Harlequin Romance April 2015 Box Set (29 page)

She laughed softly. ‘You looked like you’d seen a ghost.’

Seb smiled back down at her, the warmth creeping back into her voice giving him a jolt of hope. ‘I couldn’t believe my luck. But I was terrified too. Of how you made me feel. How much I wanted you. There was nothing sensible about that. And the more I got to know you, Daisy, the more terrified I was.’

‘I’m that scary?’
A light had begun to shine in her eyes, the full mouth quivering.

‘You are quite frankly the most terrifying woman I have ever met—and I am including your mother in that. And if you ever begin to believe in yourself, Daisy Huntingdon-Cross, then I don’t think there is anything you won’t achieve. Because—’ he moved in slightly closer, emboldened by the curve of her smile ‘—you are definitely
the smartest out of the two of us. It took you leaving for me to acknowledge how I felt about you. But now that I have I want to tell you every day. Every hour of every day. I love you, Daisy, and I really, really hope that you will marry me in two days.’

With those words the load he had been carrying for so long, the fear, the shame, finally broke free. Whatever her answer he would always
be grateful to her for that—even if he had to spend the rest of his life proving the truth of his words to her.

‘You love me? You think I’m smart?’ Her voice broke and he dropped her chin to encircle her waist, pulling her in close. He inhaled the soft floral scent of her hair. It was like coming home.

‘Ridiculously so.’ Reluctantly he let her go, backing into the half-open door and
pushing it open, taking her hand and pulling her inside.

‘You’re not the only one to see that the house needs changing, needs making into a home. I can’t begin to match what you’ve achieved but I’m trying to make a start.’

Daisy stood stock-still, staring at the wall. Gone was the line of stern portraits; no more bewigged gentleman with terrifying eyebrows or stern Victorians with bristling
moustaches. Even Seb’s grandfather had been removed to a more fitting place in the long gallery.

Instead two huge canvas prints hung on the wall, surrounded by smaller black-and-white prints of Hawksley: the castle, the woods, the gardens. Her photos.

She looked up at the photos, eyes widening as she took in the photo of Seb. It was the one she’d taken of him in Oxford, the light behind
him. It felt hubristic having such a large picture of himself on his own wall.

But it wasn’t just his wall now.

Flanking him was another black-and-white photo, this time of Daisy—also at work. The trees framed her as she held the camera up to her face, her profile intent, her focus absolute.

‘Where...?’ She gaped up at the picture. ‘Where on earth did you get that?’

‘I took
it.’ Seb tried and failed to keep the pride out of his voice. ‘I had a moment in between those photobooth shots and I turned around—and there you were. Lost in the moment. So I snapped it. I saved it onto my computer, thought you might want it for your website or something.’

‘It’s actually pretty good, nice composition.’

‘Total and utter fluke,’ he admitted. ‘Daisy—’ he took her hands
in his ‘—I want the castle, every room, every decision we make to be about us. About you, me and the baby. I want to help you turn Hawksley into a family home. Into a house full of love and laughter. I asked you to marry me three weeks ago for all sorts of sensible reasons. I told you marriage was a business. I was a fool.

‘I want to marry you because I love you and I hope you love me. Because
I actually don’t think I can live without you—and I know I can’t survive without you. So, Daisy.’ Seb let go of her hands and took out the ring. The ring that had miraculously arrived by overnight courier, the ring that Daisy’s sister had somehow known to have ready.

Slowly, looking up into her face, he lowered himself onto one knee.

‘Daisy Huntingdon-Cross. Will you please, please marry
me?’

‘Get up!’ Daisy pulled him up, snaking her arms around his neck, smiling up at him, her eyes full of joy. ‘Well, the guests
are
already invited.’

‘They are.’

‘It would be a shame to waste my mother’s hard work.’

‘A real shame.’

‘And the chance to see my mother with a penis straw is not one to be passed up.’

Seb grimaced. ‘I can personally live without that image,
my love. But knock yourself out.’

‘Say that again.’

