A Bride for the Runaway Groom

‘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

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.