Page 4 of Stranded with His Runaway Bride

Only for him to discover the next morning that she’d run off. A month later she was married to her ex-bodyguard. Going to the chateau with him had simply been a way for her to escape the watchful eyes of her father and the San Nicolo security team.

Leo’s humiliation had been complete, and his father’s rage and censure had been blistering. But he’d learned his lesson well. He’d never trust a woman again.

The last section of road climbed upwards to the chateau itself. The road had become rutted, the winters having taken their toll. So intent was he on his destination he missed the deep pothole. Sadly, the car did not. On a shudder and with a sickening grinding noise he came to an abrupt halt.

Leo flung the door wide and climbed out into the July heat. He’d be completing his journey on foot. With a curse he set off, sweating already in his wedding regalia.

The woman had better be at the end of this track.

Then the chateau appeared from behind the trees. Somewhere Grand-Mère had laughingly called the summer house but Chateau Elisabetha had three floors, nine guest bedrooms and a ballroom lined with mirrors and finely painted figures of dancing couples. An elegant white limestone chateau, nestled in its own valley with lush green foothills behind, extensive gardens on all sides and its own boathouse and jetty on the lake. His grandmother’s summer residence. She and her husband had originally bought the place when their daughter had married the ruling prince and when she was widowed, his grandmother had spent every summer there to be close to her.

Leo hadn’t expected the rush of memories as he approached. That it would look pretty much just as he’d remembered. Before he’d turned fourteen, and fate had taken a different turn and holidays with his grandmother had instantly ceased.

The gardens were a little more overgrown than Grand-Mère used to keep them, but even there she was a lover of nature, letting every kind of lost, loveless creature find a home—including him once—so she might have approved of the meadow of wildflowers that had taken over the lawns.

He could see her now. On that terrace, overlooking the lake. Drinking schnapps by candlelight and listening to Buena Vista Social Club. With her beloved rescue dogs by her side. Various mutts missing a leg or an ear, or with a broken doggy heart that she somehow fixed. All once unloved creatures, given the best of homes in this chateau.

Sometimes other guests had joined them. Like that last summer he’d spent there, when the grandchildren of her best friend had been invited to the house for two weeks.

Girls. One so young and tiny he and Seb had dubbed herla fée, the fairy. He remembered she’d followed him around like a puppy. To a thirteen-year-old boy a small girl had been beneath his dignity, and he’d found a way to chase her off.

Then came that last visit, three years ago. When the chateau was his. Left to him in his grandmother’s will.

The night he’d spent here with Francesca, the elder of those two girls.

What a debacle that had turned out to be.

But despite all that, it was still a house that held a touch of magic. It wound its way around him now.

He fought it off. Now was not the time for pointless sentiment. It had never served him well in the past and he didn’t need it for what he was about to do.

The florist’s van sat abandoned at the side of the building. A large sunhat, gauzy scarf and sunglasses stuffed on the dash. Probably also stolen from the florist. That would explain how his bride had driven from the castle unchallenged. She’d disguised herself.

Leo strode on. His determination building with each step. He’d caught up with her. Now to put a stop to this nonsense and persuade her to return with him.

CHAPTER TWO

VIOLETTAHEARDTHEroar of the high-powered engine, cutting through the quiet, then the abrupt, grinding stop followed by the slam of a car door.

She dropped the receiver back into its cradle. No time to wait for Luisa to pick up the phone now.

From the window she saw a glossy red sports car hunkered under the trees. But whoever had climbed out of it had already disappeared into a dip in the drive and was lost from view.

How had they found her so quickly?

She hurried to throw back a dust sheet and perched in the middle of a long, high-backed chaise. Hoping she looked thoroughly regal and unassailable. Knowing if she stood, her trembling would show her to be the exact opposite.

Her heart pounding, she waited.

First came the crunch of booted feet on gravel.

Then the heavy strike of leather soles on the flagstones of the hallway.

She straightened her spine and stared resolutely ahead. Whoever had come for her, she was determined she would not be going back with them. Then inhewalked, and she fought to hide her shock. Never expecting that her forbidding groom would bother to come after her himself.

Violetta stared at the man filling the doorway. The man her sister had exiled herself to avoid marrying. How had Francesca described him? Like a half-tamed wolf: prowling, watchful and ever hungry. That was exactly the man who stood there now.

He was tall. He certainly always towered over her. Six feet two, she’d been told, when they’d determined what height heels she’d be permitted to wear at joint functions. At least three inches. Elevating her diminutive five feet two to the optimum height. The delicate bride to his alpha male prince, making the photos of the two of them together look perfect.

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