Stolen Bride

Stolen Bride
Sally Carr

Bride on the run…Standing in front of the altar, bouquet in hand, Cara Gambini realized she didn't love Luca Finzi and didn't want to marry him. Fortunately, help was available in the form of an infuriatingly charming, all-American hero.Finn Cormac walked into the church and offered Cara a choice–she could marry a man of dubious character and even more dubious business dealings, or allow a perfect stranger to steal her away from her own wedding. It was no contest–Cara opted for the stranger!

“You’re a dangerous woman to know, Cara Gambini.” (#uf49e8061-8671-5629-a226-cfdf6dc46d2c)About the Author (#u7c7d6c00-4f34-51fa-9e3e-a404cc8cab2a)Title Page (#ubaea66c0-de2b-5b99-88c1-8e5a18069434)CHAPTER ONE (#u92c252ed-24c3-5ece-bd01-965734f5ed58)CHAPTER TWO (#uecf013c1-fefe-562f-a925-a727c034b4da)CHAPTER THREE (#udea8aa04-77ab-5d81-938d-ebc36350be45)CHAPTER FOUR (#litres_trial_promo)CHAPTER FIVE (#litres_trial_promo)CHAPTER SIX (#litres_trial_promo)CHAPTER SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)CHAPTER EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)CHAPTER NINE (#litres_trial_promo)CHAPTER TEN (#litres_trial_promo)Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)

“You’re a dangerous woman to know, Cara Gambini.”

She stared at him, amazed. “Dangerous?” she echoed. “Me?”

Finn nodded. “Yes, you. I don’t know you, and I don’t know how serious you are about getting away....

Have you any idea of what you want to do now? A plan, maybe?“

“A plan?” she echoed blankly. She had never before in her life been asked such a question. Everybody else always made plans for her. Suddenly Cara found herself thinking of possibilities and consequences. And all of them looked black.

She eyed the stranger a little doubtfully. “What about you? Do you have a plan?”

He scratched his jaw. “Oh, plenty,” he agreed. “But, unfortunately, I made most of them before I attended your wedding. And none of them included a runaway bride with half the thugs in Naples on her tail.”

Sally Carr trained as a journalist and has worked on several national newspapers. She was brought up in the West Indies, and her travels have taken her nearly all over the world, including Tibet, Russia and North America. She lives with her husband, two dogs, three goldfish and six hens in an old hunting lodge in Northamptonshire, England, and has become an expert painter and decorator. She enjoys walking, gardening and playing the clarinet.

Stolen Bride

Sally Carr

www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)

CHAPTER ONE

IT WAS cold in the church, away from the pounding heat outside, but Cara felt a chill that had nothing to do with the temperature.

She took a glance once more at the man standing next to her, and then down at her dress, the heavy silk dragging away from her waist like an ice slope. In a few moments she was going to marry a man she knew she couldn’t love, and there was nothing she could do about it. She couldn’t back down now.

Behind her, she knew, the church was packed with the two families who looked upon this moment as the final seal on the relationship between them. A medieval view, maybe, but one that still held in this part of Italy. Especially when it concerned the future good fortune of the family.

Cara clasped and unclasped her fingers. What was it the priest had just said? By her side, Luca seemed to be taking everything in, listening gravely to the man’s words. His neck, reddened where he had shaved it, bulged slightly over his collar. It reminded her suddenly of a wild turkey her uncle had once shot, and she looked hurriedly away.

There were huge candles, as thick as her arm, burning everywhere in the church, their flames steady in the still air. And there was incense, too, its sharp smell pricking her nostrils. She shook her head irritably. Why did this ceremony keep reminding her of a funeral? It was supposed to be the happiest day of her life.

She shot another surreptitious glance at her bridegroom. She had always known Luca. Treated him as the big brother she had never had. And when he had suggested marriage she had been initially excited by the idea. She had never been encouraged to have a career, and being the wife of an important man like Luca seemed rather glamorous. She had been very flattered that he had chosen her.

How foolish she had been. She stared woodenly at the priest and bit her lip. It hadn’t taken her.that long to realise that Luca had chosen her because ... well, because it made good business sense. Her uncle was one of the most powerful men in this part of Italy, and whoever married her could soon follow suit.

But her dawning realisation over the past few weeks that Luca didn’t love her hadn’t actually hurt as much as she thought it would. Why was that? And then there was the discovery last night that he had a mistress, too. In fact, if she wasn’t mistaken, the woman was at the back of the church right at this minute. She quelled the urge to turn and stare at her.

Everything was going so smoothly. So fast. She shivered again and then stiffened as the priest turned to her. All she had to do was agree with him. She stared at Luca and swallowed as her eyes met his. If anything, she was slightly taller than him, and he had used that often to make her feel clumsy and awkward. The priest repeated the question, and still she could say nothing.