‘Knock yourself out?’

‘No, the name you called me.’

‘My love.’ Seb’s heart felt as if it might explode from his chest as he bent his head, ready to capture her mouth with his. ‘My love.’

EPILOGUE

‘R
EADY
, D
AISY
GIRL
?
’

Daisy pulled at the waist of her dress with nervous fingers before smiling up at her father.

‘Ready, Dad.’

‘Well, I’m not.’ Rick Cross’s eyes were suspiciously damp. ‘I don’t think I will ever be ready to walk you down that aisle and hand you over to another man.’

Violet rolled her eyes. ‘It’s the twenty-first century, Dad. Nobody
gets handed over.’

‘If anyone is in charge in this house, I’m sorry, I mean in this castle, it’s Daisy. I’ve only been here a few hours and even I can see she’s got that poor earl right under her thumb.’

Daisy stuck her tongue out at Rose. ‘How I wish I had made you wear frills.’

Her sisters looked stunning in the simple silk dresses she had chosen. The sweetheart necklines and
ruched bodices were white, flaring out into yellow knee-length skirts. Her dress had a similar bodice although instead of bare shoulders, hers were covered with a sheer lace and her floor-length skirt fell straight from the bust in a sweep of white silk to the floor.

‘And I wish I had made that ring too large.’ Rose nodded at the band made of twisted yellow gold, white gold petals alternating
with small diamonds that adorned Daisy’s left hand.

Daisy smiled down at the ring. ‘I don’t think you’ve ever made anything more lovely, Rose. I don’t know how you knew to make it but thank you.’

‘It goes better with your wedding ring,’ Rose said, but her eyes, so like Daisy’s own, were sparkling with pride. ‘You look beautiful, Daisy.’

‘Will Seb recognise you without a hat?’ Violet
tucked an errant curl behind Daisy’s ear and tweaked the flowers that held her twist of hair back into place. ‘There, perfect.’

‘You picked a good dress.’ Rose was looking her up and down. ‘Your boobs are a little bit bigger but otherwise you don’t look pregnant.’

‘I’m not showing yet!’ Daisy still couldn’t mention the pregnancy without blushing. She’d told her mother and sisters during
her hen night while Rose Skyped in; they had all been delighted. Especially as she hadn’t needed to lie to them—they weren’t just getting married because of the baby. They were getting married because they belonged together.

It was as simple and as wonderful as that.

* * *

Seb had expected to feel nervous. He was used to standing in front of large crowds, used to speaking in public.
But when he taught or lectured he put on a persona. This was him, raw and exposed, in tails and a yellow cravat, ready to pledge his troth to the woman he loved.

He bit back a wry smile. He was even using her terminology now.

Sherry sat at the front, resplendent in something very structured and rigid. Seb knew very little about fashion but he was aware she was wearing something very
expensive that mere mortals would never be able to carry off.

The buzz of voices came to a sudden stop as the band struck up one of Rick’s most famous tunes, a song he had composed soon after Daisy’s birth. The familiar chords sounded even more poignant than ever as a violin picked up the vocal lines, soaring up into the beams as one of the twins, Seb had no idea which one, solemnly began
to walk down the central aisle followed by the other.

And then his heart stopped as Daisy appeared. All in white except for her red lipstick and the bouquet of daisies, her eyes shining and a trembling smile on her lips. His fiancée, his bride, the mother of his baby.

Two months ago he was struggling on alone. Now he had a family, hope, joy. He had a future.

He smiled as a camera
flashed from the back of the hall. Let them take photos, let them publish them everywhere and anywhere. He was the luckiest man alive and he was happy for the whole world to know.

* * * * *

Keep reading for an excerpt from BEST MAN FOR THE BRIDESMAID by Jennifer Faye.

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CHAPTER ONE

A
LWAYS
A
BRIDESMAID
...

Jules Lane lifted her chin and smiled broadly.

