The Runaway Christmas Bride Read online

  The Runaway Christmas Bride

  A Montana Born Christmas Romance

  Scarlet Wilson

  The Runaway Christmas Bride

  Copyright © 2015 Scarlet Wilson

  EPUB Edition

  The Tule Publishing Group, LLC

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

  No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  ISBN: 978-1-943963-40-9

  Table of Contents

  Cover

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Excerpt from Christmas with the Laird

  Other Books from Scarlet Wilson

  More Christmas stories from Montana Born

  About the Author

  Chapter One

  ‡

  This wasn’t how a wedding was supposed to begin.

  “Where is he, Corrine?”

  Corrine shifted nervously on her feet, wrinkling her coral dress between her fingers. Her groom’s sister couldn’t look her in the eye.

  “I think he might just be a little nervous. I’m sure he’ll be here in a second.”

  Emma’s stomach gave a little flip. The groom was supposed to be standing at the top of the aisle waiting for her entrance. He wasn’t supposed to be nervous. He wasn’t supposed to be anywhere but here.

  She gathered up her skirts in her hand. “Is he in the vestry?

  Corrine blinked and looked confused, so Emma just strode forward, her voluptuous skirts pushing Corrine to the side.

  This couldn’t be happening. Bryce had told her everything was fine. He’d told her he loved her forever. Losing the baby didn’t matter. Finding out she could never have another child didn’t matter. He loved her. He would be there for her.

  So, where was he?

  Her footsteps slowed as she approached the vestry. The door wasn’t quite closed and she could hear low voices.

  “Bryce, she’ll be here any minute. You need to make up your mind.”

  It was Reuben, his best friend and best man. He’d never really approved of his friend marrying a Scottish girl.

  She could hear pacing. “I know. I know. It’s just…”

  “Just what?” Reuben was frustrated and probably annoyed.

  He was a planner. He didn’t like it when things didn’t go to plan. The wedding planned in the space of a few months had driven him crazy.

  She heard Bryce suck in a breath. “It’s just that, no matter how much I try to push it away, I really, really want a family.” She caught a glimpse of him through the tiny gap in the door. He was running his hand through his hair. Her heart squeezed. He looked…torn.

  “Well, it’s a bit late to decide that now,” Reuben snapped.

  Bryce shook his head. “I know. I know. But Emma was devastated by the miscarriage – devastated by the news. How on earth could I walk away? I love her. I do. She was so hurt. I couldn’t hurt her anymore.”

  Emma looked down at the floor. Past the mounds of pale cream skirt. Past the satin shoes with tiny tartan bows. She fixated on the grey stone floor, staring at a tiny crack snaking across it. Any second now she would vomit all over it.

  “And you decide this now? What on earth are you going to do?”

  Bryce started pacing again. She could hear his Italian shoes clicking on the stone floor of the vestry.

  “I don’t know. Marry her I guess. Then wait some time and break up. It will be easier then. She’ll be over the surgery and she’ll have had some time to adjust.”

  “You’re all heart.”

  Her head shot up. Reuben sounded disgusted. She would never have expected him to be on her side.

  “I can’t break her heart. I just can’t. Emma’s a good person. She is. She wanted this wedding. I have to give it to her.”

  A tear slid down her cheek and she brushed it away, then straightened her shoulders and dropped her skirts.

  Bryce wasn’t brave enough to walk away – not yet, at least – but she was. This was wrong. The guy she thought loved her with his whole heart obviously didn’t. The guy who’d held her hand and swore to her that she would be enough for him had lied. The guy who said he could do without kids secretly wanted a whole house full.

  And she’d let him have it.

  She pushed open the door. Bryce and Reuben turned around, shock on both their faces.

  “Emma! I’m sorry, I was just coming.”

  She kept her face straight. “Reuben, can you give us a minute please?”

  Reuben’s eyes darted from Bryce then back to Emma. Mr. Planner had no idea what was going on. “Well, I, I…”

  She pointed to the door. “Beat it, pal.” Her Scottish accent was becoming stronger by the second. She wasn’t about to be messed with.

  He blinked and headed to the door. “If you need me, I’ll be outside.” He took a few steps.

  “He won’t,” she said sharply and kicked the door closed with her foot. The noise shook the tiny vestry, rattling the old wooden table in the corner.

  Bryce took a step towards her but she held up her hand. His aftershave drifted across the confined space. No. She didn’t need this. She didn’t need any reminder of the guy who’d told her he loved her and made false promises.

  She fixed her eyes on him. “You lied to me.”

  He looked shocked. “What?”

  She shook her head. “You looked me in the eye and told me you loved me, and it didn’t matter that I couldn’t have kids.” She was praying he wouldn’t hear the tiny waver in her voice.

  “Emma-”

  She held up her hand again. She couldn’t listen. She just couldn’t. Because then he might try to persuade her to stay – his guilt would make him. And she couldn’t look at him either. Because she could see him crumbling right before her eyes.

