her first thought was relief. Her next was how close he was standing. The soft cotton of his T-shirt was brushing against her shoulder blades.

  In any other set of circumstances she would step away. But for the first time in a long time, she didn’t feel like that. She was comfortable around Will. They might have got off to a bad start but there was something safe about him. It didn’t help that the driver had just magically disappeared.

  And it was easier to think safe than sexy. Because that was the other thought circulating around in her brain.

  Will Carter was more than a little handsome. He was tongue-hanging-out, drip-your-food-down-your-dress handsome.

  ‘Violet was never that interested in the lake or the island. She wouldn’t even let me take her over in the boat.’ His deep voice, right next to her ear, made her start.

  ‘Oh, sorry. Did I give you a fright?’ His arm slid naturally to her hip, to stop her from swaying. And she didn’t mind it there. She naturally turned her head towards his and gave her full attention to the dark blue rim around his paler blue eyes. It was unusual. It was almost mesmerising.

  ‘No,’ she murmured, giving the slightest shake of her head.

  This was freaking her out. She could feel her heart miss a few beats as she made the association. Last time she’d paid this much attention to a man had been over three years ago.

  Three years ago and a party. A party where she’d left her friend to her own devices—because she’d been distracted by that man. Her friend had made some bad decisions that night and paid the ultimate price. And Rose had spent the last three years in New York to get away from the fallout.

  She’d still spoken to her sisters every day and had been back in England every year for their father’s annual rock concert, but she just hadn’t stayed for long. It was easier to avoid the same circle of friends and their whispers if you weren’t there to notice them.

  But things were changing. It was looking as though a move back to England was on the cards. The European tour would need her close at hand. It would be just as easy to do the rest of her work here as in New York. The annual rock concert was due to take place soon and as long as she had equipment she could make her wedding jewellery anywhere.

  ‘Rose?’

  Will reached over and slid his hand in hers. ‘Come on, I’ll take you over to the island.’

  He gave her hand a little tug. Oh, no. There was a warm feeling
racing up her arm, making her heart rate do strange things. Pitter-pattering and electric shock kind of things.

  She was trying to be cool. She was trying so hard to be cool. But his touch brought a natural smile to her face. She couldn’t stop the little edges of her mouth turning upwards. ‘Sure,’ she said as he pulled her towards the boat.

  It was one of two moored on a little wooden jetty and it certainly wasn’t your old-fashioned rowing boat. It was white and sleek with a small compact engine on the back.

  He jumped down and held out his hand towards her as the boat wobbled on the rippling surface of the water.

  She leaned forward and hesitated a little. The step to the boat was a little broader than normal; chances were she would have to pull up her dress to make it across.

  But it was almost as if Will read her mind. He reached forward with his long arms, circled her waist and lifted her across. He did it so quickly she didn’t even have time to think. Her feet touched the base of the boat as the momentum made it sway a little more.

  ‘Sorry.’ He smiled. ‘Forgot about your dress. Don’t want to get a glimpse of anything I shouldn’t.’ He had that twinkle in his eye again—knowing full well he’d more or less glimpsed the full package this morning. As had she.

  She sat down on one of the comfortable leather seats in the boat and shook her head. ‘My grandmother would love you—but you’re just full of it, aren’t you? I often wondered if Mr Charming might be a journalist’s daydream. I always wondered how you managed to stay on the good side of the media. But you’re just every mother’s dream, aren’t you?’

  He started the engine and laughed. ‘I think I can name at least four mothers who don’t like me that much at all.’

  The boat moved easily across the peaceful lake. It really was perfect. A few swans were gathered at the other side and a few ducks squawked from the edges amongst the reeds.

  Rose couldn’t help but shake her head. ‘I don’t get it. I just don’t. You must have known you didn’t want to marry those girls. Why on earth would you leave it to the last minute? Who does that?’

  He sat down next to her as he steered the boat. He wasn’t as defensive as before. Maybe because they’d been around each other a bit longer. He’d seen the fix her parents had just left her with.

  He sighed as the boat chugged across the water. ‘I know. It’s awful. And I don’t mean to—I never do. And, to be fair, I’ve had bad press. I’ve only actually done it on the day once. It’s just much more fun for the press to label me the Runaway Groom on every occasion. My problem is I always start to have doubts. Doubts that you can’t say out loud without hurting the person you’re with. The would-she-still-love-me-if-I’m-bankrupt? kind of doubts. Then, you start planning the wedding and the lovely woman you’ve fallen in love with is replaced by a raging, seething perfectionist.’

  Rose laughed. ‘What’s wrong with that? Doesn’t every bride want her day to be perfect? And don’t most people have a few doubts in the lead-up to a wedding?’

  But Will looked sad. ‘But why does it all have to be about the details? Shouldn’t it just be about two people in love getting married? Why does the wedding planning always turn into “this wedding has to be better than such and such’s wedding”? I hate that.’

  The words sent a little chill over her skin. He was right. More than he could ever know. She couldn’t believe that the man the press called the Runaway Groom actually felt the same way she did.

  ‘Why do you have doubts?’ she asked quickly.

