Her Wildest Wedding Dreams

Struggling to clear the clouds of regret from his brain, he turned onto the main highway, heading east, toward home. He was going to avoid the high speeds of the interstate, keep to the secondary highways and stop as often as possible to stretch Royal Pleasure’s legs. That beauty was an integral part of his plans for Raybourne Farms. She had cost him the better part of his bank balance, and he wasn’t taking any chances with her.

The sun was fast revealing the East Texas landscape. He shook his head. Some people might find this land appealing, but he’d take the rolling green meadows of Middle Tennessee any day.

He rested his elbow on the open window. A squeak sounded from behind. Followed by another. And still another. He eased up on the accelerator and leaned back, listening intently, then peered in the side mirror for signs of trouble with the trailer. He saw nothing.

Once more Noah relaxed and began to whistle.

Hours passed before the squeak returned. Then grew in volume. And Noah recognized the sound for what it was—the insistent yapping of a dog.

“What the hell?” He carefully eased the truck and trailer off the road, got out and hurried around to throw open the door at the back of the truck.

He heard a shout of warning.

Something small and furry bounced against his chest, sending him stumbling against the trailer. Then something else barreled past Noah. It was a boy…no, those breasts and that rounded rear end were most definitely feminine. They belonged to a young woman. She was dressed in jeans, T-shirt and baseball cap and was calling, “Puddin’, you stupid dog. Puddin’! Come here.”

Noah straightened in time to peer around the truck and see the dog relieve itself in a patch of grass beside the road.

“Oh, Puddin’,” the young woman crooned. Two long, red braids escaped from her cap as she stooped to stroke the little mutt’s head. “I’m sorry, girl. I know you couldn’t hold it another minute.”

The dog barked up at her mistress, then raced around her and made straight for Noah. Looking like an animated ball of long, silky fur, she circled his boots, fussing at him in her squeaky, high-pitched bark.

Noah looked from dog to woman and back again. At any minute he expected a video camera to emerge from around the trailer and some smarmy TV personality to announce he was the subject of an elaborate scheme.

Instead, the young woman tugged on the brim of her baseball cap and darted nervous glances toward the highway, where a car swished past.

Noah began, “Who the hell are—”

The young woman cut him short by grabbing her dog and ducking between the trailer and the camper to the other side of the truck. “Let’s get off the road!”

Noah had little choice but to follow. On the other side he caught hold of her arm. “What were you and this…” He glared at the dog, who peered up at him through its long hair, some of which was held back by silly, girlish hair bows. Useless creature, Noah thought, before returning to his demand, “What were you and this dog doing in my trailer?”

The stowaway offered a senseless explanation about mistaking his camper for her own, falling asleep and awakening when the dog started barking.

“You’ll have to do better than that. What are you up to?” His eyes narrowed in suspicion. “Have you done something to my horse?”

He set her away from him and stalked around to throw open the doors to the spacious trailer. It made no sense that she could have gotten from the trailer to the camper without his knowledge, but he had to check.

Royal Pleasure whinnied and danced around a bit, but otherwise seemed just fine. Noah patted her reassuringly, then exited the trailer, eager for the explanation the redhead owed him. To his surprise she was hightailing it through the weeds beside the road, heading for a stand of trees nearby.

He was tempted to let her go. She had obviously been up to no good, stowing away in his camper like some little thief. She probably was a thief. The possibility made his blood run cold. Right now, she probably had something that belonged to Roger Franklin, a man who had his home barricaded like a castle keep. A man who might assume Noah was the real thief or in cahoots with her.

“Hey,” Noah shouted as he sprinted after her. “You come back here.”

She darted a glance over her shoulder but kept moving, her dog barking up a storm in her arms.

Overtaking her took only a few moments. She was such a little thing, Noah brought her to a halt simply by catching the hem of her T-shirt.

Brought round to face him, she pleaded, “Please just let me go. I didn’t hurt anything. I just needed a ride.”

“You needed to sneak off the Franklin ranch.” Noah anchored her in place with a firm grip on her shoulders. “What are you running from?”

