A Bride for the Runaway Groom

by Wilson, Scarlet

  All she could see in this dim light was the dark blue rim around his eyes. The thing that she’d first noticed about him. The thing that had drawn her in and made her heart do that first little flip-flop.

  There were no alarm bells ringing. No ‘do this and you’ll regret it’ voices screaming in her head. Maybe, for the first time ever, she was really ready to take a chance on love?

  His lips made contact with hers. It was the briefest of kisses. The warmest of kisses. Telling her everything she wanted to know and sending signals that her body was screaming for.

  She couldn’t walk away from Will right now if she tried.

  So she stayed there, with Will’s broad arms wrapped around her, sending a little heat into her numb bum and chilled bones. It felt right. It felt secure. It felt as if this was the place she was supposed to be.

  Part of her brain kept ticking. She’d need to come clean with Violet. And Daisy. She’d need to tell her sisters how she really felt. All of this wasn’t true until she’d done that. Her family were so important to her. But she would wait. She would wait until after the whole PR announcement tomorrow and the wedding renewal.

  It would give her a little time—a little space to have confidence to trust her instincts once again.

  Nothing would happen before that—surely?

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  HER EYES FLICKERED OPEN. She could hear Will’s breathing next to her, feel the rise and fall of his chest against her back. His arm was curled around her. Waking up next to Will this time was an entirely different sensation.

  Her eyes wandered to the clock and widened in shock. It was nearly midday. Will had booked them into a boutique hotel in the West End of London. When they’d finished their night on the street she’d been utterly exhausted. The journalist had been waiting for Will and he’d done a short interview without letting go of her hand. Then he’d brought her to this hotel and done a whole lot more before they’d finally fallen asleep.

  Her heart started thudding against her chest. There was a host of further interviews later today, then the TV show tonight with the reveal of the winning dare. She’d promised she’d be there. But right now she had to get home and do some work on her mother’s bangle. Time was running out. She didn’t just have commitments to Will to fulfil—she’d commitments to her family.

  Especially now. Especially after what had just happened between them. She needed to talk to Violet sooner rather than later.

  In a familiar motion she slipped out from under the covers. Her clothes were lying across the floor and she picked them up and slipped them back on. She should wake him. She really should. But he’d been every bit as exhausted as she’d been. She could let him sleep and order him breakfast in an hour or so. That way she’d have time to get across London and put in a few hours’ work on the bangle before she had to get back for the TV show. If she woke him now he might try and distract her. And it was likely that she wouldn’t say no.

  She grabbed her phone. Out of charge and she’d forgotten to bring her charger—typical. She bent over the bed and laid a gentle kiss on his forehead. He didn’t even flicker. Just kept breathing deeply. So she smiled and slipped out of the door, remembering exactly what had happened earlier that morning on her trip back across London.

  * * *

  Something wasn’t right. The space in the bed next to him wasn’t filled with a warm, comfortable body. There was just a little divot in the bed where that warm body should be.

  Will’s eyes flickered open, first to the space beside him, then to the bathroom door. Every part of his body was coiled up right now, hoping that any second there would be a flush, a sound of running water and Rose would walk out of the door. But everything was silent.

  The knock at the door nearly gave him heart failure and sent him bolt upright in bed. The door opened with a member of the staff carrying a tray that he set next to the bed. ‘Breakfast for you, Mr Carter.’

  ‘I didn’t order breakfast.’ His stomach grumbled loudly as if it were part of the bad joke.

  The staff member gave a nervous smile. ‘The young lady ordered it for you.’

  Will flung the cover back and went to stand up—right until he realised he wasn’t wearing anything. The poor guy was already walking backwards to the door. He covered himself quickly. ‘The young lady? Where is she?’

  The guy couldn’t get out of the room quickly enough. ‘I think she left, sir,’ he said as he pulled the door closed behind him. The smell of bacon, eggs and coffee filled the room as Will sagged back on the bed.

  She’d left? Why on earth would she leave after the morning they’d had together? Will’s stomach curled. Had he misread the signals? Had he misread Rose completely?

  He grabbed his phone and dialled her number. Straight to voicemail. He sent a text. Delivered. He held the phone in his hand for a few minutes, willing her to reply. Nothing.

  This couldn’t be happening. Why on earth would Rose send him up breakfast but leave without saying goodbye—or, worse, without leaving a message? He looked around for pen and paper. But there was nothing obvious.

  He pushed the breakfast tray away. He couldn’t stomach anything right now. Not while everything he’d wished for was hanging in the air. His phone beeped and he jumped. But it wasn’t a message. It was a reminder that the TV studio car would be picking him up in an hour. He wasn’t on until six that night but they wanted to rehearse and since the whole show was about him and his charity he could hardly let them down.

  Clothes. He needed new clothes. His fingers were still clenched around his phone, rapidly turning white. Rose would have to wait until later.

  * * *

  She was out of breath and cursing herself like mad.

  ‘What’s the name?’ The guy at the front desk looked distinctly uninterested.

  ‘Rose Huntingdon-Cross.’

  He gave a cursory glance at the list and shook his head. ‘Not on it.’

