Her Wildest Wedding Dreams

“You’re awfully flippant with your boss,”

Noah said. “I could fire you.”

“You don’t scare me,” Olivia replied.

“Really?” Noah leaned in closer, irresistibly drawn by her saucy grin. “And why is that?”

“If you were as mean as you want me to think you are, you never would have come back for me at that bus station.”

He wondered what she would say if she knew it had not been only kindness that had caused him to extend his help. More important, however, he wondered what she would do if he tasted that rosebud of a mouth she was lifting toward his.

“I’m not really so nice,” he murmured.

Her eyes had gone all soft. “I think you are nice. Very nice.”

He kissed her then, before he could come to his senses. He kissed her, even as he was damning his foolishness to hell.

Dear Reader,

With spring in the air, there’s no better way to herald the season and continue to celebrate Silhouette’s 20th Anniversary year than with an exhilarating month of romance from Special Edition!

Kicking off a great lineup is Beginning with Baby, a heartwarming THAT’S MY BABY! story by rising star Christie Ridgway. Longtime Special Edition favorite Susan Mallery turns up the heat in The Sheik’s Kidnapped Bride, the first book in her new DESERT ROGUES series. And popular author Laurie Paige wraps up the SO MANY BABIES miniseries with Make Way for Babies!, a poignant reunion romance in which a set of newborn twins unwittingly plays Cupid!

Beloved author Gina Wilkins weaves a sensuous modern love story about two career-minded people who are unexpectedly swept away by desire in Surprise Partners. In Her Wildest Wedding Dreams from veteran author Celeste Hamilton, a sheltered woman finds the passion of a lifetime in a rugged rancher’s arms. And finally, Carol Finch brings every woman’s fantasy to life with an irresistible millionaire hero in her compelling novel Soul Mates.

It’s a gripping month of reading in Special Edition. Enjoy!

All the best,

Karen Taylor Richman

Senior Editor

Her Wildest Wedding Dreams

Celeste Hamilton

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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For “The Loop”: Marcy Froemke, Faith Garner, Janice Maynard, Jan McDaniel, Lurlene McDaniel, Leigh Neely, Susan Sawyer and Clara Wimberly. For reasons they understand.

Books by Celeste Hamilton

Silhouette Special Edition

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Silent Partner #447

A Fine Spring Rain #503

Face Value #532

No Place To Hide #620

Don’t Look Back #690

Baby, It’s You #708

Single Father #738

Father Figure #779

Child of Dreams #827

Sally Jane Got Married #865

Which Way Is Home? #897

A Family Home #938

The Daddy Quest #994

Marry Me in Amarillo #1091

Honeymoon Ranch #1158

A Father for Her Baby #1237

Her Wildest Wedding Dreams #1319

Silhouette Desire

*The Diamond’s Sparkle #537

*Ruby Fire #549

*The Hidden Pearl #561

Silhouette Yours Truly

When Mac Met Haley

Silhouette Books

Montana Mavericks

Man without a Past

CELESTE HAMILTON

has been writing since she was ten years old, with the encouragement of parents who told her she could do anything she set out to do and teachers who helped her refine her talents.

The broadcast media captured her interest in high school, and she graduated from the University of Tennessee with a B.S. in Communications. From there, she began writing and producing commercials at a Chattanooga, Tennessee, radio station.

Celeste began writing romances in 1985 and now works at her craft full-time. Married to a policeman, she likes nothing better than spending time at home with him and their two much-loved cats, although she and her husband also enjoy traveling when their busy schedules permit. Wherever they go, however, “It’s always nice to come home to east Tennessee—one of the most beautiful corners of the world.”

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter One

Olivia Franklin knew no bride-to-be could ask for a more beautiful setting for a prenuptial bash. A breeze softened the late-May evening. The sun had slipped past the western horizon, painting the big, Texas sky in pinks and lavenders, hues echoed by the pansies and petunias edging the tiled patio. A string quartet accompanied the laughter of the guests and the tinkling of ice in fine crystal.

