Fugitive Fiancée

Garrett Lord:
Garrett never expects that the runaway bride he finds in his barn might be the woman who holds the key to his past…
and
the key to his heart.

Mimi Casville:
Mimi wants to prove to Garrett that she can work the ranch. Not because she needs to hide out but because Garrett seems to like her for
herself.
Not her family's wealth and power.

Rupert Casville:
Rupert is obsessed with having a grandson to carry on the Casville legacy. What he doesn't know is that he already has one….

Paul Renquist:
Paul isn't above being paid by Rupert Casville to marry Mimi—or above blackmail to ensure that
this
time she makes it to the altar.

LeeAnn Larimore:
She'd given up her precious babies all those years ago. Now they're adults…and so close she can reach out and touch them.

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

EPILOGUE

G
ARRET
L
ORD
needed to find a place to hide. Fast. Caught between the corral and the old red barn, he could see the shiny blue Ford pickup truck rattling down the long gravel drive that led to his ranch house. The dual tires kicked up a plume of thick Texas dust that hovered in the fading twilight.

He only had a few precious seconds to take cover before he was spotted. He considered diving into the water trough by the corral, but he didn't think he could hold his breath for that long.

That left the barn.

He spun on the heel of his cowboy boot and bolted for the barn door, whipping it shut behind him just as he heard the sound of gravel crunching under the truck's tires. Hubert, his aspiring cow dog, began barking, alerting his master to the new arrival. But Garrett didn't have to worry about the little black schnauzer disclosing his hiding place. That dog was loyal through and through.

Too bad Garrett couldn't say the same about some of the people in his life.

He'd learned that lesson early. At two and a half years old, to be exact. When his mother had abandoned him and his younger sisters and brother. He couldn't even remember her. Not the color of her
eyes, or her hair, or the sound of her laughter. When he was a young boy, he used to look for her on the streets and in department stores, certain he'd recognize his own mother when he saw her.

But it had never happened.

Now he was both older and wiser. He didn't indulge in childish fantasies anymore. It had taken him a while, long enough for another woman to rip away a little piece of his heart when she'd left him stranded at the altar seven years ago. She'd made a fool of him. But when the embarrassment had lasted longer than the heartache, he knew he'd gotten lucky. And he was smart enough not to make the same mistake twice.

Garrett always went with the odds, and love was definitely a long shot. Especially with his track record. Not to mention the astronomical divorce rate these days. Besides, he was more than content living alone. Working alone. Although he did treasure the time he spent with his sisters and brother. Time that was increasingly scarce now that Shelby, Lana and Michael had families of their own. As their older brother, he'd watched over the triplets for as long as he could remember. But they didn't need his protection anymore.

Now, if he could just find someone to protect him from man-hungry cowgirls.

He leaned toward the door, pressing one eye against a tiny crack in the wood. He could see the front porch and the young woman from the neighboring ranch who stood at the door. Venna held a large covered basket in one hand. No doubt another food offering to entice him into matrimony. Only food wasn't the way to Garrett's heart. Neither was her eclectic art
work. Last week she'd given him a painting of a clown to hang in his living room. He hated clowns.

As he slanted his head for a better view, Garrett suddenly realized that he'd been reduced to hiding from a woman. But it was that or endure Venna's incessant chatter until the wee hours of the morning again. She could talk almost as well as she could cook. And she was forever finding excuses to touch him.

She reminded him of a cat that had wandered onto his ranch a few years ago. Garrett was allergic to cats, so he'd avoided it as much as possible, leaving food and water in the barn, but keeping his distance. But the more he tried to keep away from it, the more the cat sought him out. Rubbing against his boots. Sleeping in his saddle. Leaving cat dander everywhere. When his sneezing and itchy, watery eyes had finally proven too much to bear, he'd foisted the overly affectionate feline on Megan Maitland. She'd always been good at taking in strays.

If only he could get rid of Venna as easily.

“Damn,” he breathed as he watched her try the doorknob, then enter the house. He'd left the door unlocked and a light on in the living room, as well as a slow cooker full of beef stew simmering in the kitchen. All signs that might encourage her to wait for his return. Which meant he could be stuck in the barn for most of the evening.

