Yvonne Lindsay - Claiming His Runaway Bride / High-Stakes Passion - Claiming His Runaway Bride / High-Stakes Passion

High-Society Secret Pregnancy by Maureen Child & Front Page Engagement by Laura Wright

Spaniard’s Seduction by Tessa Radley & Cole’s Red-Hot Pursuit by Brenda Jackson

Claiming His Runaway Bride by Yvonne Lindsay & High-Stakes Passion by Juliet Burns

“I don’t know you.”

“Ah, that’s where you are wrong, my beautiful wife. You know me. Intimately.”

With that he bent down. She was momentarily aware of the almost driven expression on his face before the distance between them closed and the coolness of his firm lips captured hers. She bunched her hands into fists to stop herself from lifting her arms, from curling them around his shoulders and pressing her body against his to ease the ache.

Abruptly Luc pulled away.

“See, we’re not such strangers after all.” His eyes glittered, daring her to deny the way her body had awakened in response to his kiss.

“I’ll see your ten and raise you, um, this whole stack of money,” Audrey said triumphantly.

“I don’t have any money left,” Mark said.

“Well, I guess you could bet something besides money.”

“Like what?”

Audrey stopped smiling and looked directly into Mark’s brooding blue eyes. “If I win…you stop drinking,” she said, “and you shave that awful beard!”

“What the hell kind of bet is that?”

“If you don’t think you can do it -”

“OK, Ms High-Stakes Player, let’s say we up the ante.”

“What do you mean?”

It was Mark’s turn to look smug as he clasped his hands behind his head. “I’ll see your bet by shaving my beard and I raise it by getting off the booze. Now, see my raise by wagering something I want, or fold.”

Surely he didn’t want…“Um, what do you have in mind?”

His smouldering gaze slid down her body. “I think you know exactly what I want. Now, do you fold, or play?”

BY

BY

MILLS & BOON ®

www.millsandboon.co.uk

New Zealand born, to Dutch immigrant parents, Yvonne Lindsaybecame an avid romance reader at the age of thirteen. Now, married to her blind date and with two surprisingly amenable teenagers, she remains a firm believer in the power of romance. Yvonne feels privileged to be able to bring to her readers the stories of her heart. In her spare time, when not writing, she can be found with her nose firmly in a book, reliving the power of love in all walks of life. She can be contacted via her website, www.yvonnelindsay.com.

Dear Reader,

As a child I always loved fairy tales—in fact, I never tired of reading them over and over again. Having children of my own was a chance to relive those tales of wonder—of the course of true love never running smooth, of happy ever after. One story that always spoke to my heart, as a child and as an adult, was Beauty and the Beast. I think it’s the whole “Love Conquers All” that just gets to me—the unwavering belief that true love can break the wickedest of spells and redeem the hardest of hearts. Anyway, suffice it to say that I’ve always been a bit of a romantic, and when I first started thinking about Claiming His Runaway Bride it was a simple matter to go for a Beauty and the Beast theme. My convoluted mind just couldn’t help but add an amnesiac runaway bride to the mix.

When I start my romance novels I always think very hard about the setting, and in all the beauty that is New Zealand I’m spoiled for choice. A part of the North Island I’ve always loved has been the Taupo district. Lake Taupo is the largest lake in the country, and the scenery around the area is exquisite in its beauty and diversity. Tourists travel from far and wide to appreciate the splendour of the countryside—especially those who enjoy outdoor pursuits. My “Beast” needed his own castle and domain, and what better area than the rugged strength and power of the hills to the southeast of Lake Taupo, where hunting, fishing and tramping reign supreme. And so Luc’s Tautara Lodge was created as an exclusive luxury adventure-holiday empire.

I hope you enjoy my own version of a modern fairy tale.

Best wishes,

Yvonne

This one is for my beautiful girls, Morgan and Tegan. One day your prince/s will come…:)

His wife?

How could she have forgotten something like that?

Someone like him?

Belinda eyed the silent stranger standing beside her father at the foot of her hospital bed. Tall, and looking as if his designer clothes were just a little too large on his frame, the stranger stood with his left hand in his trouser pocket, his right hand resting on the knob of a shiny black cane.

She didn’t even know his name. How could she be married to him and have no knowledge of it? Fear choked her throat.

His glittering green eyes never left her face. An intangible thread of something—was it anger?—burned just below the surface. His expression remained inscrutable. The hard lines of his face spoke of an iron will—this was not a man who tolerated fools.

Her breath hitched. She didn’t know him—how could they expect her to go home with a total stranger? Belinda cast a frightened look at her father. The smile he returned seemed strained; the lines on his face deeper than usual. Suddenly her desire to be released from her room here at Auckland City Hospital fled, and the place she’d itched to be free of assumed proportions more in line with a much-sought-after sanctuary.

A disturbing thought occurred to her.

“If you’re my husband why haven’t you been here at my side, like my parents have? It’s two weeks since I came out of the coma.” Her challenge rang hollowly across the room.

Belinda intercepted a glance between her father and the man who claimed to be her husband, saw the imperceptible nod her father gave.

“Well?” she demanded, her hands fisting in the bedclothes.

“The accident that took your memory also caused me injury. I am fit to return home now. With you.”

There was a great deal he wasn’t saying, and what he left unsaid caused her more anxiety than the realisation he too had been hospitalised. She’d been treated with kid gloves by the medical staff and her parents since she’d regained consciousness, everyone prepared to give her medical answers but nothing else. Not even the details of the accident that had left her in a coma for four weeks. Throughout the past two weeks of tests and examinations, her doctors had tried to find the cause of her amnesia and had come to the conclusion it was not a direct result of the blow to her head that she’d sustained in a car accident. She’d overheard the words “traumatic amnesia” and “hysterical amnesia” being discussed in low tones.

The last had made her shudder. Did that make her crazy, she wondered, that she chose to forget a part of her life that for anyone should have been full of excitement, fun and passion? Or did she have good reason to want to forget?

She looked again at the stranger. The slightly less-than-perfect fit of his clothing now made sense if he had been stuck in hospital. Had he been too incapacitated to see her? Did a lengthy stay in bed explain his gauntness? She had no doubt that he was the type of man who paid attention to every detail, and that under normal circumstances his clothing would conform to his body as if tailor-made.