Her Wildest Wedding Dreams

Olivia didn’t push, though she studied her companion thoughtfully. Because her father had been dealing in horses for as long as she could remember, she had met plenty of breeders. Noah Raybourne looked more like a wrangler than the owner of a farm.

He was young. Probably in his early thirties. Tall and well built, he had the kind of shoulders that come from continuous hard work. His light-brown hair needed a trim, curling over his forehead and the collar of his worn denim shirt. His jaw was clean-shaven and square, and along with his generous mouth and nose, made for a strong profile. His face was altogether and emphatically male. Except for the long, dark lashes fringing his blue eyes. He wore his clothes with the casual unconcern of a working man. He hardly looked affluent enough to have purchased an animal like Royal Pleasure.

Curiosity getting the better of her, Olivia asked, “This farm you’re talking about. It’s really yours?”

“My grandfather started it. My father worked it. Now it’s mine.”

“Your father’s retired?”

“He died.” The terse answer invited no further comment from Olivia.

Noah walked Royal Pleasure a couple of times around the parking lot. And to Olivia’s relief he merely asked her to lead the mare back to the trailer while he used a shovel and bucket to clean up after the horse.

Finally he flashed a grin at her as he walked Royal Pleasure up into the trailer. “I had you worried about that poop, didn’t I?”

“Not at all.”

“Yeah, you were worried.” Still grinning, he stored the bucket and shovel, secured the horse and ramp and closed up the trailer. “I bet you’ve never shoveled anything in your life.”

“Of course I have.” Shoulders squaring, she started back to the truck. “Let’s just get out of here.”

Back in the driver’s seat, Noah hesitated while Libby settled herself and her dog. Then he took firm hold of her hand, turning it palm side up. “This hand has never shoveled anything, much less horse sh—poop.”

She snatched her fingers away. “That’s not true.”

He waited a moment, studying her small, set features. No one could doubt the determination in her jaw. Just as anyone could see she was completely freaked out about the police officers in the diner. In fact, she had been ready to jump right out of her skin the entire time they were eating. She almost ran out the door. Hell, she almost knocked him down trying to take the side of the booth facing the door.

“I have no doubt you are running from something,” he said at last. “I just hope whatever it is doesn’t land me in a passel of trouble, too.”

She bit her lip. If her father figured out she was with Noah, who knew what sort of fuss he would make.

“Why don’t you just tell me the truth?”

She remained silent, stroking her dog’s fur and staring out the window.

“I might be able to help.”

“You are helping. You’re taking me to that bus station. That’s all I need.”

Noah let out a long sigh. “All right. I guess since we’ve come this far, I don’t really need to know the truth.”

Frowning, he navigated his rig out onto the highway. God only knew why he was compelled to know what she was hiding. Or why he felt so sorry for her. More of that sense of honor he had learned from his mother, probably. The same inclinations had led him to rescue injured squirrels, champion the nerdiest kids at school and stand up to his no-account stepfather. Nine times out of ten his good intentions had ended up costing him. Why couldn’t he learn?

With his luck, Libby was duping him but good, playing on his sympathies with her big, brown eyes, her cute behind, her tears and that bruise on her arm. He wished to hell he didn’t feel this compunction to rescue her.

They drove for quite a distance in silence, while Noah darted glances at her pale face. She kept leaning forward, studying the mirror on the passenger’s side.

“You think one of those officers might come after us?” he asked.

She said nothing, but the frantic glance she sent toward the mirror spoke volumes.

“Just tell me this much. Is Roger Franklin going to be really angry with me?”

“Would you please be quiet?” she demanded. “You’re making me nervous.”

“Because I’m close to the truth. You’ve got something that Roger Franklin’s going to want back, haven’t you?”

“No!”

“Quit lying. What is it? Did you hide it somewhere in the camper?”

“No.”

“In your bag, maybe?”

“Please just shut up!”

“Don’t I have a right to know what I’ve helped you steal from Roger Franklin?”

“I didn’t steal anything,” she exclaimed. “It’s me he’ll be looking for.” The words seemed to burst out of her. “I’m what he’ll want.”

