A Bride for the Runaway Groom Page 3

  ‘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 y
ourself 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.

  ‘I think when we get back to Hawksley Castle we should ask Violet to stay with you. After all, she knows you best. She’ll know if you do anything out of character—like grope strange women.’ She couldn’t help but throw it in there. She waved the instructions at him. ‘You know, anything that might mean you need to go back to hospital.’ Now she was saying the words out loud they made perfect sense.

  He waved his finger at her. ‘Oh, no, you don’t.’

  ‘Don’t what?’

  ‘Try and get out of this.’ He pointed to his forehead. ‘You did this to me, Rose. It’s your job to hang around to make sure I’m okay.’

  He was so smooth. A mixture of treacle and syrup.

  ‘Oh, stop it, Will. I’m not your typical girl. I’m not going to fall at your feet and expect a ring. And if you keep going the way you are I’ll hit you again with the next vase I find. I’ve got things to do. I can’t hang around Hawksley Castle.’

  He smiled and opened the car door. ‘Who said we were spending the next twenty-four hours at Hawksley Castle?’

  She started as he climbed in. She pulled open the car door and slid in. ‘What on earth do you mean? Of course we’re going back to Hawksley Castle.’

  He shook his head. ‘I think both of us have overstayed our welcome. You’ve damaged one of Seb’s precious heirlooms and I’ve probably put immovable stains on an ancient carpet and wall. I suggest we regroup and go somewhere else.’

  She started the engine. ‘Like where?’

  ‘Like Gideon Hall.’

  Gideon Hall. Will Carter’s millionaire mansion. At least at Hawksley Castle she’d be surrounded by family and friends. There was safety in numbers. Being alone with Will Carter wasn’t something she wanted to risk.

  ‘Oh, no. I need to work, Will.’

  ‘I can give you access to a phone and computer. What else do you need?’

  ‘My jewellery equipment, my soldering iron, my casting mac
hine. My yellow, white and rose gold. My precious stones. Do you have any of those at Gideon Hall?’

  The confident grin fell from his face. ‘You’re serious about making the jewellery?’

  His question annoyed her. ‘Of course I am. Working for my dad is the day job. Working to make wedding jewellery? That’s the job I actually want to do. I spend most of my nights working on jewellery for upcoming weddings. I have an order to make wedding rings for a bride and groom. I can’t afford to take any time off.’

  It was nice to see his unwavering confidence start to fail. It seemed Mr Charming hadn’t thought of everything.

  She sighed. ‘If need be, we can collect our things from Seb’s, then go back to my parents’ place. If you’ve hung around with Violet long enough you must be familiar with it.’

  He settled back in the chair. ‘Do you have your equipment at your parents’ house?’

  She nodded. ‘I have one set in New York, and one set here.’

  ‘That’s fine. We can move it to my house in the next hour. I’ll get someone to help us.’

  He pulled his phone from his pocket and started dialling. ‘What? No. What on earth is wrong with you? I’ve said I’ll hang around you for the next twenty-four hours. Isn’t that enough?’

  He turned to face her. ‘Actually, no, it’s not. I’ve got a meeting later on today with a potential investor for the homeless charity. It’s taken for ever to set up and I don’t want to miss it.’

  ‘Can’t you just change the venue?’

  Will let out a long, slow puff of air and named a footballer her father had had a spat with a few months ago. ‘How would your dad feel about him being in his house?’

  She gulped. ‘Wow. No. He’d probably blow a gasket. He hates the guy.’ She frowned. ‘Are you sure he’s the right kind of guy to help your charity?’ She was racking her brains. Her dad was a good judge of character. He could spot a fake at twenty paces and didn’t hesitate to tell them. She was sure there was a good reason he didn’t like this footballer—she just couldn’t remember what it was.