than it originally looked and I think you might need stitches. Maybe I can get you a packet of frozen peas from the kitchen?’ She paused and looked around. ‘Do you even know where the kitchen is in here?’ Even as she said the words she almost laughed out loud. Seb’s kitchen would probably spontaneously combust if someone even said the words ‘frozen peas’ in it. Daisy really had moved into a whole different world here.
He shook his head and placed his hand over hers. His hand was nice and warm, whereas hers was cold and clammy. Another thing to annoy her. He wasn’t nearly as worked up as she was. This was all just another day in the life of the Runaway Groom. How often did he wake up next to a strange woman?
‘What were you playing at anyway? You might be Violet’s best friend but why on earth would you be climbing into bed with my sister? It’s obvious from Violet’s reaction that there’s nothing going on between you. What on earth were you doing?’
Will gestured his head towards her suitcase. ‘If I’m going to need stitches why don’t you get dressed? You’ll need to take me to the hospital.’
He hadn’t answered her question. Did he think she hadn’t noticed? Of course she had.
And the assumption that she’d take him to the hospital made her skin bristle.
All of a sudden she was conscious of her distinct lack of clothes. She slid her hand out from under his and moved over to her suitcase, cursing herself when she remembered he’d just had a big view of her backside.
Still, if he sometimes bunked in with Violet, then he was used to being around her sister in a semi-naked state. She glanced backwards. He didn’t seem to have even noticed. Was she relieved or mad? She couldn’t work it out. Apart from a few freckles, moles and little scars—one of which he’d already noted—she and her sister were virtually identical. Maybe that was why he wasn’t looking? He’d seen it all before.
She grabbed a summer dress from her case and pulled it over her head. A little rumpled and yesterday’s underwear still in place. Not the best scenario. But she didn’t fancy fishing through her smalls to find a new set while he sat and watched in his jersey boxer shorts that left nothing to the imagination.
‘Don’t you have a bride in waiting that can take you to hospital?’
He scowled at her. ‘Not even funny, Rose. You work in PR, don’t you? Surely you know better than to believe everything you read in the papers?’
His words were dripping with sarcasm. The nerve she’d apparently just touched ran deep.
She folded her arms across her chest. ‘But I thought most of the time you sold those stories and worked them in your favour.’
‘What made you think that?’ he snapped.
‘Oh, I don’t know. The ten-page photo spreads in Exclusive magazine. How many of them have you featured in now?’
He gritted his teeth together. ‘Not my idea.’
It was good to see him uncomfortable. Waking up with a strange guy in your bed was horribly intimidating. To say nothing of the discomfort and embarrassment. What if she snored—or made strange noises in her sleep?
And he still hadn’t answered the question about sleeping with her sister. What exactly was the deal? His eyes were still fixed furiously on her and the blood was soaking through his shirt. She decided to give him a little leeway.
She gestured towards him. ‘What about you? You can’t wear that shirt. Where are your clothes?’
He wrinkled his nose. ‘I’m not sure. I ran in here at the last minute yesterday. I think my bag might be in Violet’s room.’
‘Violet’s room?’ She said it bluntly, hoping he’d take the hint and decide he should go there. But if he did, he ignored it.
‘Yeah, would you mind running along and grabbing something for me?’ He had that smile on his face. The one that was usually plastered all over the front page of a magazine, or on his face when he was charming some reporter. It was almost as if someone had flicked a little switch and he’d just fallen into his default position. His voice and smile washed over her like a warm summer’s day. Boy, this guy was good. But she was determined not to fall for his charms.
‘I will. But only because I’ve probably scarred you for life. I’m not Violet. I’m not your best friend—or your bed buddy. Once I’ve taken you to the hospital, we’re done. Are we clear?’
His Mediterranean-sea-blue eyes lost all their warmth. ‘Crystal.’ He waited until she’d reached the door before he added, ‘And you’re right. You’re not Violet.’
* * *
He watched her retreating back as she stomped out of the door. His head was definitely muggy and he wasn’t quite sure if it was from the alcohol last night or the head injury this morning.
Part of him felt guilty, part of him felt enraged and part of him was cringing.
Last night was a bit of a blur. He’d just made it to the wedding on time and hadn’t eaten a thing beforehand. His charity commitments were hectic and he was anxious not to let people down, which meant he’d been pulling on his tie and jacket in the sprawling car park at Hawksley Castle. A business call had come in just as dinner had arrived so he’d missed most of that, too. Then the party had truly started. And Violet had mentioned something about staying in her room as she’d fluttered past in her yellow and white bridesmaid dress.
A bridesmaid dress he’d definitely seen on the floor as he’d stumbled into the room. She’d been sleeping peacefully with her back to him and he hadn’t even thought to wake her. Actually, he knew better. If he’d shaken Violet awake to let her know he was there she would have killed him with her bare hands.
Maybe the sisters had more in common than he thought?
It was strange. He’d never once considered Violet in a romantic sense. They’d clicked as friends from the start. Good friends. Nothing more. Nothing less.
He trusted her. Which was a lot more than he could say of some people. She gave it to him straight. There was no flirting, nothing ambiguous. Just plenty of laughs, plenty of support and plenty of ear bashing.
But Violet’s identical twin... Well, she was a whole different story.
It didn’t matter they looked so similar it was scary. They were two totally different people. No wonder they got annoyed when people mixed them up. And you couldn’t get much more of a blunder than the one he’d just made.
But it wasn’t the blunder that was fixating in his head. It was that little missing mole on her left shoulder. The memory of her skin beneath the palm of his hand. And the site of her tanned skin and rounded backside when she’d turned to get dressed. They seemed to have imprinted on his brain. Every time he squeezed his eyes shut, that was the picture he saw inside his head.
He stood up and walked over to the en suite bathroom. He grimaced when he saw his face. It was hardly a spectacular sight. His shirt—worn once—was ruined. Not that he couldn’t afford to buy another one. But he’d picked this one up especially for the wedding. Even millionaires didn’t like waste.
He stuck his head back out of the bathroom door. Maybe he should put his trousers back on? Meeting someone for the first time dressed only in jersey boxers was a bit much—even for him. But every time he lifted his hand from his forehead the blood started gushing again. Struggling into a crumpled pair of trousers one-handed was more than he could think about.
He couldn’t help but smile. He knew Violet well. Her sister Rose? He didn’t know her at all. This was their first meeting. And she obviously wasn’t bowled over by him.
Will wasn’t used to that. Women normally loved him. And he normally loved women. This was a whole new experience for him.
There was more to Rose Huntingdon-Cross than met the eye. And he’d already seen more than his fair share.