“What are you saying?”

She twisted around to face him, the dog whining on her lap. “Roger Franklin is my father. I’m running away from him.”

Dread kicked Noah in the belly like a fist.

Roger Franklin’s daughter. Good God, the man was going to kill him.

Later, Noah wasn’t sure how he got the truck off the highway. All he remembered was turning into the parking lot of what appeared to be an abandoned produce stand.

Moments after coming to a stop, he dragged Libby—yeah, like that was her name—and her dog across the front seat and outside the driver’s side door.

Once her feet touched the ground, she jerked away from him. “You don’t have to manhandle me.”

“I ought to do worse than that!” Noah let loose the crudest, most vulgar curses he could think of while he paced back and forth in front of her.

Libby huddled against the truck, clutching Puddin’.

Noah turned and stopped. “Are you saying Roger Franklin bruised your arm?”

Her answer was a slow, miserable shake of her head. “I fell out of a window while I was escaping.” She had the grace to at least look ashamed of having misled him about the bruise.

“You went out the window? Ran away?” Noah was just beginning to comprehend her choice of words. “Wait a minute. How old are you?”

She swallowed hard. “Almost twenty-four.”

He cursed again. “You’re an adult. Why couldn’t you just leave through the front door?”

“It’s complicated.”

“Tell me.”

Her sigh was dramatic. “Can’t you just take me on to the bus?”

“No!” he shouted. “From the looks of the security around your home, I don’t think your father takes kindly to anyone making off with what’s his. And he just might think I took you. So you owe me some kind of explanation.”

“You’re not going to understand—”

“Try me,” he ordered.

And so her tale unfolded. Her mother’s kidnapping and murder. Her father’s fears and overprotectiveness. Olivia’s many tries at freedom. Her plans to marry Marshall Crane. Her realization that marriage would only trap her further.

Only then did Noah break in. “You mean you’re the daughter who was supposed to get married today?”

“I’m the only daughter.”

Blood pounded in his temples. “And you just took off.”

“I told you. I couldn’t marry Marshall.”

“And what about him? Did you bother telling him you were leaving?”

“He would have stopped me.”

“Don’t you think you owed him some kind of explanation?”

“It’s not as if Marshall loved me or anything.”

“Then why marry you?”

She managed a short laugh. “I already told you. Marrying me was a way to cement his place in my father’s company.”

“He must have cared about you.”

“I’m sure he cared,” was her impatient, offhand reply. “But it wasn’t about love. I don’t see what this has to do—”

“Right about now this Marshall guy is probably realizing he got stood up. On his wedding day. At the altar.”

“I doubt he’ll even go to the church.”

“And does that somehow make it better?”

She took a step to the side, edging away from him. “I don’t see why you’re so concerned about Marshall.”

Noah pushed his face down close to hers. “Libby, or whatever your name is—”

“Olivia,” she supplied.

“I’m concerned about Marshall because I know how he feels. I’ve been in his place. Standing there. Waiting for a bride who doesn’t show.”

Understanding dawned slowly in her expression. “I’m sorry, but that’s still—”

“You should have had the decency to tell him.”

“And then I wouldn’t have gotten away.”

“You haven’t gotten away.” Stepping in front of her, Noah bracketed her slender body with both his arms, pinning her and her dog to the truck. “We’re going back.”

“I can’t.”

“You don’t have a choice.”

She pushed against his chest, anger sparking in her gaze while the dog whimpered a protest. “I know you’ve done me a favor, but you’re not the boss of me—”

“You made me the boss by sneaking into my rig.”

“But—”

“And lying to me.” Noah gripped her shoulders, leaning in even closer. He could smell the faint trace of her expensive perfume, could see the light sprinkling of freckles across her upturned nose. She looked so damned innocent, so sweet and vulnerable. He could be fooled by her. Fooled very easily.

As if she sensed him wavering, the big, doe eyes she’d fastened on him filled with tears. “I’m sorry I lied to you. Really I am. I just had to get away. I was desperate. Haven’t you ever been desperate?”