He turned away from the door and strode down the center aisle of the barn. None of the six horses even gave him a glance, recognizing his familiar step. They stood in their wooden stalls, three on either side of
the aisle, chewing contentedly on their evening ration of oats.

“At least the animals on this ranch get to eat,” he muttered, his stomach rumbling. He climbed the plank ladder that led to the hayloft, figuring he might as well catch a few winks on a soft bed of straw while he waited. It beat staying awake and listening to his stomach growl.

The flutter of birds' wings and admonishing squawks greeted him. No doubt his presence disturbed some of the nesting barn swallows, who didn't like anyone invading their home.

He knew just how they felt.

“Hope you don't mind if I join you,” he called to the birds as he reached the top of the ladder.

“Not at all.”

Startled, Garrett lost his grip on the ladder and almost toppled off. When he regained his balance, he stared slack-jawed at the vision in front of him. Sitting atop a stack of golden straw was a bride.

He blinked and looked again. It was a bride, all right. He recognized all the warning signs—the white wedding dress, the gauzy fingertip veil, the white satin spiked heels on her dainty feet. Not to mention the lacy blue garter belt, revealed by the voluminous taffeta skirt bunched up around her thighs.

Before he could get a good look, she hastily pushed her skirt down, concealing the garter belt as well as a pair of long, slender legs.

For one brief moment, Garrett had an irrational impulse to shinny down the ladder and make a run for it. But run where? The house wasn't safe, and he'd be spotted out in the open. Besides, this was his ranch.
His barn. His hayloft. If anyone was leaving, it was the bride.

He climbed the last two rungs, then stepped onto the loft floor. Without giving the woman another glance, he sidled over to the dusty window and looked down at the driveway. The pickup was still there. Hubert was there, too, dutifully marking all the tires.

“You're probably wondering what I'm doing here,” she said, breaking the long silence between them. Her voice was smooth and soft, like a warm, gentle breeze.

“I can guess.” He clenched his jaw as he turned to face her. No doubt Shelby and Lana were to blame. His sisters had been hinting that his place needed a woman's touch ever since his housekeeper had retired. They'd brought up the subject again during Christmas dinner last week, even offering to play matchmaker for him.

Despite his irritation, he couldn't help but be impressed with their choice. Quality stock, no doubt about it. Tall and slender, with generous curves in all the right places. Her blond hair was swept up off her neck, a few errant strands curling around her cheeks. A tiara encircled the intricate bun on the top of her head, the tiny crystals sparkling in the fading sunlight.

She wore only a touch of makeup, and that was marred by the tiny smudge of dirt on her nose and another on her chin. The almost regal way she tilted that dirty chin made him want to smile. But she might take that as a sign of encouragement, which was the last thing he needed.

Then he made the mistake of looking into her eyes. Deep, blue eyes like the Texas sky after a storm. They
held him. Captivated him. Something in his belly twisted, but he told himself it was just hunger pains. He'd been working since dawn, not bothering to stop for lunch. That explained the ache deep inside him. He needed food. Rest. He needed to be alone.

Garrett forced himself to look away from her as he brushed the dust off his denim jeans. “My sisters sent you here, didn't they?”

“No, I—”

“Then it must have been Michael,” he muttered, rubbing one hand over his jaw. “Or Jake.”

“Michael or Jake?” she echoed, looking perplexed.

“My brother and my
former
friend, if he's behind this.” Michael Lord and Jake Maitland were once diehard bachelors who had avoided marriage as vigorously as Garrett. But they had accidentally let down their guard, and two determined women had snatched them up. Of course, the fact that Garrett happened to like both their wives very much was beside the point.

Lately they'd been dropping broad hints that Garrett should follow in their footsteps. But a bride in his barn? So much for subtlety.

Only what the hell did he do with her now? If he kicked her out of his hayloft, it might call attention to his presence. Better to wait until the coast was clear.

“I believe I owe you an explanation, Mr.…”

“Garrett.” He bit the word out.

“Well, Mr. Garrett…”

“Just call me Garrett,” he interjected. He didn't stand on formality. And even though he'd carried the Lord name for more than twenty-five years, lately it
had only served to remind him that he'd had another last name once. A name he still didn't know.

“All right, Garrett. You may call me Mimi.”

