A Bride for the Runaway Groom

Rose sucked in a deep breath. Things were starting to fall into place for her. Because she’d been working in New York she hadn’t met Violet’s best friend for the last few years. But she had heard a lot about him.

She pulled her hand back from his forehead. Now she understood what Violet had said. ‘You’re the Runaway Groom?’ She was so shocked she dropped her dress.

A single dark red drop of blood snaked down his forehead as he looked at her in disgust.

‘I hate that nickname.’

The Runaway Groom. No wonder he looked vaguely familiar. He’d been on the front page of just about every newspaper in the world. Self-made millionaire Will Carter had been famously engaged three—or was it four?—times. He’d even made it down the aisle once before turning on his heel and bolting.

The press should hate him. But they didn’t. They loved him and ate it up every time he fell in love and got engaged again. Because Will was handsome. Will was charming. And Will was sitting semi-naked in front of her.

She was trying so hard not to look at the abs and the scattering of dark hair that seemed to lead the eye in one direction.

She gave herself a mental shake just as a heavy drop of blood slid past his eye and down the side of his face. She leaned over to catch it with the shirt, just as he lifted his hand to try and brush it away.

The contact of their skin sent a tingle straight up her arm, making her heart rate do a strange pitter-patter. All the little hairs on her arms stood on end and she automatically sucked in her stomach.

‘Look, I’m sorry about your head. But I woke up and there was a strange man in bed with me—then you touched me and I was frightened.’ And she hated saying those words out loud but since she’d caused bodily harm to her sister’s best friend it seemed warranted. She raised her eyebrows. ‘You’re lucky it was only a vase.’

His gaze was still on her. ‘So you’re Rose?’ It wasn’t really a question—more an observation and it was obvious from his expression that a million thoughts were currently spinning through his brain. What on earth had Violet told him about her?

He looked at the fragments beneath his feet and gave a half-smile. A cute little dimple appeared in one cheek. ‘Oh, you’re definitely not going to be Seb’s favourite sister-in-law. At a rough guess that’s over two hundred years old.’

A sick feeling passed over her. Defence was her automatic position. ‘Who puts a two-hundred-year-old vase in a guest bedroom? He must be out of his mind.’

He shrugged. ‘Your sister obviously doesn’t think so. She just married him.’

Daisy, Rose’s youngest sister, was still floating happily along on cloud two hundred and nine. And Seb seemed a really sweet guy. Just as well since she’d told her sisters just before the wedding that two were about to become three. The first baby in the family for more than twenty years. Rose couldn’t wait to meet her niece or nephew, and she was doing her best to ignore the vaguest flicker of jealousy she’d felt when Daisy had told her.

She frowned. How much did a two-hundred-year-old vase cost anyway? She lifted the shirt again and winced. ‘Hmm.’

His eyebrows shot up. ‘What’s “hmm”?’

‘Hmm means it’s deeper than it originally looked and I think you might need stitches. Maybe I can get you a packet of frozen peas from the kitchen?’ She paused and looked around. ‘Do you even know where the kitchen is in here?’ Even as she said the words she almost laughed out loud. Seb’s kitchen would probably spontaneously combust if someone even said the words ‘frozen peas’ in it. Daisy really had moved into a whole different world here.

He shook his head and placed his hand over hers. His hand was nice and warm, whereas hers was cold and clammy. Another thing to annoy her. He wasn’t nearly as worked up as she was. This was all just another day in the life of the Runaway Groom. How often did he wake up next to a strange woman?

‘What were you playing at anyway? You might be Violet’s best friend but why on earth would you be climbing into bed with my sister? It’s obvious from Violet’s reaction that there’s nothing going on between you. What on earth were you doing?’

Will gestured his head towards her suitcase. ‘If I’m going to need stitches why don’t you get dressed? You’ll need to take me to the hospital.’

He hadn’t answered her question. Did he think she hadn’t noticed? Of course she had.

And the assumption that she’d take him to the hospital made her skin bristle.

All of a sudden she was conscious of her distinct lack of clothes. She slid her hand out from under his and moved over to her suitcase, cursing herself when she remembered he’d just had a big view of her backside.