  He paused and shrugged his shoulders. ‘I’m not always sure. What I can tell you is that I don’t regret calling off any of my weddings. I just regret the one time of being an actual runaway groom. At least two of my exes have since agreed that we should never have got married. They’ve met their perfect person and are happy now.’

  Rose gave a sad kind of smile. ‘Not every wedding is a disaster. Some couples are meant to be together. Daisy’s wedding was fast, but she did plan everything she wanted. I might have been in New York but she emailed every day.’ The island was getting closer, giving little hints of what lay beneath the copse of trees. She gave a little shudder. ‘I’m not a fan of big weddings. I like small things. And I like the idea of two people, alone, agreeing to spend the rest of their lives together. Let’s face it. That’s what it’s all about.’ She smiled at Will. ‘Just as well I’m not the bride. If it was a big, flamboyant wedding maybe I would steal your thunder and be the Runaway Bride?’

  He leaned back a little in the boat as they neared the island’s jetty. ‘Really? A woman that wants a quiet wedding? Even after all the splendour of Daisy’s?’ He raised his eyebrows in disbelief. ‘You don’t want a little of that for yourself?’

  ‘Absolutely not.’ Her answer was definite.

  He paused for a second. ‘It really wasn’t about the weddings. It was about the relationships. Once the initial happy buzz of being engaged vanished I started trying to picture myself growing old with that person. And no matter how hard I tried, I could never see it. I realised I didn’t love them the way I should. The way a husband should love a wife—like your mum and dad.’ He was gazing off onto the island and he suddenly realised what he’d said. Will Carter had probably revealed much more than he wanted to. He gave a little start and tried to change the subject quickly. ‘Anyway, I don’t believe you. I bet you want the big wedding just like every other girl.’

  He stood up as the boat bumped the jetty and tied the mooring line securely. He jumped onto the wooden platform and she held out her hand to his. But Will seemed to think they’d set a precedent. He reached both arms down and caught her around the waist, lifting her up alongside him.

  Her feet connected with the wooden structure but his hands didn’t move from her waist. She was facing his chest, his head just above hers. Her hands lifted naturally to rest on his muscled biceps. The only noise was the quacking ducks and rippling water. She’d seen a little glimpse of the real Will Carter. Not the one in the media. Not Mr Charming. And she actually liked it. She would never admit it to anyone but he intrigued her. She smiled. ‘No, I don’t want any of that. What’s more, I bet I could outrun you, Will Carter.’ Her voice was quiet, almost a whisper. It was just the two of them. And their position was so close it seemed almost intimate. She could feel his fingers spread a little on her waist—as if he were expanding his grip to stop her getting away.

  The perfect smile appeared, quickly followed by his dimple. It was all she could do not to reach out and touch it. ‘The Runaway Bride and the Runaway Groom? We could be quite a pair.’ He left his words hanging in the air. Leaving them both to contemplate them.

  Her breath was caught in her throat. Never. She was too young. Too stupid. She had too many plans. There was no room for someone like Will Carter in her life right now. Especially when she found it so hard to trust her instincts. Her stomach flipped over. He was joking. They both were. But she couldn’t help but feel a little surge of confidence that he’d even suggested it.

  She stepped back, breathing deeply and breaking the intimate atmosphere between them. ‘What’s on this island anyway?’

  Something flitted across his eyes. Disappointment? She felt a tiny surge of annoyance. She’d no intention of being his next passing fling. He’d already admitted he fell in love too easily. Rose didn’t have that problem. She’d never fallen in love at all.

  Ever the gentleman, he gestured with his hand to the path ahead leading through some trees. She walked ahead of him and looked around. The thick, dark trees were deceiving. They were hiding more than she could ever have imagined.

  Her hand came up to her mouth as they stepped out from the path to a red-brick stone church with a huge stained-glass window.

  ‘A hidden church? You have got to be joking.’

  ‘No.’ He walked over and swung open the thick wooden door, flicking a switc
h. The sun was shining down through the dark copse of trees. The church was tiny, the window almost taking up one whole wall. Only around twenty people could fit in here along the four benches on each side of the aisle.

  The late afternoon sun was streaming through the window, sending a beautiful array of colours lighting up the white walls. There was a dark wooden altar table at the front. Nothing else.

  ‘This place is amazing. You own a church?’

  He nodded. ‘There’s an equally tiny cottage behind the church. Both were ruins when I bought the place. I had the church rebuilt and the stained-glass window put in. The cottage was just refurbished.’

  She spun around in the rainbow of lights. ‘I love this place. What was it originally?’

  ‘No one really knows for sure. I think it was some kind of retreat. There used to be a monastery on these grounds right up until the dissolution of the monasteries in the fifteen-hundreds. This is the only thing that was left.’

  Rose took a deep breath and walked over and touched the white wall. ‘Think of all the history here. Think of all the things that could have happened between these four walls over the centuries.’ She walked over and gently touched one of the pieces of stained red glass as she swept her eyes over the scene in the window. ‘What is this? Was there something like this already here?’

  ‘It’s inspired by Troyes Cathedral in France. They have some of the oldest medieval stained-glass windows. This is two of the prophets, Moses and David.’ He seemed genuinely interested in what he was telling her. It was obvious a lot of thought—and a lot of expense—had gone into the restoration work.

  ‘You should get a grant of approval to do wedding ceremonies here.’