He wasn't planning on calling her anything, except a cab. Which made him wonder how she got way out here. He hadn't seen any strange cars around the place. Though his ranch was located only a few miles outside Austin, it was tucked deep in the hill country, accessible only by a winding backroad. Had she been en route to her wedding at some quaint country church and lost her way?

She certainly looked lost. Not only was she over-dressed for the barn, but her manicured fingernails and those dainty shoes on her feet told him she was completely out of her element. He studied her face, noting the creamy smooth complexion, which obviously hadn't seen any days working in the sun and wind. Her cheekbones were high, her nose finely shaped and tipped just slightly at the end. Her eyebrows and lashes were slightly darker than her hair, like burnished gold.

She licked her lips. “I know the last thing you expected to find up here was a bride sitting on your haystack.”

He swallowed a groan. It was worse than he thought. Bad enough he'd found a bride in his barn. She was a city girl, to boot. “You're sitting on straw, not hay.”

A golden brow lifted. “Really? What's the difference?”

“Wheat straw is yellow and used for livestock bedding. Hay is cut from grasses, like brome, and is
fed to the stock. It's green, and your pretty white dress would be, too, if you were sitting on hay.”

“I'm learning all kinds of fascinating things today,” she said, her tone telling him she wasn't exactly thrilled about it.

Well, he wasn't thrilled, either. Not only was he stuck in the barn for who knew how long, he was stuck here with a city girl. A worried city girl, judging by the way her perfect teeth kept nipping that lush lower lip. Shadows clouded her blue eyes as she looked at him.

A vague uneasiness tightened his gut. Maybe this wasn't a prank. Maybe she wasn't lost. Maybe this woman was in trouble.

“If you'd just let me explain,” Mimi began, winding her fingers together.

“That really isn't necessary.” Garrett moved to the window. Despite his natural curiosity, he didn't want to know any details about her. Didn't want this woman to intrude on his life more than she already had. Those shadows in her eyes bothered him. If he found out how they got there, he might feel obliged to help her. And he had enough problems of his own to deal with right now.

It was better if they remained strangers. Better for him, anyway. Sometimes he wondered if that's why Jake Maitland had spent all those years working as a secret operative for the government. Moving from place to place had kept him from making ties and establishing relationships. Even his own family had rarely known how to find him. Maybe he'd liked it that way.

Because sometimes it hurt to care too much.

The creak of the barn door startled them both. Garrett whirled, locking eyes with Mimi. Her wary blue eyes widened at the sound of footsteps below them.

“Hide,” Garrett ordered in a husky whisper, diving behind a tall stack of straw. Mimi rolled off her perch to join him there, tangling them both in a billowing cloud of white taffeta.

They both batted down her wayward skirts, then froze as a feminine voice called from below. “Anybody here?”

One of the horses whinnied in reply.

“Garrett?” Her shout startled the barn swallows perched high in the rafters, and they fluttered around their nests.

Garrett saw Mimi open her mouth, and he immediately clamped his hand over it. Her lips were soft and warm against his palm. He felt a touch of moisture, like dew, on his skin, when she tried to speak. He shook his head, his body tightening at the thought of her small pink tongue touching him, tasting him.

She looked at him with those blue eyes, then finally nodded slowly in understanding. He removed his hand, suddenly aware of how close Mimi was to him. He could feel the silky wisps of her blond hair tickling his cheek and the soft fullness of one breast pressed against his upper arm. She was so warm and so very, very soft. One of her legs had tangled with his during their fall, her creamy skin rubbing against the rough fabric of his jeans. He didn't dare move, even as a hot, tingling sensation shot through his veins to other parts of his body.

He looked into her eyes and found her still staring at him, their faces only a hairbreadth apart. He hadn't
been this close to a woman in months—and his body was reminding him of that fact. His heart pounded, and his breathing hitched.

“Garrett?” The voice below called again, closer now. “Are you up there?”

His muscles tensed as his attention was drawn away from Mimi. He held his breath, letting it out slowly when he finally heard the sound of receding footsteps. The barn door creaked once again.

Venna was gone.

He immediately put a healthy distance between himself and the bride. That's when he noticed her hands were shaking.

“What's wrong?” he asked.

She swallowed hard and shook her head. “Nothing. I'm fine.”