  ‘What do you mean I’m not on it? I’m the one that arranged the interview.’

  The guy almost sneered. ‘You’re not on the list.’

  She could feel the pressure building in her chest and resisted the urge to grab the guy by the nape of the neck and drag him across the desk. She’d never use the ‘Do you know who I am?’ card but she hated ineptitude.

  She folded her arms across her chest. ‘I’m here for Paul Scholand’s interview with Will Carter—you know, the Runaway Groom? I can give you the name of each and every one of his fiancées that must have checked in with you by now.’

  The guy didn’t even blink. ‘Not on the list,’ he said again. It was almost like a challenge.

  She took a deep breath. ‘Why don’t you check under Cross? People often list my surname wrongly.’

  His eyes went reluctantly to the page again and he blinked. ‘Hmm. Cross by name, cross by nature?’ he said in a sing-song voice. She really could pull him across the desk and thump him.

  ‘You bet,’ was her reply.

  He gestured with his hand, waving her in, and she strode past without a second glance.

  Once she was through she found the studio no problem. Paul Scholand had been interviewing out of the same studio for the last five years and Rose had been there on a number of occasions with the band—in fact, she was due back in another month.

  But today was a bit different. The studio was normally always slick and smooth but with four extra women, who for reasons unknown to Rose seemed to be being kept apart, along with Will—who seemed to be being kept apart from everyone—the studio runners and assistants seemed harassed to death.

  This thing had just taken root and sprouted into a complete forest. One she wasn’t even sure she wanted to enter. She gulped. If this was how she was feeling—how on earth must Will be feeling?

  She reached into her pocket. N
othing. Then remembered she hadn’t even charged her phone from this morning. Darn it. Things had got a bit fraught when she was in her workshop. There had been problems with one of the kinds of gold. She was going to have to get more and it would take more than a day to arrive. All cutting into her time to work and make the bangle on time. It was her own fault. She’d been distracted when she’d started work and not totally focused on the job. Under normal circumstances she would have noticed a problem with the gold straight away. But no. She was too busy dreaming of the feel of Will’s hands on her skin and his lips coming into contact with that sensitive area at the bottom of her neck.

  Her hand automatically lifted to the area. Whenever she thought of him her skin tingled.

  She looked around, trying to see him through the crowded studio. Her eyes locked on another set that was watching her carefully. Angie—one of Will’s ex-fiancées.

  Her feet hesitated for a second before she put a smile on her face and walked over, holding her hand out. ‘Angie, it’s so nice to meet you. Thank you for doing this. The phone lines are doing brilliantly. We’re raising lots of money for the charity.’

  Angie gave a controlled nod of her head. She was in the middle of getting her hair and make-up done. ‘That’s really good to know. I’m glad it’s going well.’

  Rose felt something creep up her spine. Angie was being very reserved. Had she done something to offend her?

  ‘And thank you so much for putting me in touch with Deb. Her cakes are to die for. It was a real weight off my mind.’

  As if on cue Angie pushed forward a plastic tub towards Rose. ‘Deb sent something else for you to try. This is chocolate and hazelnut sponge. She wondered if you wanted some extra cupcakes for later?’

  Rose picked up the tub straight away. She couldn’t wait to try it. ‘Oh, thank you, this is great. I’ll give her a call later.’

  Angie glanced sideways, as if to check to make sure no one else was listening. ‘Be careful,’ she said in a low voice. ‘You’ve got that glow about you, Rose. Believe me, it can fade quickly. You’re a nice girl.’

  Rose opened her mouth to deny everything but the studio hairdresser had appeared again and was fussing around Angie. She walked away with her mouth hanging open. Angie could tell just by looking at her? How was that even possible? Nothing had happened until this morning. Up until then it had only been a few kisses. Nothing of any significance. And if she kept saying that she might actually believe it.

  Will was at the other side of the studio with Paul Scholand. She lifted her hand to give him a wave and he wrinkled his brow, as if he was trying to work out who it was. She was forgetting. The studio lights were directly in his eyes.

  She wandered closer. Round the back of the cameras and right round to the other side of the studio.

  ‘You,’ came the voice behind her. She spun on her heels and pulled the plastic tub a little closer, as if it were some kind of shield. Melissa Kirkwood had that kind of effect on people. This was a woman that certainly hadn’t got over the Runaway Groom. She was the one who’d suggested dunking Will in the Thames.

  ‘What can I do for you, Melissa?’ Rose tried her sweetest voice. She’d no intention of doing anything for Melissa; she already couldn’t wait to get away from her.

  Melissa folded her arms across her ample chest. She was wearing a bright pink dress with a slash right down the front. One of the studio hairdressers was behind her, teasing her hair into waves. Melissa had obviously decided there was no need to be as discreet as Angie.

  ‘So are you floating on a cloud right now? Thinking that Will could never look at another woman the way he looks at you? Has he told you that he loves you yet?’ she sneered. ‘Because we’ve all been there, honey. Don’t think you’re special.’

  It was like having someone tip a whole bucket of ice over your head.

  What was it with these women? Did she have a neon sign above her head?