Groups strolled in and out of the stucco mansion and wandered from the veranda to the buffet set up in a tent on the lawn. The movers and shakers of Austin were out in glittering force to toast the wedding of Roger Franklin’s daughter.

That’s all she was to them. Roger Franklin’s daughter.

Soon to be Marshall Crane’s wife.

Olivia set her champagne flute on a table and walked, virtually unnoticed, around the periphery of the crowd. At the other end of the veranda, her father held court. Marshall stood beside him, smiling as Roger clapped him on the shoulder and grinned his approval. Tomorrow, when Marshall said “I do” to Olivia, he would become much more than just her father’s business protégé. He would be family. Roger would have exactly what he wanted. So would Marshall.

And what about her?

Olivia found it difficult to breathe.

She went into the house and made her way upstairs, nodding and murmuring excuses to the few who sought to detain her. How ironic. She was supposed to be the evening’s honored guest. The bride. But she could slip away almost undetected.

An excited bark greeted her as she closed her bedroom door. A tiny ball of fur streaked from the bed and began a dance around Olivia’s feet. She knelt and gathered her Yorkshire terrier into her arms. “Hello, Puddin’, baby. Hello, sweet girl.”

A sniff brought Olivia to her feet, still holding the dog. In the doorway to her dressing room, a mountain of a woman stood with a stack of clothing in her arms. Mary Gunter’s broad face registered her disapproval, and she addressed Olivia with the familiarity of over twenty years as nurse, maid and surrogate mother. “What are you doing up here?”

“No one cares if I’m at the party or not.” Olivia’s bronze silk skirt swished about her ankles as she stalked across the room. Puddin’ gave her a comforting lick on the chin.

Mary carefully tucked clothing into one of several suitcases open on the bed. “Poor little girl,” she said in a singsong voice, just as she might have when Olivia was ten. “All alone and feeling sorry for herself.”

The woman’s persistence in treating her like a child was a long-running battle Olivia couldn’t face right now. Pausing at one of the windows beside her bed, Olivia drew back a sheer panel. Her room overlooked the side of the house closest to the barns and stables, away from the gardens and the party, but she could still hear the music and laughter. “All of those people are here to see Father. They don’t care about me.”

“Now, now…”

“It’s true.” Idly Olivia watched a truck with a camper and a horse trailer turn off the main drive and down the road toward the barns.

“You’re being silly.”

The truck and camper drew to a stop at the stables, and with a sigh Olivia turned back to Mary. “I’m just the great man’s daughter. Not a great beauty like her mother. Not a genius like her father. Nothing too spectacular at all. A mere curiosity worth only a glance or two because I’ve been kept under lock and key most of my life.”

“Your father has tried to protect you. You know why.” The rebuke in Mary’s tone was clear.

Olivia bit her lip to stop her flippant retort. Of course she knew her father’s reasons. An electronics whiz kid, Roger Franklin had started his own company while still in his twenties. A millionaire by thirty-five, he married the most sought-after debutante in Austin. Fifteen years ago, when Olivia was only eight, her mother had been kidnapped. Roger had paid the ransom, but beautiful Leila Franklin was killed. Roger had never stopped blaming himself or striving to keep his and Leila’s only child safe.

Much of the time Olivia had been able to forgive her father his overprotectiveness. Though she had often felt like an unbroken horse kicking at the door of a stall, she had done as her father had asked. She agreed to the bodyguards who accompanied her everywhere, to school, shopping, on infrequent excursions with schoolmates or dates. She lived at the family town house in Austin instead of a dormitory or apartment while she attended college. She set aside her desire to use her artistic talents and start a career. Her father wouldn’t even consider her working in his own company.

The reason she knew few of the people at tonight’s party was because he wanted it that way. He had discouraged friendships. Olivia had found friends despite him, especially during college. However, most of those friends were busy leading lives that didn’t include guards and gates and fences. Olivia spent most of her time here at the ranch, where her father often entertained. She played hostess, but never became really close to any of their guests.

