Scandal and the Runaway Bride (Heirs to an Empire 1)

She drank the last drop of cognac and leaned back against the soft seat. It wasn’t long at all and her eyelids were drooping...

* * *

William frowned as he looked over at Gabi as she fell asleep. There was no big shifting to a comfortable position or snuffling or anything. She sat back, her lids grew heavy and she was gone.

Stephen was a fool. Gabriella Baresi was a beautiful woman: smart, a little shy, but what she’d done today? It was an almighty headache, but damn, it was brave. She would have made Stephen a great wife, if he’d let her. But Stephen was an idiot right now, still stinging from his last relationship gone wrong. While most would consider her last question to be cold and calculating, he didn’t think so. She had been going through with this out of a sense of family loyalty and responsibility. Her father was ill. Aurora would have partnered with Baresi for the finest Italian cashmere, in exchange for her father still maintaining control of

the company. Stephen had agreed, with his own preposterous conditions.

William shook his head. The pair of them, trying to live up to parental expectations in the most misguided way. Not that he didn’t understand. He owed everything to both Stephen and their father. His life had been on a dangerous path until the two of them had stepped in and saved him. He hadn’t deserved it. He’d acted like the typical “spare” to the heir, partying too much, getting attention the wrong way, getting in over his head. Stephen could have washed his hands of Will and his antics, but instead he’d stepped in and been Will’s biggest support.

Saint Stephen. The old nickname flitted through his brain, and he frowned. Stephen always did everything right. Will constantly had to prove himself. But he’d brought that on himself, so he shuttered the feelings away and studied the sleeping woman across from him again.

He’d met Massimo Baresi. William seriously doubted that the man knew what bargain Gabi had struck to save their business. He was a proud, smart man going through a horrible time. No, Gabi had taken this on herself, and he thought back to his crack about being a countess. He didn’t think she’d done it for her own personal gain. She’d accepted Stephen for the good of her family, a self-sacrifice. Misguided, but admirable.

He swallowed tightly. She was beautiful. There was no harm in admitting that; it was a fact and he was a fan of facts in general. A piece of hair curled around her heart-shaped face, the same sable color as her thick eyelashes. Her lashes were full and curled up slightly at the ends. Her mouth was relaxed in sleep, delicate lips a soft pink now that she’d chewed her lipstick off.

He’d learned she chewed on her lips when upset or nervous. She’d done it a lot today. Choosing to run hadn’t been easy for her. He rather suspected she’d been pumped full of adrenaline all day. No wonder she’d crashed.

In an hour or so they’d be in France, headed to the Germain château, surrounded by lush gardens and lavender fields. It was the most beautiful place he’d ever been, and now he was going to be there with her for the next week.

At this point he didn’t know if that was a curse or a blessing.

* * *

Coffee. The rich, thick, beautiful scent of it woke Gabi from a deep sleep. She blinked and then rolled over and gasped at the sight of a maid depositing a tray on a small table.

“Oh, excusez-moi, mademoiselle.” She stood and wiped her hands on her apron.

“You brought coffee. No need to beg pardon. You have my undying gratitude.” She sat up a bit and pushed her hair back. “What’s your name?”

“Suzanne,” came the reply.

“Merci, Suzanne. I can’t face the day without coffee.”

They shared a smile and then the maid slipped away, closing the bedroom door with a click.

Good heavens. She didn’t realize there’d be a maid. But then, the château was huge. Of course there was staff.

She barely remembered arriving last night. William had awakened her on landing and they’d been ushered into a car and then into the château sometime around two a.m.—or was it three? She reached for the coffee and inhaled its strong aroma, took a bracing sip and sighed as she leaned against the enormous headboard. Someone had guided her to this room and deposited her bags as well. The bags, still packed, now stood by a gorgeous wardrobe. She’d unpack this morning after...

She didn’t know what after. She was supposed to be sick, wasn’t she? And she highly doubted William wanted anything to do with her.

He’d have to, though. Because she insisted on knowing about the mysterious “plan.” Maybe she didn’t have much control over what happened next, and for good reason, she admitted to herself. But she wasn’t about to sit back and be quiet as a mouse about it, either.

She emptied her cup and filled it again, then sampled the flaky, rich croissant on the plate and picked at the fresh berries in a china bowl. Last night she’d barely touched her dinner, and now she found herself quite hungry. It wasn’t long before the food had disappeared, the coffee had kicked in and she was ready for a shower and a fresh start.

It was amazing to think that yesterday at this time she’d been preparing to put on her wedding dress. It seemed as if it were days ago, and not a mere twenty-four hours.

She’d showered and dressed and was putting cream on her face when she realized she hadn’t seen her mobile this morning.

She dashed back to the bedroom and ripped through her handbag. No phone. She lugged her suitcase to the bed, threw it on top of the coverlet and opened it, tossing clothing aside looking for the tiny piece of tech that kept her connected to her life. Nothing. She hung the garment bag that held the wedding dress, now crumpled, in the wardrobe and tried to calm her heartbeat. Had she left it on the plane, perhaps? In the car last night? She tried to remember where she had it last and couldn’t think.

“Good heavens.”

Her head snapped up at the sound of William’s voice. He stood in the doorway, staring at the state of her room, his mouth agape. She followed his gaze.

Her clothes were strewn all over the room. Dresses and skirts littered the fine silk of the coverlet, shoes and trousers were scattered all over the floor, and her cheeks heated as she realized a few of her very fine and pretty underthings were tossed over a tufted chair.