Behind her she could feel the congregation stirring. It was right that she should hesitate, they seemed to be saying, but not this much. Just who did she think she was?

Cara half turned to Uncle Pancrazio for support, but he merely smiled and motioned her to carry on. She jerked her head round and looked at Luca once more. His hard brown slightly bloodshot eyes stared coldly into hers, and suddenly her mind was made up. She shook her head. ‘No,’ she whispered at last.

Had anybody heard? Or had she merely thought she had spoken? She scrunched up a handful of white silk in her left hand and gripping it tightly, she repeated the word more loudly. ‘No.’

There was a stunned silence in the church, and she swallowed hard at the expression on Luca’s face. ‘I can’t marry you.’ She forced the words out. ‘Truly. I thought I could love you, but I can’t. Please don’t be upset. You ought to find—’

But there was an uproar in the church by now, and Luca was turning to the priest. ‘Get on with the ceremony,’ he ordered.

The priest looked worriedly at Cara and then at the rest of the congregation. There were too many men in rather bulky jackets for him to refuse.

Half-unbelieving that she was being ignored, Cara turned to her relatives. ‘Uncle Pancrazio,’ she pleaded, ‘you’ve got to stop this. I don’t love Luca. I can’t go through with it.’

He looked at her for a long moment, but when he replied it was to Luca, not her. ‘It’s just nerves,’ he replied at last, and then signalled to the priest. ‘Carry on. There is no problem.’

Cara stared at him dumbly as Luca’s fingers enclosed her wrist and pulled her to his side. ‘You will pay for shaming me like this,’ he grated. ‘I—’

‘Just stop right there,’ said a new voice. Cara turned wildly, her wrist burning in Luca’s grip, to see the whole congregation staring at a lone man standing in the aisle. He was tall, taller than Luca, with dark hair and deep blue eyes. Everyone, including the many bodyguards lining the pews, seemed mesmerised by him.

Luca spun round and Cara, stumbling a little, was forced against him. Carefully she righted herself, holding herself as far away from him as she could.

But Luca tightened his grip, and she gasped as his fingers bit into her flesh. ‘Who are you to stop this wedding?’ he roared. ‘What right do you have here?’

His voice boomed around the church, echoed and died away. Only silence was left. So sudden and so deep it seemed a physical thing. All her relatives, everyone she knew, Luca’s family, her uncle’s business colleagues, people who together could make more noise than an average football crowd just by saying their prayers, seemed struck dumb. Even Luca seemed suddenly uncertain, his authority reduced to blustering.

Cara’s eyes rose to meet the stranger’s, and she felt an odd little lift in her heart. ‘I have the oldest right in the world,’ he drawled. ‘This woman just happens to be my wife.’

Her breath seemed to catch in her throat at his words. She could feel Luca staring at her, questioning the stranger’s words, but she wouldn’t return the look, knowing even he could read the truth in her eyes.

He was coming closer now, the stranger, that long-legged stride looking so slow and in reality so fast. He was wearing a blue linen shirt and white chinos, his hair not black as she had thought, but a deep dark brown, his eyes as blue as a summer sky at midnight.

He had a look in those eyes that dared her to tell the truth, and trusted her not to. The look in the eyes of a man determined to release a wild thing from a trap, even though it might turn on him.

He strolled up to her, and seemingly with no effort at all, took her hand from Luca’s. She did not resist, even though she could feel the eyes of every single one of her relatives staring at her in pure shock. And still they were silent.

She knew how they felt. It was as though she was being hypnotised. As though she was dreaming. Her fingers felt cold in his warm ones, and she realised suddenly she was shivering uncontrollably.

He nodded curtly at Luca and then looked at her once more. ‘Come along, darling.’

She looked at her fingers almost with surprise as they curled instinctively in his, and then, as she gazed into his eyes once more, she gave him the ghost of a smile and let him lead her towards the door.

‘It is a lie!’ shouted Uncle Pancrazio, his voice echoing around the church’s high ceiling. ‘What do you think you are doing! Of course she is not married.’

Cara looked into the stranger’s eyes and then at her uncle. ‘It is true.’ She forced the words out, feeling oddly light-headed at the lie she was telling. Was it really her speaking? ‘Last summer—’

‘Just keep walking,’ whispered the stranger, urging her along as she gabbled at her uncle. ‘Whatever happens, don’t stop.’

‘Last summer!’ roared her uncle. ‘You faithless—I will kill you both!’

‘Run!’ yelled the stranger, pulling her out of the church and down the sweeping stone steps. ‘There’s a killer in there!’ he shouted at a knot of bodyguards, now bounding towards them from the waiting cars, already loosening their jackets and reaching inside for their guns. ‘Quick! I’ll look after her.’