To some people she led an idyllic life. No worries about money. A beautiful home. Gorgeous clothes. Prize-winning horses. A pool and tennis courts. A staff to see to her every need. Travel to exotic destinations whenever her father deemed it suitable.

Olivia had tried very hard to see herself as lucky.

When her father had first pushed her to go out with Marshall, she had been surprised. And then grateful. For with Marshall, she had actually seen a way out of her gilded cage. With a man her father trusted, surely she could begin to live her own life.

Marshall was easy to like—good-looking, educated, a pleasant companion. He sympathized with Olivia’s desire for independence. She never once deluded herself into thinking she loved the man, but she found him kind and attentive. They shared interests in horses, in music and books. Olivia had looked forward to moving into his home when they returned from their month-long European honeymoon. She had imagined them living a pleasant, normal life. Surely, as a married woman who managed her own affairs, she would finally escape the shadows of fear which had haunted her father and enslaved her.

But this afternoon Marshall had informed her they would be living here. With the security cameras outside. With the guard at the gate. With someone watching her every move. When she had protested, Marshall had reminded her that here she was safe.

Safe? More like trapped.

He had sounded just like her father.

This afternoon Olivia had realized she saw her marriage only as an escape, a way out of the luxurious prison of her life. Before today, she had convinced herself she really wanted to make a life with Marshall. Now she saw he was prepared to join her father as an additional prison guard. And that was no life at all.

All day she had entertained fantasies of running away. Of kicking over the tables of wedding gifts downstairs and racing out the front door. Of stealing one of the caterer’s uniforms and sliding anonymously out the kitchen entrance. Of mingling with the guests, getting into a car and driving away.

But all she could think of were the times she had tried to escape. To an afternoon alone at the movies with a friend from school. For a weekend with her one-and-only boyfriend before Marshall. Or in Paris last year, when she simply wanted to walk down a legendary street with the knowledge that she was truly on her own. Her father’s men had found her. They had always found her.

Her father regarded these attempts at independence as indications of Olivia’s immaturity. He called her impulsive and naive, and made her feel foolish and none too intelligent. At the same time, he said he loved her and wanted to protect her.

Maybe that’s why Olivia couldn’t hate him, even when he made her feel so inadequate. He truly believed he was saving her as he had been unable to save her mother. The people who had kidnapped Leila had been hired to work here at the ranch. Roger had trusted them, let them into his family’s lives, and they had betrayed him. Since then his vigilance had never wavered. It never would.

Once more Olivia found she couldn’t breathe.

“Are you okay?”

Glancing up to meet Mary’s concerned gaze, Olivia managed to draw in and release a breath. “I’m just…excited…”

“Of course you are.” Smiling, Mary turned toward the corner where a shimmering dress of satin and tulle hung in front of a three-paneled mirror. “Tomorrow, you’ll wear your mother’s dress, walk down the aisle at the church, dance at the reception at the country club, and you’ll be the most beautiful bride Austin has ever seen. Mr. Roger and Mr. Marshall will be so proud. Those people downstairs will never forget you.”

Yes, she would be memorable. As Roger Franklin’s daughter. Marshall Crane’s bride. They would never know Olivia Kay Franklin. No one was allowed to know her. She wasn’t even sure she knew herself.

Puddin’ gave a startled yip just as the door banged open. Roger Franklin strode into the room, and the dog leaped to the floor to greet him.

Olivia’s father wasn’t a tall man. No more than average height, he was stout of build and not handsome by any stretch of imagination. His red hair, which Olivia had inherited, had gone gray at the temples. His brown eyes, also like hers, flashed in a face unremarkable of feature. But what Roger Franklin lacked in looks, he made up for in presence. He exuded power, confidence and strength.

As was often the case, Olivia resisted an impudent temptation to salute him. “Hello, Father.”