  Women the world over spoke freely of their biological clocks and their desire to have kids. Men didn’t. They just didn’t do things like that.

  But she’d heard Bryce. She’d heard him say that. And now she could see his face, she could see how hurt he looked. Spending a life with her would mean that he gave up his desire for a family. She couldn’t do that. Not for a second.

  Bryce was one of the kindest, nicest guy’s she’d ever met. He’d be a fabulous father. And he deserved that chance.

  She took a step forward and reached up, kissing him on the cheek.

  “You can’t walk away, Bryce, but I can. I’m not going to marry you. Go find your girl. Go find your dreams. Find a girl to marry who can give you a whole house full of kids. Have the family that I know you will love. That’s what I wish for you.”

  Now her voice was shaking and she couldn’t hide it. He opened his mouth to speak and she shook her head. “Don’t, Bryce. Just don’t. Just let me go.”

  She gathered up her skirts again and opened the door. Reuben fell backwards. He’d had his ear pressed to the door.

  She shot him a lo
ok of disgust and strode down the hall as fast as she could. One thing about arranging a quick wedding – she’d driven herself here. Her honeymoon case was in the trunk of her car. She’d didn’t need anything else.

  Corrine rushed over. “Emma? Emma, what’s happening? Where’s Bryce?”

  Emma didn’t reply. She couldn’t. Tears were brimming in her eyes. She ripped the veil from her head and opened the door to the car, climbing in as best she could and starting the engine.

  Corrine was standing at the doorway to the church, her coral dress flapping in the cold wind and her mouth hanging open.

  Emma didn’t hesitate.

  She floored it.

  Chapter Two

  ‡

  Mitch Holden had seen some strange things in his days – having a past life as a professional football player and a present life as a high school varsity football coach – gave him lots of scope for strange. But somehow, this one took the prize.

  He blinked again.

  Nope. He wasn’t seeing things. That was definitely a bride rummaging around the trunk of her car. One just couldn’t mistake a dress like that.

  After a few seconds, a pair of heels whizzed past his ear – one landed in the street trash can, the other at his feet.

  He picked it up and stared at it. A wedding shoe covered in tiny tartan bows. Well, that was different.

  “Oh, darn it. I’m sorry. I meant to throw them in the rubbish bin. After all, it’s not like I’m going to need them.”

  It took him a few seconds to adjust to the thick accent. He couldn’t quite place it, then something clicked in his brain. Tartan. Scottish?

  He shook his head and deposited the shoe in the trash for her. Small town Marietta seemed to have more than its share of brides. But none quite like this.

  He moved forward, sticking his hands in his jeans. He might be crazy but he just couldn’t resist. “So, why won’t you need them?”

  She shook her head and hitched her toes up on her trunk, trying to wrestle her foot into a hiking boot. “Let’s just say the groom had a change of heart he didn’t have the nerve to tell me about.”

  She put down one foot and lifted up the other. This girl had legs.

  She seemed oblivious to the fact that she’d hitched her dress up so high he could see the blue tartan garter around her thigh. The brown hiking boots were worn and well used. She pushed her foot into the second one and put her other back on the ground, dropping her skirts and hiding the best pair of legs he’d ever seen.

  She stuck her hands on her hips and looked around. “Where on earth am I?”

  He laughed. This was like some weird dream. Any second now he’d wake up and remember he’d spent most of last night in Grey’s salon. But this wouldn’t be a dream if he didn’t see a little bit more of the bride.

  He held out his hands. “Welcome to Marietta. Full of cowboys and brides. You’ll fit right in.”

  Now he was up close, he could see tiny freckles across her pale skin. All brides were supposed to be beautiful but this girl really nailed it. He’d never seen hair that color before. What did people call it? Auburn? It suited her. And the dress. Oh, the dress. It hugged her curves in all the right places even though she was slim. Tiny little bits glistened in the lowering sun. She almost looked like someone in a movie, highlighted so all her best parts were caught by the camera to engage the audience.

  He gave a little swallow. Yup. He was certainly engaged.

  Her pale blue eyes stood out, probably because they looked a little bloodshot. Of course. She’d been crying. It made his heart clench in a weird kind of way.

  “I need a job.” Her voice had a tiny wobble.

  “What?”

  She wrinkled her nose. “What do you do?” She looked around and held out her hands. “What’s around here? I need a job.”

  There was an edge of panic in her voice. As if everything that had happened that day had suddenly rushed down upon her.

  He held out his hand towards her. “Mitch. Mitch Holden. I’m the varsity football coach at the high school.”

  For a few seconds she didn’t speak. It was almost as if she were trying to sort out all the thoughts tumbling around her head. She held out her slim hand. It was cold. “Emma. Emma McGregor. And as you might have guessed – I’m not from around these parts.”

  He gave a slight nod and clasped one hand over the other, trying to warm her chilled fingers. “I love your accent. And you’ll be pleased to know you’re my favorite Scots girl in town.” He pulled her forward a little and whispered. “You don’t have any competition. There aren’t any others in town.”

