A Bride for the Runaway Groom Read online

  Millionaire to say “I do”—at last!

  PR whizz Rose Huntingdon-Cross is drowning under work, but when asked to organize a celebrity wedding party, she can’t say no! She enlists millionaire Will Carter to help—after four almost-weddings, he’s got plenty of experience!

  Working alongside this gorgeous-but-enigmatic bachelor, Rose can’t help wondering just why he’s still single! And as a heart-stopping bond develops between them, dare Rose hope that she can persuade Will this is a once-in-a-lifetime love—that will finally have him saying “I do”?

  Summer Weddings

  A season of confetti and whirlwind romances!

  You are cordially invited to attend the Huntingdon-Cross summer weddings.

  Celebrate the shotgun marriage of Daisy Huntingdon-Cross and Sebastian Beresford in

  Expecting the Earl’s Baby

  by Jessica Gilmore

  Save the date: on sale April 2015

  Raise a glass to Rose Huntingdon-Cross and Will Carter as they finally tie the knot in

  A Bride for the Runaway Groom

  by Scarlet Wilson

  Save the date: on sale May 2015

  Join us in celebrating Violet Huntingdon-Cross and Tom Buckley’s star-studded wedding day in

  Falling for the Bridesmaid

  by Sophie Pembroke

  Save the date: on sale June 2015

  Dear Reader,

  I love summer wedding stories and was delighted to be asked to be part of the summer wedding trilogy with Jessica Gilmore and Sophie Pembroke.

  These three stories were plotted with a bottle of wine, sitting on some grass at the Romantic Novelists’ Association conference in Newport, Shropshire.

  I was so delighted when my hero, Will Carter, was nicknamed the Runaway Groom. As I was writing this story I could actually see a lot of these scenes in my head—particularly the one at the wedding fair when the balloons escape, and the final wedding scene in the tiny church on the island.

  I love to hear from readers. You can find me at scarlet-wilson.com, on Facebook and on Twitter, @scarlet_wilson.

  Enjoy!

  Scarlet Wilson

  A BRIDE FOR THE RUNAWAY GROOM

  Scarlet Wilson

  Scarlet Wilson writes romances and medical romances for Harlequin Mills & Boon. She lives on the west coast of Scotland with her fiancé and their two sons. She loves to hear from readers and can be reached via her website, scarlet-wilson.com.

  Books by Scarlet Wilson

  HARLEQUIN ROMANCE

  English Girl in New York

  The Heir of the Castle

  The Prince She Never Forgot

  Visit the Author Profile page at Harlequin.com for more titles.

  For two gorgeous brides who are now two fabulous mummies, Carissa Hyndman and Hayley Dickson.

  And to my fellow authors Jessica Gilmore and Sophie Pembroke for making this such fun!

  Contents

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  EXCERPT

  CHAPTER ONE

  SOMETHING WASN’T RIGHT.

  No, scratch that. Something was very, very wrong.

  Everything should be perfect. Her sister’s wedding yesterday had been beautiful. A picture-perfect day with a bride and groom that truly loved each other. It was a joy to be a part of a day like that.

  But, by midnight, the days of jet lag that she’d been ignoring had finally caught up with her and she’d staggered to bed and collapsed in a heap, catching up on some much-needed sleep.

  Her new brother-in-law, Seb, had a house to die for. Hawksley Castle, a home part Norman, part Tudor and part Georgian. The room she was in was sumptuous and spacious with the most comfortable bed in the world.

  At least it would be—if she were in that bed alone.

  She could hear breathing, heavy breathing, sometimes accompanied with a tiny noise resembling a snore.

  Right now, she was afraid to move.

  She hadn’t drunk much at all yesterday—only two glasses of wine. Because of the jet lag they’d hit hard. But not so hard she’d invited someone into her bed.

  She’d attended her sister’s wedding alone. No plus-one for Rose.

  There had been no flirtations, no alluring glances and no invitations back to her room. And this definitely was her room. She opened her eyes just a little to check.

  Yes, there was her bright blue suitcase in the corner of the room. Thank goodness. She hadn’t been so tired that she’d stumbled into the wrong room. Seb’s house was so big it might have happened.

  But it hadn’t.

  So, who was heavy breathing in her bed?

  She didn’t want to move. Didn’t want to alert the intruder to the fact that she was awake. She could feel the dip in the bed at her back. Turning around and coming face-to-face with a perfect stranger wasn’t in her plans.

  She needed to think about this carefully.

  She edged her leg towards the side of the bed. Stealth mode. Then, cringed. No satin negligee. No pyjamas. Just the underwear she’d had on under her bridesmaid dress that was lying in a crumpled heap at the bottom of the bed. Brilliant. Just brilliant.

  Her painted toenails mocked her. As did her obligatory fake tan. Vulnerable. That was how she felt. And Rose Huntingdon-Cross didn’t take kindly to anyone who made her feel like that.

  Just then the stranger moved. A hand slid over her skin around her hip and settled on her stomach. She stifled a yelp as her breath caught in her throat. Something resembling a comfortable moan came from behind her as the stranger decided to cuddle in closer. The sensation of an unidentified warm body next to hers was more than she could take.