“You should be downstairs.”

“I know.”

“Then why aren’t you?”

“I needed to get away for a few minutes.”

“Marshall wants you at his side.”

“Does he?” Hard as she tried, Olivia could not keep the sarcasm out of her voice. Once she might have been pleased to think she was needed at her fiancé’s side, but now that charade seemed foolish.

Her father lifted an eyebrow. “Is there something wrong, Olivia?”

Only everything, she wanted to say. But what would that prove? Instead, she shook her head.

At Roger’s feet, Puddin’ jumped and yapped, begging for his attention. Olivia had seen her father indulge her pampered pet, who was not the least bit intimidated by the man, but now he snapped, “Could you make her hush, Olivia?”

She picked up the dog, but Puddin’ continued to whimper, her soulful black eyes fastened on Roger.

He sighed wearily. “Olivia, you should return to our party, especially since I need to step away for a while.”

“Something wrong?”

He made an impatient gesture with one hand. “The breeder who is buying Royal Pleasure just arrived.”

Mention of one of her favorite mounts sent a pang through Olivia. “Must you sell her?”

“She served her purpose.”

The prize-winning Tennessee Walker had produced two colts sired by the cream of the Franklin stable. Now she was going to the highest bidder. Olivia felt a distinct kinship to the beautiful horse, who had no say in her own fate.

“Can’t the breeder just deal with Jake?” Olivia asked, referring to her father’s foreman. “Or wait until after the party?”

“You know I take care of these things myself. And there’s no reason to wait. The breeder can be on his way with Royal Pleasure first thing in the morning.”

“Of course,” she murmured, feeling silly. Her father made his own deals, operated strictly hands-on, in control, on his own schedule. It had been suggested that he would be even richer, his company even more successful, if he would loosen the reins a bit. He scoffed at such suggestions.

“Come down to the party,” Roger commanded.

“Just let me touch up my makeup.”

Her father nodded, scowled down at Puddin’ and reluctantly reached out and patted the dog’s head. Shivers of delight erupted in the tiny dog’s body.

Dryly Roger observed, “She’s coating you in dog hair.”

Glancing with dismay at her sheer white blouse, Olivia felt sixteen instead of twenty-three.

Roger started to turn away, then paused. His voice deepened. His harsh features softened somewhat. “You know you look like your mother tonight. Very lovely.”

Olivia swallowed hard. She knew she was nothing like her elegant, blond mother, and couldn’t imagine why her father mentioned any resemblance.

He continued, “She would be happy about this wedding. Just as I am. Marshall can take care of you.”

Words stuck in Olivia’s throat. The thought of being taken care of for the rest of her life was too terrible for comment.

Her father seemed to take her silence as agreement, for he nodded and strode out of the room.

Olivia sank down on the edge of the bed, anger pounding inside her.

I have to get out of here. I have to escape.

Puddin’s protests and Mary’s voice gradually penetrated the shouting in Olivia’s brain.

“You must go,” Mary murmured, regarding her with concern. “Go.”

Slowly Olivia released her dog and looked up at her longtime nanny. “Yes,” she agreed. “I must go.”

She wasn’t talking about returning to the party.

“Here, pretty lady. That’s right. Right here.” Noah Raybourne sighed his approval as he ran a hand down the mare’s sleek, ebony coat. Royal Pleasure stomped her front legs and turned her regal head toward him, her breath rising like a cloud in the cool morning air.

The grizzled Franklin ranch boss, Jake Keneally, scratched his beard. “It’s almost as if she knows you.”

“Maybe she recognizes family.”

Jake peered at him in puzzlement.

“Her mama’s sire belonged to my father,” Noah explained, stroking the mare’s velvety nose. “Carmen’s Best Boy was born and bred on Raybourne Farms. He was named for my mother.”

“I knew the horse,” Jake replied. “But he belonged to a breeder over toward Dallas.”

Familiar anger tightened Noah’s gut. “My stepfather sold him out from under us.”