Her steps grew quicker as she made her way past the other departing passengers. At last she was in Rome. Rome, Italy, to be exact. She continued to grin and resisted the urge to pinch herself just to make sure this wasn’t a dream.

On the other hand, this wasn’t exactly a vacation. She
was here for an important job—to help plan her foster sister’s wedding. This wouldn’t be Jules’s first time down the aisle. She’d been a bridesmaid more times than she could count on one hand.

However, this time around she had the privilege of being the maid of honor. It was a role she eagerly anticipated. She liked to take charge—to provide order to chaos. She wasn’t a closet romantic. She
didn’t dream about finding Prince Charming. She didn’t fantasize about her “big day.” But she did have a thing for pretty dresses and cake—cake was definitely her weakness.

Actually now that she thought about it, Lizzie, her foster sister, hadn’t been into romance, either...at least not until she’d flown here three months ago for a television show—a reality segment about cooking. Cupid sure
seemed to have hit the mark with Lizzie and Dante.

For most of Jules’s life, Lizzie had been the keeper of her secrets, her protector and her only family. Jules loved her with all her heart. But that security came with a steep price tag for both of them—learning at an early age that they only had each other to lean on.

Now it was time for a change—if only Jules could find a way to tell
Lizzie her news.

Jules sighed as she made her way through the Leonardo da Vinci terminal. She’d find the right time. She just had to have patience.

The strap of her carry-on dug into her shoulder, and she struggled to adjust it. The black-and-white cloth bag was weighted down with a wedding planner, a big bag of sour candies and plenty of bridal magazines with dog-eared pages and sticky
notes. She had everything necessary to plan the perfect wedding—except for one very important but necessary ingredient: caffeine. But no worries—Lizzie had been raving about the delicious coffee Rome had to offer.

Considering no details about the wedding had been tacked down, there would be long conversations over this now-infamous coffee. First, they had to nail down a wedding date. Jules
was thinking a spring wedding next year. It’d be perfect as Lizzie had mentioned something about an Italian vineyard as the backdrop. Talk about some amazing photos.

This wedding-planning stuff shouldn’t be too hard. After all, Jules had most of it memorized by this point. Now she’d be able to put all of that knowledge to good use.

Boisterous voices filled the terminal as friends greeted
each other. An American family called frantically for their son, who stood ten steps away checking out the cell phones that a beautiful woman with long dark hair and a brilliant smile was eager to show the teenager. Jules took it all in as she strode through the congested concourse, following the signs to the baggage claim.

She couldn’t wait to see Lizzie. It felt like an eternity since they’d
seen each other. And she was looking forward to meeting her future brother-in-law, Dante. Lizzie swore the photos she’d emailed didn’t do him justice. That was hard to believe since Jules had found him quite handsome.

She walked over to the luggage carousel, hoping her suitcase had made the journey and hadn’t been lost along the way. All the while, she kept glancing around for Lizzie. Where
could she be? It wasn’t like her to be late.

Jules’s gaze strayed across to a tall dark-haired man at the other end of the luggage return area. He spoke to a pretty young woman, who shook her head and turned away. And then he moved on to the next young woman. What was that all about?

Jules shrugged and turned away. She pulled the phone from her pocket, hoping a message from Lizzie would
pop up, but instead a dead battery symbol flashed on the screen and then everything went black. Jules sighed. This couldn’t be happening to her while she was all alone in a foreign country. She’d charged it before she left New York, hadn’t she?

“
Scusi.
Are you Ms. Lane?” A deep male voice immediately drew her attention.

She turned to find the same dark-haired man speaking to a woman
a couple of people down from her. Was he looking for her? How did he know her name?

When the blonde woman wearing a pastel flowered dress shook her head, he moved on. He skipped over an older woman, not even bothering to ask her. And then his gaze skimmed over Jules’s pigtails, long-sleeved black top, purple-and-black plaid miniskirt and knee-high platform black boots. His facial expression
remained neutral, but he didn’t say a word to her as he moved on down the line.