  ‘I have no idea what you’re talking about,’ she said quickly.

  ‘Sure, honey, that’s what they all say before the engagement ring appears, then your groom races down the aisle like he’s being chased by killer zombies. It’s written all over your face. You’re just the next sucker in line.’

  She could feel the colour rush up into her cheeks. Two ex-fiancées in almost the same number of minutes accusing her of the same thing. Was there a camera in the hotel room this morning? Last thing she wanted was to end up part of a sex-tape scandal like her sister.

  She turned and walked away from Melissa. She’d already heard enough.

  Will was standing at the edge of the set now while one of the make-up girls dusted some powder on his face. She was batting her eyelids and talking incessantly, but his gaze came into direct contact with Rose’s.

  It only took two strides to cross the space. ‘Where did you go? I called you. Why didn’t you call me back?’

  Rose hesitated; her cheeks were still flushed from the comments from Angie and Melissa. She hated that people seemed to be able to read her so easily—particularly when she hadn’t even had a chance to speak to her sisters. Was she really ready for this?

  Her hesitation caused something to sweep over Will’s face. He looked hurt. Even a little angry.

  Paul Scholand was on his feet. ‘Are you ready, Will? It’s time for the countdown.’

  Will nodded. ‘Wait here,’ he said quickly to her, shooting her a glance that made her insides curl up.

  Everything about her felt in flux. She wanted to tell him the truth. She was confused. She needed time to think. She needed time to talk to her family. Last night and this morning had been great. She’d almost been convinced that he meant everything that he’d said.

  But being here, in amongst the women he’d ‘loved’ before, was overwhelming. Words that he’d never said to her. She felt crowded—swamped. She felt as if there weren’t enough room in the building for her own feelings while there was a huge rush of female hormones everywhere else. How on earth could she know how Will really felt about her here and now? This had disaster written all over it.

  * * *

  Will could feel the claustrophobia in the room. None of this was good. Paul kept looking at him reassuringly and patting him on the knee. He must sense that Will really just wanted to bolt from the studio.

  The cameraman gave the signal and the theme tune started reverberating around the studio. On the other side of the studio, his four exes were being lined up on a curved sofa. He winced. Some of them had exchanged words in the past. He just hoped the studio had prepared for this adequately.

  No matter how much he squinted at the spotlights he couldn’t see Rose. All he’d felt from her was an overwhelming sense of panic. She’d left this morning as if she’d had second thoughts. She hadn’t responded to any of his messages. And for the first time ever Will felt as if the shoe was on the other foot. He wanted Rose to feel the same as he did. He needed Rose to feel the same way he did.

  Otherwise all his plans would be for nothing and he was about to make an even bigger fool of himself than normal.

  Paul was talking now, playing the audience a clip showing each of his ex-fiancées talking about choosing their dare for him.

  He looked at the four women. At one point he’d loved every one of them. At least he’d thought he had. He recognised it now as infatuation.

  Nothing like what he felt for Rose. She was his first thought in the morning and his last thought at night. He’d seen her vulnerability last night. He’d wanted to do everything he could to protect the woman that he loved.

  He wasn’t running scared from Rose. Just the opposite. He was running towards her so quickly he was afraid he’d scare her off.

  What if he’d misjudged the situation completely and she really didn’t want to take things that far? All he knew was it was so important to him to show her t
hat she was different. That she was The One. To show her he wasn’t the Runaway Groom any more.

  Paul touched his arm. ‘Are you ready for the final figure?’

  Will blinked. He hadn’t been paying the slightest bit of attention.

  Paul was still smiling his perfect TV smile. ‘Would you like to give the audience a little insight into why this charity is so important to you?’

  Focus. Will nodded. This was the important bit. ‘The charity is so important to me because I’ve had a friend affected by homelessness. There are a lot of misconceptions about people who live on the streets. Not all are drug addicts or alcoholics. Not all have been in trouble with the police. My friend hadn’t done anything wrong, but because of the economic downturn his company went out of business. As a result he lost his home. He couldn’t apply for jobs because he didn’t have a permanent address. He didn’t have family to turn to. He was embarrassed to tell his friends. I only found out after he was stabbed on the streets one night and the police contacted me because they found my card amongst his things. I want people to understand that there are a whole host of reasons people end up on the streets and there are lots of things we can do to help prevent it. Find out where your nearest shelter is. See what you can do to help. It doesn’t have to be a lot. It can be donating clothes, donating food. It can be helping out in the kitchen. It can be helping people learn new skills.’

  Paul nodded solemnly and turned to the camera. ‘The votes have now closed. We’re just about to find out how much money has been raised for charity. Ladies, are you ready?’

  The camera panned along the four women with smiles on their faces. This was so not Will’s idea of a good time. But if it got the message across he really didn’t care.

  ‘Is there any particular dare you’d like to avoid, Will?’

  He shook his head. ‘Paul, I’m willing to do whatever the public voted on no matter how humiliating it is. I just want to thank each and every person who picked up the phone and voted, contributing to the fund.’ He put his hand on his chest. ‘Thank you all from the bottom of my heart.’