Her brown-eyed gaze wouldn’t quite meet his. “I just had to get out of there.”

“Why? What’d you steal?”

“Steal?” she sputtered. “You think I’m a thief?”

“Why else would you be running away like this?”

Olivia remained silent, desperately searching for an explanation.

The man gave her a little shake. “What is it? What are you running from?”

“My father.” The words burst out of her without preamble or thought.

Her captor’s blue eyes narrowed. “Your father?”

“I just can’t stand it any longer. I had to get away from him.”

The grip on her shoulders loosened somewhat. “Why? What’s the problem with him?”

“He…just…” Olivia swallowed hard, not certain what to say. She was a terrible liar. The few times she had tried, she had been found out instantly. But somehow she had to convince this man to let her go. She doubted that would happen if he found out she was Roger Franklin’s daughter. And if she had to go back now…

“What?” the stranger prompted.

Olivia’s heart knocked hard against her chest as she struggled for words. She had come too far to mess up. Getting out of the house in the early hours of the morning had been a minor miracle. She had escaped through a window she had left open in the library, falling hard on her right arm and almost crushing poor Puddin’. But when no lights came on nor alarms sounded, she realized the security system wasn’t fully engaged, possibly due to the party and the caterers who were still loading equipment and cleaning up near the kitchen entrance.

Aided by her knowledge of the outside security cameras and the schedule of the guards who patrolled the grounds each night, she had crept behind bushes on the perimeter of the yard and through the deepest of shadows to the stables.

Even then, she hadn’t a clear plan as to how she would get off the ranch. She was considering saddling a horse and riding out when she had noticed the horse breeder’s trailer. Remembering her father saying Royal Pleasure’s new owner would be leaving first thing in the morning, she had taken what seemed like her best chance and stowed away. She had been hoping to sneak out of the camper when he stopped for gasoline or to exercise Royal Pleasure.

Bringing Puddin’ had been a risk, and most likely a mistake. Yet leaving her only friend in the world had been impossible. Olivia couldn’t do it. And truly, the dog had been so quiet, so good. Until she simply had to go to the bathroom.

The horse breeder still regarded her with open hostility. “I don’t believe this nonsense about running from your father.”

“But it’s true,” Olivia protested, relieved that she didn’t have to lie. “I had to get away from him.”

“He works for Franklin?”

“Yes…in…in the stables,” she prevaricated. “As a trainer.”

“And he hurt you?” An emotion that could have been sympathy flickered across the man’s face.

“Yes, he hurt me.” At least that much wasn’t a lie, Olivia thought. Her father had hurt her.

“But why would you have to hide to get away?”

“My father would never willingly let me go.”

Looking even more suspicious, one of her captor’s hands slipped from her shoulder down her arm, the arm she had fallen on in her escape. Olivia winced and looked down. For the first time she noticed the purple bruise that started just below the hem of her sleeve.

The man saw it, too. Gently he pushed the sleeve up. The bruise stretched from near her elbow to her shoulder.

Muttering a curse, the man dropped her arm and stepped away. “Did your father do this to you?”

“He…he made me fall,” Olivia said. “He pushed you?”

She nodded.

The breeder peered at her again, clearly torn between believing and doubting her story. “How old are you?” he asked at last. “Over eighteen, I imagine.”

“Yes.”

“There’s no reason why you couldn’t just have left.”

“You don’t understand,” she explained, feeling desperate. “My father, he’s…nuts. I was so scared of him, so afraid.”

“You could have told someone. Told Jake or Mr. Franklin.”

She forced out a laugh. “You think a rich, important man like that would care about me?”

“Roger Franklin strikes me as a decent man. He’d care if one of his employees was beating his daughter.”

“Yeah, he’d fire my father, and I’d get blamed.”

“No, you would have gotten help.” The breeder shook his head. “There’s some other reason you’re running.” He took hold of her uninjured arm. “Come on back to the truck. We’re going to find a telephone and call the ranch.”

Olivia struggled to free herself, her eyes filling with tears. In her arms Puddin’ whined. She could not go back. The very fact that they had made it this far meant she had something of a head start.