Seriously?
He was that put off by her appearance that he wasn’t even going to speak to her? She turned her back to him. Then she realized he might have a message from Lizzie. Jules turned back around.

He stopped at the next young woman. “
Scusi
, are you Julianne—”

“Hey, mister.” When he turned to her
with a raised brow, she had to fight back a laugh. “I’m Julianne Lane.”

He apologized to the young lady before backtracking and stopping directly in front of Jules. His forehead was creased. “
Signorina
, you are Lizzie’s sister?”

She nodded. Her pigtails bobbed. He wasn’t the first person to be surprised by her unconventional appearance. She’d given up a long time ago trying to live up
to everyone’s expectations. And she’d been dressing this way so long now that it came naturally.

The same couldn’t be said about him. He looked as if he’d just walked off the cover of a men’s fashion magazine. His navy blue suit was perfectly tailored to show off his broad shoulders, and the gray dress shirt was unbuttoned just enough to show off a hint of his muscular chest.

Jules swallowed
hard.
Wow!
No wonder Lizzie lost her heart here. They sure made them hot and sexy in Italy.

With effort, she forced her gaze upward to meet his serious stare. “Is there a problem?”

“Umm...no.” The lines on his forehead smoothed. “Lizzie is your sister, isn’t she?”

Jules’s chest tightened. “Yes. Is she all right?”

His dark brows rose as his warm brown eyes seemed to hold her
captive. “Yes, she is.”

Jules breathed out a pent-up breath. “Don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“Scare me. I thought something had happened to my sister.”

“I assure you that she’s perfectly fine. But something came up and she asked me to pick you up.”

“You should have said that part first.” She glanced over at the luggage carousel, which had started to move. Before she could
ask him anymore questions, the luggage appeared on the conveyor belt. “I’ll be right with you. I just need to grab my bag.”

She could feel the man’s curious gaze boring into her back. She wondered what he was thinking, but something told her she was better off not knowing.

And then her black suitcase with the large white circle pattern dropped onto the conveyer belt. She shifted her
carry-on so that it was resting against her back and out of her way to grab the large piece of luggage.

As she reached for it, the man stepped between her and the belt. “Let me grab that for you. Which is it?”

“Don’t bother. I’ve got it.” She didn’t need him going out of his way for her. She wasn’t some spoiled rich girl. Not by anyone’s imagination. She’d been taking care of herself
for a long time. Maybe that’s what always scared men off. She didn’t need them.

The man’s eyes widened as he backed away. “Ms. Lane, I only meant to help.”

She grabbed the suitcase and swung it around to place it on the floor beside her. “I appreciate your offer, but I’m used to taking care of myself. And, by the way, I prefer to go by Jules. Who would you be?”

“I’m Stefano DeFiore.
Dante’s older brother.”

Lizzie had mentioned in passing that Dante had a brother, but she’d never mentioned how good-looking he was or that he would be meeting her at the airport. “Nice to meet you.”

She smiled and stuck out her hand. He hesitated for a moment before glancing quickly to the left and then to the right before his hand encased hers. Was he looking around to see if anyone
noticed that he hadn’t gotten her luggage for her? Really? He was that worried about what everyone thought?

And then the smile slipped from her face. Her stomach plummeted. She realized the real reason for his awkwardness. He was embarrassed to be seen with her.

What kind of family was Lizzie marrying into?

* * *

Stefano DeFiore found himself
utterly mesmerized—and that was
something that he never let happen.

He struggled to keep his gaze anywhere but on the delicate tiny blue—or was it purple?—butterfly body art flirting with the beginning of the swell of her breasts...just above the diving neckline of her black top. He found it and her absolutely fascinating. And that was not good.

He swallowed hard and drew his focus back up to her face. His brother
and his soon-to-be sister-in-law should have picked up Jules—not him. But family takes care of family.

Jules was undeniably intriguing but not in the usual manner. Her goth style was unique, to say the least. And then there was the purplish lipstick, heavy black eyeliner and the stuff on her eyelashes that set off her look. He was anxious to see the woman beneath it all.

