Page 11 of Stranded with His Runaway Bride

The midday sunshine glinted in her hair as she walked away. He’d only ever seen her hair styled in an elaborate chignon. Much as it was now. Were those rich brown locks as plentiful as they appeared or was the bounty of intricate coils helped along by a hairpiece? If it was all her own, would it spill to her waist? Long enough for a man to wind his hands through?

Leo frowned. Surprised by the direction of his thoughts, he dismissed them. It was probably the novelty of finding his chaste bride was not as meek as he’d thought.

A nearby bush interrupted his musings.

‘Sorry, sir,’ it hissed.

Leo halted. ‘I think we got away with it,’ he answered, his voice low as Violetta disappeared into the house.

He squinted at the horizon in earnest. An ominous cloud had appeared over the mountains to the north. Bad weather had been forecast but not until later in the day. Contingency plans had been made to take the wedding reception from the gardens and inside the castle when necessary.

‘That storm front is moving pretty fast. Head to the gatehouse with the team. Anyone coming to the valley will have to come past you there anyway, so we should be safe enough. I’ll call on the house phone when I need you. Give me an hour or two and then be ready to collect us.’

‘Very well, sir.’

The bush rustled as the guard began crawling away.

‘Wait. Check on something, find out what happened to the princess’s people. She said they’d been dismissed. Find out where they are and have them brought to the castle’

‘We’ll get on it straight away. Would you like us to inform her uncle where she is?’

‘Yes. Tell him she’s safe with me. That it was last-minute nerves and that we’ll be returning to the castle by nightfall and we’ll be married then.’

He hoped.

‘Very well, sir. And...er...good luck with the princess.’

Luck? That would have nothing to do with this. With San Nicolo at stake, he was prepared to use all the powers of persuasion he had to convince his little runaway that marriage to him would be all to her benefit.

A flurry of wind snatched up clouds of wildflower petals and swirled them at his feet, like so much confetti.

He recrossed the threshold—still brideless.

For now, Leo thought.

CHAPTER THREE

THESALONWASDESERTED, so Leo paused only to collect his discarded jacket, sash and medals bar.

At the rear of the hallway, tucked beneath the grand staircase, the door to the service areas stood ajar.

He found her in the vast kitchen.

The staff who visited the chateau every four weeks kept them spotless. It smelled of beeswax, much as it always had. The long table and rustic chairs gleamed with it, as did the enormous oak dresser that still sat against the wall facing the large window. The granite worktop and the old range cooker were polished to a shine.

He knew this kitchen well. His grandmother loved to cook and often he and Seb would sit with her while she chopped this, stirred that.

It was a house where a royal heir had got to live a life as close to normal as possible. He and Seb were allowed to play outside all day, coming home filthy and starving, to plates piled with fresh pasta and the best tomato sauce he’d tasted to this day. Allowed to bathe after eating with no one nagging him about correct manners. Allowed to get up from the table and collect whatever he wanted from the pantry. To wind his arms around Grand-Mère’s neck and listen to her tell fascinating tales of her youth with her best friend, Violetta’s grandmother. To go to bed when he was tired and to speak when he had something to say and be listened to.

He glanced around.

His grandmother’s battered old CD-player still sat on the oak dresser and beside it a small stack of CDs. Perhaps when the staff had cleared the house, they hadn’t realised it was a personal item of the former and kept it to use themselves.

Violetta had found a glass and filled it with water from the tap. She gulped it down in one go then wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.

In that grand dress, fit for the princess she was, and with the emerald-strewn Elisabetha tiara on her head, it was yet another incongruous picture from today.

She shook the empty glass at him. ‘Would you like one?’

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