He didn’t know where Juliet was or why she’d disappeared before she could walk down the aisle, but despite his personal feelings on the topic, he wouldn’t rest easy until he at least knew that she was safe.
* * *
Careful of her footing, Juliet wrapped the sides of her unbuttoned cardigan more tightly around her torso and followed the steep, uphill trail from the dock back to her family’s cabin. No one had been out to the Vermont lake house for quite some time, so the path was overgrown, the boat was still in storage and the inside of the house was in need a good dusting.
As far as Juliet was concerned, that made it the perfect spot to hide out for a while. She was thinking forever, but knew realistically that she could probably only stretch it out for a few days to a week, and she’d been here two days already.
She was a coward for running away for even that long. She should have walked into that vestibule and told her family there was something she needed to confide to them, just as she should have told them when she’d called things off with Paul the first time. Should have walked to the front of the church or asked Paul to come back and speak to her, then told him she’d changed her mind—again.
What was it about him, about the expectations of her family, even, that made her such a pushover and chicken?
Regardless of what anyone might have thought of her actions or mind-set, she shouldn’t have tucked tail and run. But darned if she could regret the decision. Even the thought of remaining in that church, in that gown, a moment longer than she had was enough to start her hyperventilating.
Never mind the idea of actually walking down the aisle. She was certain she would have passed out right there between the pews if she’d forced herself to go through with it. Or possibly thrown up on some of the guests, since an upset stomach had become her close and frequent companion.
The one thing she knew for sure was that she was going to have a lot of explaining to do when she got back. To everyone.
Already, her cell phone’s voice-mail box was filled to overflowing. According to the call log, it had started ringing only moments after she’d fled the church. As soon as her sisters had realized she was missing, she assumed.
But even though she knew her family must be worried sick, and the frequent ringing and beeping of her phone had driven her almost batty, she hadn’t bothered to check missed calls or listen to messages. She hadn’t even taken the time to turn the phone off until she’d been on the road and well away from Manhattan.
Instead, she’d hurried back to the loft she shared with her sisters, ignoring the strange looks she received from random strangers for racing around in public in her full-skirted, custom-made fairy-princess bridal gown, and grabbed her phone, money and a single change of clothes. She hadn’t known where she was going or how long she’d be gone, but even though she hadn’t wanted to take the time to slip out of the wedding dress right then and there, she’d suspected racing around in the thing would get old fast.
She’d been on the road a couple hours before deciding to head for the lake house, partly because she knew it would be well stocked with everything from food to clothing. Reception was lousy, though, so once she finally turned off her cell, it was doubtful anyone could reach her unless they sent up smoke signals or parachuted in.
And it was only for a few days, she told herself again. Just until she cleared her head and figured out what to do...about everything.
She was panting slightly as she reached the top of the hill and the end of the path that led into the clearing surrounding the cabin. It was brighter here, and warmer with the sun shining down on the house through the break in the trees.
Shading her eyes, she followed one long side of the wraparound porch railing to the front door...and came to a screeching halt at the sight of a hunter-green Range Rover parked right behind her silver-blue BMW.
Her heart lurched. Who did it belong to? Had someone followed her, or was it a complete stranger? And if it was a stranger, had he simply happened by—hard to do when the cabin was nearly impossible to find without directions—or was he, or she, up to no good?
A dozen home invasion/hostage movie-of-the-week scenarios played through her head and she swallowed nervously, wondering if she should move forward to investigate or race back the way she’d come to hide in the woods or hike into town for help.
Before she could make a decision, she heard a creak and heavy footsteps clipped across the porch floor. Her head swiveled and she found herself staring up into the dark, dangerous eyes of Reid McCormack.
One corner of his mouth lifted in a humorless, almost feral grin. “Hey there, runaway bride.”