He certainly
didn’t know what to make of Julianne—erm—Jules. Lizzie hadn’t given any hints that her sister was so different from her in every way. Lizzie was tall, fair and blonde; Jules was the opposite. She was shorter in stature with dark brown hair in twin ponytails and long sweeping bangs that she brushed off to the side.

Realizing he was staring, he said, “We should get moving. Lizzie should be
done with her meeting when we get there.”

“Get where?” Jules eyed him as though she wasn’t planning to budge.

She didn’t trust him. It was a new experience for him. There had been a time in his life when he didn’t have a problem putting the female persuasion at ease. But he wasn’t exactly acting like the old smooth-talking guy he used to be. Things had changed a lot in recent years.

Combine that with his concerns over his younger brother’s sudden wedding announcement and the fact that he’d been elected to play chauffeur today without so much as waiting for him to agree and he was left feeling out of sorts.

Stefano swallowed down his agitation and tried to soften his tone. “I’m dropping you off at Dante’s place, Ristorante Massimo. It’s not that far from here.”

She gave him one last hard look as though making up her mind about him. “Sounds like a plan. Let’s get moving.”

He reached for her suitcase but then hesitated, recalling how she’d expressed her desire to remain independent. He returned his hand to his side as she extended the handle on her luggage. He merely shook his head and turned away. His lack of understanding where women were concerned
had cost him dearly not so long ago. Since then he’d learned to refrain from flirting with them. Relationships were a thing of the past for him.

So then why did he find Jules so intriguing? He couldn’t help casting her the occasional glance. It had to be her pigtails. Did grown women really wear those? He smiled. They did look cute on her.

But it was the butterfly that kept him distracted.
He pictured it in his mind’s eye. He had to admit that he’d never been intrigued by a tattoo before. His late wife had had a fear of needles, so getting any sort of body art wasn’t even a possibility. And they’d lived out in the country where that sort of thing wasn’t popular in the nearby village.

When his shoulder collided with someone, he glanced up.
“Scusi.”

He could feel Jules’s
gaze on him, but he pretended not to notice. He wasn’t about to let on that her little butterfly had him distracted to the point of not watching where he was walking. After all, he was a DeFiore. DeFiores didn’t allow themselves to be distracted.

Once they were situated in his sleek black luxury sedan, which he only used when escorting around special guests of the DeFiore Vineyard, he turned
to Jules. Her body was stiff and her hands were clasped in her lap. He supposed that was to be expected. He hadn’t exactly made her feel welcome. He really needed to try harder. After all, it was important to Dante that this visit go well.

Stefano was about to say something when that darn butterfly once again snagged his attention. It rose and fell with her every breath. He was being ridiculous.
It was just an inconsequential tattoo—that teased and taunted him.

He turned and stared blindly out the windshield. “Is this your first trip to Rome?”

“Yes, it is.” Jules turned to him, but he kept his gaze directly ahead. “What happened? I mean, Lizzie was supposed to pick me up.”

“She didn’t tell you?”

“No. My phone battery died, so I haven’t been able to talk to her.”

This was his chance to see what Jules thought of the impending nuptials. He was curious to see if she thought they were a bit rushed. “When Dante called, he said that the announcement of their engagement made a big splash with the paparazzi, and the studio heads wanted to figure out how to work the wedding into an upcoming show.”

“What does their wedding have to do with a cooking show?”

“My thoughts exactly. Maybe it’ll delay the wedding.”

“Why would you say that?” Suspicion laced every syllable.

This is where he had to move carefully. He sensed Jules’s defenses kicking into gear, and he didn’t blame her. He’d react the same way if he thought someone was about to jeopardize his brother’s happiness.

Again Jules’s taunting butterfly came to mind as well as her
different taste in clothes. Something told him that she wasn’t a traditionalist like his family was. Maybe she was one of those live-on-a-whim types? Even if it meant letting people set themselves up to get hurt?

Like he’d done to himself.

Like he’d done to his late wife.