“Please,” she begged. “Please believe me. I have to get away from my father. I can’t stand it any longer. Please.” Olivia didn’t want to break down completely, but hysteria rose inside her. She fought the sobs and started to tremble.

“Jeez.” The breeder’s forehead creased, and he thrust a hand through wavy, light-brown hair. “You really are scared to death, aren’t you?”

Olivia nodded while Puddin’ licked her trembling chin.

The man stared at her hard for a few moments more while she struggled to bring herself under control. He seemed like a kind person. Handsome in a strong, hard-planed sort of way. Clearly he sympathized with her somewhat, else he would have already hauled her back to the camper and locked her in.

Olivia focused on playing on that sympathy. “I’m so…sorry I hid in your camper. I’m not a thief. I just need a break. Please. Just drive away and leave us here. Please.”

Noah was tempted to do just that. Something told him this young woman wasn’t a thief. But something in her story didn’t strike him as quite right, either. The best thing he could do for himself was get in the truck and drive away.

And that’s exactly what he was going to do.

“You’ve got a deal, little lady. If anybody ever asks me, I’ll tell them I’ve never seen you before.” He jerked a thumb over his shoulder, toward the truck. “You got anything in the camper?”

“A small bag.”

He swung the door wide open and retrieved a small, and to his admittedly inexperienced eye, expensive-looking tote bag. He thought about searching it for stolen jewelry, but decided he didn’t want to know if she was hiding something. He just wanted to get back on the road.

He rooted in a cooler and found two bottled waters. Outside, he handed everything over to her. “Here you go.”

She swiped at the tears on her cheeks before taking the bag and the water. “Thank you so much. I’m sorry I’ve delayed you. You’ve really been so kind.”

Her choice of words didn’t strike Noah as those of a stable hand’s daughter. Determinedly, he slammed the door on his doubts. Giving her a little salute, he went around the trailer to make sure the door was secured. He closed and locked the camper door, as well, then climbed into the truck.

His stowaway had moved just ahead of him on the road, where she struggled to fit the water bottles into her bag while holding on to her dog. She looked small and awkward.

Noah’s conscience pinched him hard.

He leaned out the window. “You be careful.”

“I will,” she shouted back.

He waved. He even started the truck. But he didn’t move.

Ahead of him, she started walking. Her determined strides did nothing to disguise the downright tempting curves of her behind.

“Just let her go,” Noah told his reflection in the mirror.

And leave her and that useless dog alone on this stretch of highway?

“They’ll be just fine.”

If they don’t meet up with a rattlesnake.

“A snake would run the other way.”

But some pervert in a rusted-out pickup just might want a piece of her cute little butt.

Noah closed his eyes for a moment, trying not to think about that bruise on her arm or her tears when she said she’d been hurt by her father. God knew, he understood that kind of pain. He just wished his dear mother had not worked so hard to instill a sense of honor in him. Finally he let out a long breath, eased the truck into drive and leaned out the window, calling, “Hey, come here.”

She hurried up to the window. The hope mingling with fear on her face was more than he could stand.

“All right,” he muttered. “I’ve got this terrible feeling that I’m going to regret this, but here’s what we’re going to do. First, you get in the truck.”

She frowned, as if she didn’t understand him.

“Get in the truck, and at the next town you can catch a bus somewhere.” She gave him a blank look. “You do want to get on a bus or something, don’t you? There was some destination in mind when you set out on this little trip?”

Though she nodded, her expression gave her away.

“She has no idea where she’s going,” he muttered as she came around to the passenger side. “No clue. Just her and that damn dog, tearing off like Dorothy and Toto on the yellow brick road.”

“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” she gushed as she climbed in beside him. “I was willing to walk, but this will be so much quicker and easier.”

The dog jumped onto the seat, then leaped up and licked Noah’s cheek.

He groaned. The dog barked and tried for a second lick.

“Just keep the mutt under control,” Noah ordered.

She pulled the dog onto her lap. “Her name’s Puddin’.”

“And your name?”

She hesitated. Briefly. But long enough for Noah to figure she was lying. “Libby. Libby Kay.”