What he knew about desperation she couldn’t begin to imagine, Noah thought. He understood all too well feeling trapped and frightened. Compared to him, this woman didn’t know the meaning of the word.

Returning fury thickened his voice. “What the hell were you thinking, using me this way?”

“I had to get away.”

“Didn’t you think your father might assume you went with me? Or that I took you? With your father so worried about you being snatched, isn’t it logical that I might be a kidnapping suspect?”

The muscles in her throat worked as she swallowed. “I never thought about that.”

“Poor little rich girls like you never think about other people, do you?”

Color suffused her cheeks. “That’s not fair. I’m not like that.”

He had to laugh. “So now I’m supposed to think you’re spoiled but good-hearted.”

“I am not spoiled.”

Her protest barely registered with Noah as he warmed to his subject. “You’re spoiled and weak and heartless. Anyone with a heart wouldn’t just leave their groom without an explanation.”

“But you don’t see—”

“I see all right,” he muttered. “I see a pathetic woman acting like a child. If you wanted out of your father’s house, all you had to do was go through the door.”

“It wasn’t that simple.”

“He chained you up? Beat you?” Noah glanced down at the dog she clutched like a lifeline. “Did he threaten to kill your dog if you tried to leave?”

She blanched. “Of course not. He’s not a monster.”

“Then why all this drama? Sneaking out. Stowing away with me.” Noah regarded her with disgust. “It sounds to me like you’re just a little child who likes to play games and create big dramas so Daddy will come racing in.”

“You couldn’t be more off-base.”

“Just do everyone a favor and get some therapy to deal with your daddy complex.”

Olivia had never in her life wanted to hit anyone like she wanted to punch this big, sanctimonious man. She settled for grinding her foot into his.

Shouting a curse, he released his grip on her, and she ducked away. She’d be damned if she would stand here and let him pronounce judgments on her actions. He didn’t know her life, didn’t understand the forces at work between her and her father.

Noah clearly had other ideas. He hobbled around the truck and stopped her just as she was dragging her bag from the passenger seat. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“I’m absolving you of any part in my ‘little game,”’ she retorted. “Thank you and goodbye.”

“Too late for that. What’ll I say when the police or your father’s private security force track me down and haul me in for questioning?”

“I don’t care.”

“And if they decide to throw me in the pokey?”

She made an impatient sound and stalked around the front of the truck. “Now who’s creating a drama?”

He took hold of her arm again. “Just shut up and get in the truck.”

“No!” She jerked her arm from his grip. “I’m not going back. If you try to force me, then you really will be in trouble.”

“Get in the damn truck.” Without waiting to see if she would comply, he swooped in and picked her up.

Olivia was too busy hanging on to a hysterically yapping Puddin’ to fight Noah very hard. She cursed him instead, calling on each and every one of the limited number of obscenities she knew. Then she repeated them again.

He was trying to maneuver her and the dog toward the passenger door when a patrol car sped by on the road.

“Oh, hell,” Noah muttered as the car slowed.

The car turned down a road to the right.

“Maybe they didn’t see us,” Olivia murmured. “Yeah, right,” Noah agreed sarcastically. “This big, white horse trailer is hard to miss. Especially with the two of us in hand-to-hand combat here on the side of the road.”

“But they might not even be looking for us.”

The words were no sooner out of her mouth when the sound of sirens split the air.

The next few moments unfolded like a slow-motion scene in a movie. Three police vehicles—state patrol and sheriff’s—descended one after the other, brakes screeching, raising clouds of dust and gravel. The female officer from the diner was the first to bail out of her vehicle and crouch behind her open car door, calling for Noah to put Olivia down.

Dazed, Olivia said, “They’ve got guns.”

A white line around his mouth, Noah glared at her.

Then she landed in a sputtering heap in the dust.

Noah stepped over her and advanced, hands held high, toward the officers, calling out, “She’s Roger Franklin’s daughter, but I’m not a kidnapper. Just take her away. I beg of you, take her away.”

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