  She slid her legs and body as silently as possible out of the bed. The only thing close to hand that could resemble a weapon was a large pink vase. Her heart was thudding against her chest. How dared someone creep into bed with her and grope her?

  She held her breath as her feet came into contact with the soft carpet and she automatically grasped the vase in both hands.

  She spun around to face the intruder. In other circumstances, this would be comical. But, right now, it felt anything but comical. She was practically naked and a strange man had crept into bed beside her. How dared he?

  Who on earth was he? She didn’t recognise him at all. But the wedding of an earl and a celebrity couple’s daughter was full of people she couldn’t even take a guess at. Undoubtedly he was some hanger-on.

  If her rational head were in place she would grab her clothes and run from the room, getting someone to come and help with the intruder.

  But Rose hated being thought of as a shrinking violet. For once, she wanted to sort things for herself.

  She padded around to the other side of the bed in her bare feet, hoisting the vase above her head just as the stranger gave a little contented moan.

  It was all she needed to give her a burst of unforgiving adrenaline. The initial fear rapidly turned to anger and she brought the vase down without a second thought. ‘Who do you think you are? What are you doing in my bed? How dare you touch
me?’ she screamed.

  The vase shattered into a million pieces. The guy’s eyes shot open and in one movement he was on his feet—fists raised and swaying.

  He blinked for a few seconds—big, bright blue eyes with a darker rim that didn’t look the least bit predatory, but a whole lot shell-shocked—then dropped his fists and clutched his head.

  ‘Violet, what on earth are you doing? Are you crazy?’ He groaned and swayed again, one of his hands reaching out to grab the wall—leaving a bloodstained mark on the expensive wallpaper.

  She couldn’t breathe. Her heart was thudding against her chest and her stomach was doing crazy flip-flops. ‘What do you mean, Violet? I’m not Violet.’

  This just wasn’t possible. Okay, Violet was her identical twin. They didn’t usually look so similar, but a few years stateside and not seeing each other on a daily basis meant she’d shown up with an identical hairstyle to her sister.

  This clown actually thought he was in bed with her sister? What kind of a fool did that?

  He was still shaking his head. It was almost as if his vision hadn’t quite come into focus. ‘But of course you’re Violet,’ he said.

  ‘No. I’m not. And stop dripping blood on the carpet!’

  They both stared down at the probably priceless carpet that had two large blood drips, and the remnants of the vase at his feet and across the bed.

  He grabbed his shirt from the chair next to the bed and pressed it to his head. It was the first time she’d even noticed his clothes—discarded in the same manner as her yellow and white bridesmaid dress.

  His eyes seemed to come into focus and he stepped forward, reaching one hand out to her shoulder. He squinted. ‘Darn it. You’re not Violet, are you? You haven’t got her mole on your shoulder.’

  His finger came into contact with her skin and she jumped back. One part of her knew that this ‘intruder’ wasn’t any danger to her. But another part of her was still mad about being mistaken for her twin and being felt up by her twin’s boyfriend. How on earth could this be explained? This guy was obviously another one of Violet’s losers.

  Violet burst through the door. ‘What’s going on? Rose, are you okay?’ Her eyes darted from one to the other. The guy, in his wrinkled boxer shorts and shirt pressed to his forehead, and Rose, in her bridesmaid underwear. The broken vase seemed to completely pass her by.

  She wrinkled her nose in disgust and shook her head. ‘Will? My sister? Oh, tell me you didn’t?’

  They didn’t sound like words of jealousy—just words of pure exasperation.

  She threw her hands in the air and spun around, muttering under her breath. ‘Runaway groom my sister and I’ll kill you.’

  Rose was feeling decidedly exposed. The only thing she could find to hold in front of herself was her crumpled bridesmaid dress.

  Whoever he was, he obviously wasn’t Violet’s boyfriend—not with that kind of reaction. But did that make things better or worse? She’d still been groped by an absolute stranger.

  He wobbled again and sagged down into the chair strewn with his clothes, arching one eyebrow at her. ‘So, crazy twin. Do you assault every man you meet?’

  ‘Only every man who climbs into my bed uninvited and cops a feel!’

  ‘Well, lucky them.’ He sounded oh, so unimpressed. Then he frowned. ‘Did I touch you? I’m sorry. I was sleeping. I didn’t even realise I’d done that.’

  The blood was starting to soak through his shirt. She cringed. Maybe the vase had been a bit over the top. And at least she’d got some kind of apology.

  She stepped forward and took the shirt from his hand. ‘Here, let me.’ She pressed down firmly on his forehead.

  ‘Youch! Take it easy.’

  She shook her head. ‘The forehead’s a very vascular area. It bleeds easily and needs a bit of pressure to get the bleeding to stop.’

  ‘How on earth would you know that?’

  ‘Friends with children who seem to bang their foreheads against every piece of furniture I own.’

  He gave her half a smile. It was the first time she really noticed how handsome he was. There were no flabby abs here. Just a whole load of nicely defined muscles. With those killer blue eyes and thick dark hair he was probably quite a hit with the ladies.

  A prickle flooded over her skin. In the cold light of day this guy seemed vaguely familiar.

  ‘How do you know Violet?’ she asked.

  He winced as she pressed a little harder. ‘She’s my best friend.’

  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.