  She smiled. The first time he’d seen her smile since she got there.

  “How far have you driven?”

  The question seemed to throw her. “What? Oh, I’ve no idea. I just got in the car and drove.” She glanced around. “What time is it?”

  He looked at his watch. “It’s after six.”

  She shrugged her shoulders. “I was supposed to get married at midday. I guess I’ve been driving for around six hours.” She sighed and looked around again. “Where am I?”

  He smiled. “Marietta.” Then he paused and looked around at the main street of eclectic buildings and stores.

  It was only the end of November but several of the stores already had their windows decked out with twinkling lights and tinsel. Nowhere did Christmas like Marietta.

  He took a deep breath. “I call it home.”

  It seemed almost odd to say those words out loud. It was the first time he’d actually said it. He’d landed in Marietta and at the time he’d thought it a misfortune. Turned out he’d been wrong. Really wrong. This small town community had welcomed him with open arms. His professional football career was shot after an injury that had had bigger repercussions than he could have ever have guessed.

  He needed quiet after that. He needed time and space to process. And he’d found it. Here in Marietta. The place he now thought of as home.

  He could almost see the dark clouds cross her vision. “Home,” she murmured. “I wonder where that will be now?”

  Her water-filled eyes blinked back tears and he cringed. The last thing he wanted to do was make her cry.

  He lowered his head a little closer to hers, letting her gentle, floral scent wind its way around him. “Home is wherever you decide it should be. Home is your choice.” He gave her a rueful smile. “Sometimes a place just captures your heart and before you know it…Boom!” He blew into his fingertips. “It has you.”

  She gave him a grateful smile. Right now, he’d try anything to reassure her – to lift her spirits.

  She blew a piece of hair out of face. “Well, I guess I should find somewhere to stay tonight. Any recommendations?”

  He nodded. “Marietta isn’t the biggest place in the world but we do have a fancy-schmancy hotel. It’s a few streets over. It’s called The Graff. There’s also a bed and breakfast on Bramble Lane, if you’d prefer.”

  She let out a laugh. It kind of startled him. She’d looked so serious before.

  She was shaking her head. “Fancy-schmancy? Really?”

  He folded his arms across his chest and met her warm look. This was much better. “Of course.” He gave a little nod. “You’ve not seen it yet, so don’t mock.”

  Something flickered across her face and she reached into her trunk and pulled out her purse. “I take it any hotel that’s fancy-schmancy will be expensive?”

  Darn it. He hadn’t thought of that. Five minutes ago, Emma had told him she needed a job. The Graff probably wasn’t the best place for her to stay. It would eat into any savings that she had.

  He waved his hand the other way. “There’s always Bramble B & B. It will be cheaper, and I think you’ll like it there.”

  She opened her wallet and pulled out a credit card, passing it from hand to hand. For a few seconds, she looked deep in thought. The sun was setting, darkening the sky around them and the street lights flickered on.

 
Glints of orange and gold reflected off her cream dress, lighting her up like a dazzling star, topped off by the gleaming auburn hair.

  With a little nod, she gave a big smile. “That looks like a sign to me.”

  “A sign for what?”

  She waved the credit card. “That tonight will be on my groom. After this, I’ll be on my own. But for tonight I think I deserve a fancy-schmancy hotel. After all, it’s the least he can do.”

  Mitch nodded and smiled. “They even have suites. Maybe you should just go the whole hog.”

  She gave a little shake of head. “An expensive hotel room and some room service will be enough.” She glanced down at her dress again. “I might look completely crazy but I’m not – well, not all the time.”

  It was the first time he’d seen it. That little glint in her eye. On a normal day, Emma McGregor looked like she could be fun.

  “I’ve never met a runaway bride before.”

  “I’ve never been one before.” She quipped straight back. “But I think to be defined as a runaway it helps if someone is chasing you. Look around. No one is chasing me, pal.”

  He liked it. A bit of Scottish sassiness. And it suited her. It seemed to fit better than the kind of shell-shocked girl he’d seen originally.

  He put his hand on his heart. “Well, you’re still my first.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Are you done with the corny lines?”

  He nodded. “I think so. You know, there are some McGregor’s in town. Maybe you’re related?”

  “I doubt it. All my relatives are in Scotland.” She put her finger on her chin. “But come to think of it. Old great-uncle Archie was a bit of a goer. And I’m sure he visited America a few times. Maybe he left some gifts behind?”

  She was joking. She had that glint in her eye again.

  He waved his hand. “Don’t be so cynical. Don’t they say that we’re all only seven steps away from one another?”

  She laughed and held up one side of her wedding dress. “You’re making fun of me for being cynical? Me? The runaway bride? Standing in a strange street in a strange town still dressed in my wedding gown?” She gave the dress a shake and let out a sigh, wriggling her back in the laced up bodice. “Boy, do I need to get out of this thing.”