“I’m Noah,” he said, offering a handshake. The hand she placed in his was soft as silk, with nails finely manicured. Not exactly the hands of a working man’s daughter.

“And your last name?” she prompted.

“Gullible as hell,” Noah murmured as he pulled back onto the road. “Just call me gullible as hell.”

Chapter Two

“You need to eat.”

Noah’s comment penetrated Olivia’s nervous preoccupation with the other diners in the small restaurant where they had stopped for lunch.

“Eat,” he instructed, as he had done periodically since the waitress had placed the meat loaf-and-three-vegetable special in front of her.

Olivia knew she should be hungry enough to clean her plate, but who could think about food when at any moment a car of “suits” could drive up. She hadn’t wanted to stop at all, but Noah had insisted.

She shot a nervous glance outside, where Puddin’ waited in a truck cab cooled by a lowered window. Noah had also insisted the diner wouldn’t welcome a dog, even a small one. Olivia wanted to wait in the truck with her pet, but Noah would have none of that, either. She was discovering her driver/rescuer was one bossy individual.

“How y’all doin’?” The hippy, flirtatious waitress sidled up to their table, as she had done at least a half dozen times. Her black-lacquered eyelashes fluttered in Noah’s direction.

He grinned and held out his coffee cup. “Sure could use a refill.”

She obliged with a simper that set Olivia’s teeth on edge.

“You through, honey?” The waitress nodded at Olivia’s plate.

“She’s still working on it,” Noah replied in his irritatingly superior tone.

She set her fork down. “Actually, I am finished.”

Without asking, Noah ordered two pieces of coconut cream pie. Olivia protested. He offered her a quelling glance.

The waitress tittered and retreated, ample backside swaying in her pink gingham uniform.

Olivia sighed her frustration. “We really shouldn’t leave Puddin’ out there like this.”

“The dog is fine. I’m not in the business of cruelty to animals.”

“But still—”

“A person of limited means ought not to waste a free meal.”

“I can pay for my own food,” Olivia protested.

Noah looked skeptical as he lifted his mug. “Better save your money for later, when no one might be offering to feed you.” He savored a long sip of coffee. “Just out of curiosity, how much money do you have?”

“Enough,” was Olivia’s evasive reply. In the two hours since he had agreed to take her to a bus station, Noah had done his best to dig information out of her. Where was she going? Did she have relatives she could call? How was she going to support herself? Of course, Olivia had told him nothing. Besides resenting his authoritative, prying manner, she didn’t know the answer.

She had a vague notion about heading for Chicago. Just after college, she had spent part of one summer in a program at Chicago’s Art Institute. A “suit” had been enrolled in the class, as well, to watch over her at all times, but still she had managed to enjoy the experience. She had made some contacts that summer that her father might not think to check right away. Maybe one of those acquaintances could help her land a job. Teaching perhaps. Working with children. She planned to take whatever job she could find. She had a first-class education. Surely that would count for something.

It had better. She had exactly $448.92 in her pocket, money scrounged from various handbags in her closet. A pair of diamond stud earrings and an opal ring were also in her tote bag.

She had left her engagement ring on her nightstand, and the rest of her jewelry had been locked in a safe. She didn’t feel right about taking any of it. She had left her credit cards behind, as well, not only because cash transactions would be harder to trace, but because she needed to do this on her own. She hoped the cash would get her on a bus and pay for a few days of expenses before she had to sell the jewelry. She wasn’t going straight to Chicago, because that would be too easy to trace. She thought she would head northwest, then south, then to the east.

The waitress brought their pie, and to keep Noah off her back, Olivia downed her slice quickly. He, on the other hand, took his own sweet time.

“I could go for another slice,” he said at last.

That was all Olivia could take. She scrambled out of the booth despite his protests. “I’ll see you in the truck.”

She stopped off in the rest room and frowned at her reflection in the mirror. The braids and absence of makeup made her look like a kid, an image enhanced by the rumpled T-shirt and jeans. Maybe her childish appearance was the reason Noah spoke to her as if she was a ninny. But the disguise might help her, as well. If anyone showed her photograph around this diner, surely the pigtailed ragamuffin she appeared to be wouldn’t be associated with the well-dressed and coiffed Olivia Franklin.