Still, if he sometimes bunked in with Violet, then he was used to being around her sister in a semi-naked state. She glanced backwards. He didn’t seem to have even noticed. Was she relieved or mad? She couldn’t work it out. Apart from a few freckles, moles and little scars—one of which he’d already noted—she and her sister were virtually identical. Maybe that was why he wasn’t looking? He’d seen it all before.

She grabbed a summer dress from her case and pulled it over her head. A little rumpled and yesterday’s underwear still in place. Not the best scenario. But she didn’t fancy fishing through her smalls to find a new set while he sat and watched in his jersey boxer shorts that left nothing to the imagination.

‘Don’t you have a bride in waiting that can take you to hospital?’

He scowled at her. ‘Not even funny, Rose. You work in PR, don’t you? Surely you know better than to believe everything you read in the papers?’

His words were dripping with sarcasm. The nerve she’d apparently just touched ran deep.

She folded her arms across her chest. ‘But I thought most of the time you sold those stories and worked them in your favour.’

‘What made you think that?’ he snapped.

‘Oh, I don’t know. The ten-page photo spreads in Exclusive magazine. How many of them have you featured in now?’

He gritted his teeth together. ‘Not my idea.’

It was good to see him uncomfortable. Waking up with a strange guy in your bed was horribly intimidating. To say nothing of the discomfort and embarrassment. What if she snored—or made strange noises in her sleep?

And he still hadn’t answered the question about sleeping with her sister. What exactly was the deal? His eyes were still fixed furiously on her and the blood was soaking through his shirt. She decided to give him a little leeway.

She gestured towards him. ‘What about you? You can’t wear that shirt. Where are your clothes?’

He wrinkled his nose. ‘I’m not sure. I ran in here at the last minute yesterday. I think my bag might be in Violet’s room.’

‘Violet’s room?’ She said it bluntly, hoping he’d take the hint and decide he should go there. But if he did, he ignored it.

‘Yeah, would you mind running along and grabbing something for me?’ He had that smile on his face. The one that was usually plastered all over the front page of a magazine, or on his face when he was charming some reporter. It was almost as if someone had flicked a little switch and he’d just fallen into his default position. His voice and smile washed over her like a warm summer’s day. Boy, this guy was good. But she was determined not to fall for his charms.

‘I will. But only because I’ve probably scarred you for life. I’m not Violet. I’m not your best friend—or your bed buddy. Once I’ve taken you to the hospital, we’re done. Are we clear?’

His Mediterranean-sea-blue eyes lost all their warmth. ‘Crystal.’ He waited until she’d reached the door before he added, ‘And you’re right. You’re not Violet.’

* * *

He watched her retreating back as she stomped out of the door. His head was definitely muggy and he wasn’t quite sure if it was from the alcohol last night or the head injury this morning.

Part of him felt guilty, part of him felt enraged and part of him was cringing.

Last night was a bit of a blur. He’d just made it to the wedding on time and hadn’t eaten a thing beforehand. His charity commitments were hectic and he was anxious not to let people down, which meant he’d been pulling on his tie and jacket in the sprawling car park at Hawksley Castle. A business call had come in just as dinner had arrived so he’d missed most of that, too. Then the party had truly started. And Violet had mentioned something about staying in her room as she’d fluttered past in her yellow and white bridesmaid dress.

A bridesmaid dress he’d definitely seen on the floor as he’d stumbled into the room. She’d been sleeping peacefully with her back to him and he hadn’t even thought to wake her. Actually, he knew better. If he’d shaken Violet awake to let her know he was there she would have killed him with her bare hands.

Maybe the sisters had more in common than he thought?

It was strange. He’d never once considered Violet in a romantic sense. They’d clicked as friends from the start. Good friends. Nothing more. Nothing less.

He trusted her. Which was a lot more than he could say of some people. She gave it to him straight. There was no flirting, nothing ambiguous. Just plenty of laughs, plenty of support and plenty of ear bashing.

But Violet’s identical twin... Well, she was a whole different story.