The ranch boss apparently had enough firsthand knowledge of troubles to keep from prying. He grunted and gave Royal Pleasure a loving stroke of his own. “I won’t say I’m glad to see this beauty leave us, but it’s good to hear she’s going where she’ll be appreciated.”

“That she will.” Noah took Royal Pleasure’s lead and walked her toward his horse trailer, talking gently to her all the while.

With a minimum of fuss, she was loaded aboard the white trailer emblazoned with an ornate R in black script.

Noah tossed his duffel bag on the front seat of his truck and turned to shake Jake’s hand. “Thanks for your help. I especially appreciate the grub and the comfortable bed last night.” He gestured toward the camper on his truck bed. “More than a few nights in this thing can get pretty old.”

With a final wave, Noah swung into the driver’s seat and was on his way. The sun, though not yet visible, was lighting the eastern horizon as he stopped at the gate. A uniformed guard, different from the man he had seen last night, stepped up to the window with a clipboard in hand. “Hello, Mr. Raybourne. Jake called to say you were headed out.”

“You folks take security seriously round here, don’t you?” Noah commented with a smile.

The guard gave him a steady, measuring look. “Mr. Franklin is pretty clear about how he wants things handled.”

“I’m sure he is.” Noah imagined Roger Franklin was crystal clear about all matters affecting his family, his business and holdings.

The guard made a notation on his clipboard, then stepped back and studied the truck and trailer for a moment. Apparently reassured there was no reason to conduct a search, he opened the automatic gate and waved Noah through.

The whole operation amused Noah. He understood that a rich man might have some security concerns, but this place was set up like a fortress. Maybe the extra precautions were in place because of that big party they had last night. Jake had told him Franklin’s daughter was getting married today.

Peering at the golden glow on the horizon and at the sky, which was changing from gray to blue, Noah muttered, “Looks like beautiful weather for a wedding.” He met his own gaze in the rearview mirror. “Sure hope it goes better than mine.”

If things had gone as planned, he and Amy would have celebrated their third anniversary a couple of weeks ago. Noah’s mother had blamed the passage of that date on the foul mood that had gripped him of late. She was wrong, Noah told himself. He was well and truly over Amy. He had gotten beyond being left at the altar. Only rarely did he think about having to walk out into that church and announce to everyone that the girl he loved had changed her mind about hitching her star to a struggling horse breeder whose only debt-free asset was the fire burning in his belly.

Realizing he gripped the steering wheel with undue force, Noah made himself relax. Maybe his mother was right, after all. Perhaps his foul mood wasn’t just the result of too much work and worry. He had been thinking about Amy. Her engagement to a successful Nashville businessman was announced last month. The news had started Noah questioning himself. Had what Amy wanted really been so wrong?

Before they were to marry, she had asked Noah to sell a half interest in his operation to her father. The capital would have provided Noah with the means to rebuild much of the farm and breeding business his irresponsible stepfather had tried to destroy. The money would also have allowed them to redo the farmhouse and live in the sort of comfort to which Amy was accustomed.

But Noah had wanted them to rebuild the farm themselves, as a team, working as his parents once had and as his grandparents before them. Though he knew Amy’s father to be a good, honest man, he was fearful of letting an outsider have any say in the farm his grandfather had founded and his father had run so successfully. The only other outsider to interfere in Raybourne Farms had almost ruined it. Noah couldn’t do what Amy asked.

She had called him a pigheaded, prideful fool, and they had argued. But he had still believed she loved him and intended to go through with the wedding. He had underestimated her fears about living on the limited means he had to offer. After all the other embarrassment his family had endured in the community, Noah still couldn’t believe she had left him standing at the altar. But she had.

Her willingness to humiliate him in such a public way should have Noah thanking his lucky stars to have escaped marriage to her.

But on those days when he worked his body to weary numbness, when he faced a lonely night at home, when he awoke to an empty bed, Noah wasn’t so sure he was lucky.