A glance at her watch showed ten past noon. By now, she imagined the ranch was in a full-scale panic. It being her wedding day, she was certain no one would have been surprised when she didn’t appear early in the morning. It had probably been at least ten—over three hours after Noah’s truck had left the ranch—before Mary went to her room and found her gone.

Hopefully her father and the “suits” had latched on to the false trail she had attempted to leave—the reservation she had made on an early-morning flight out of Austin. The address book opened to an acquaintance from school who now lived in Madrid.

None of that would fool them for long. But surely they would chase those leads and talk to the caterers, who had not left the premises until the early hours of the morning. If she was lucky it would be a while before they considered Noah as the means of her escape.

By the time they launched a search for him, she hoped he would be on his way to Tennessee and she would be bound for Chicago by the most circuitous route possible. Which meant she needed to get on a bus—quickly.

This diner was a bus stop, but the next bus due in was only heading for the terminal in the county seat, which the waitress said was just twenty miles up the road. Olivia had pushed for Noah to keep going. But he had suggested…no, he had insisted they eat first, before he drove her on to the terminal.

After one last grimace at her reflection, Olivia settled her baseball cap on her head, pulled open the door and found herself face-to-face with a Texas state trooper.

Terror rooted her to the spot. Dear God, how could they have found her so soon?

“S’cuse me.” The female officer stood back to allow Olivia to pass. The woman smiled, appearing altogether normal, as her polished brass buttons and badge gleamed.

Olivia forced her feet to move and kept her eyes turned downward as she slipped around the officer and into the diner’s small vestibule. When she looked up, fear clutched at her stomach. Another trooper and two other uniformed lawmen were chatting with the hostess while waiting for a table to be cleared.

Not running out of the restaurant took all of Olivia’s restraint. She pushed open the door, trying to appear casual and unconcerned before jogging across the parking lot toward the truck.

Puddin’ greeted her with a friendly bark and jumped into her arms when the passenger door opened. “Get back inside,” Olivia instructed. “Don’t let anyone see you.”

Instead, the dog leaped free and bounded around the truck, barking up a storm while Olivia gave chase. On the other side of the trailer they both came to a halt as a sheriff’s patrol car slipped into a nearby parking space. Olivia fought the urge to scream.

Didn’t these police officers have anything more important to do than hang out here eating pie?

Not even acknowledging this officer’s presence, she simply snatched Puddin’ up and stalked back around the trailer. “I should have left you home, you rowdy mutt. You’re going to ruin everything for both of us.”

Noah, who was walking toward her, gave her an odd look as she climbed in the cab. He paused. “Everything all right?”

She nodded, watching the sheriff’s deputy enter the diner. “I’m ready to go.”

“I’m going to let the horse stretch her legs a bit.”

“Here?” The word came out as a shriek.

Noah regarded her with narrowed blue eyes. “What’s wrong with here?”

Casting nervous glances toward the diner where five officers where now ensconced, she scrambled for a reason. “I doubt that they want horse poop in the parking lot.”

He gave a disgusted snort. “Like I would do something like that.” He pulled the door open. “Get out. You can help me.”

“Me?”

“Surely you know something about scraping up horse poop.”

She wished she could tell him where to stick his horse poop and his domineering manner. But he had helped her. And she still needed him.

So she left Puddin’ in the truck and followed Noah, thankful at least to have the trailer between herself and the diner’s windows.

Seeing Royal Pleasure again was a joy, of course. The horse nickered and nuzzled Olivia with her velvety nose.

“You work with her at Franklin’s place?” Noah asked as they walked the horse through the parking lot. Away from the diner, thank God.

Trying desperately not to keep looking toward the diner, Olivia nodded. “Pleasure’s the sweetest horse.”

“And she breeds champions.”

“Which is why you bought her.”

“She belongs on my farm.”

“Belongs?” Olivia shot him a quizzical look. “Why?”

He shrugged, his handsome features hardening. “Long story.”