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About the Author
CAROLINE ANDERSON has the mind of a butterfly. She’s been a nurse, a secretary, a teacher, run her own soft-furnishing business, and now she’s settled on writing. She says, ‘I was looking for that elusive something. I finally realised it was variety, and now I have it in abundance. Every book brings new horizons and new friends, and in between books I have learned to be a juggler. My teacher husband John and I have two beautiful and talented daughters, Sarah and Hannah, umpteen pets, and several acres of Suffolk that nature tries to reclaim every time we turn our backs!’ Caroline also writes for Mills & Boon® Cherish™.
The Fiancée He Can’t Forget
Caroline Anderson
Table of Contents
More Praise for Caroline Anderson:
More praise for Caroline Anderson:
‘Photojournalist Maisie Douglas and
businessman Robert Mackenzie have been more or less amicably divorced for almost two decades, but the upcoming marriage of their daughter, Jenni, stirs up old emotions on both sides. Very young when she married him, Maisie—pregnant and disowned by her family—was miserable living in Scotland with Rob’s judgmental parents, and left after little more than a year. Maisie hasn’t found another partner, and neither has Rob. Can they find a way to trust each other again, after all this time? This lovely reunion romance is rich with emotion and humour, and all of the characters are exquisitely rendered.’ —RT Book Reviews on MOTHER OF THE BRIDE
CHAPTER ONE
‘ARE you OK?’
Was she?
She wasn’t sure. Her heart was pounding, her legs felt like jelly and her stomach was rebelling, but it was Daisy’s wedding day, so Amy dug around and dredged up some kind of a smile.
‘I’m fine.’
‘Sure?’
‘Absolutely!’ she lied, and tried to make the smile look more convincing. She didn’t even need to ask how Daisy was. She was lit up from inside with a serene joy that was radiantly, blindingly obvious. Amy’s smile wavered. She’d felt like that once, lifetimes ago.
She tweaked Daisy’s dress for something to do and stood back. ‘Are you ready?’
Her smile glowed brighter still. ‘Oh, yes,’ Daisy said softly. ‘Do I look OK?’
Amy laughed indulgently and hugged her. ‘You look stunning. Ben will be blown away.’
‘I hope not, I want him here!’ Daisy glanced down at Florence, fizzing silently on the end of Amy’s arm, on her very best behaviour. She looked like a fairy in her pretty little dress and she was so excited Amy thought she was going to pop.
‘OK, darling?’ Daisy asked.
Florence nodded, her eyes like saucers, and for a second she looked so like Ben—so like Matt—that Amy’s heart squeezed painfully with the ache of loss.
‘Let’s go then,’ Daisy said, stooping to kiss her about-to-be stepdaughter, and with a quick, supportive hug for Amy that nearly unravelled her, she turned and took her father’s arm.
As they gave the signal for the processional music, Amy sucked in a deep, slow breath.
You can do this, she told herself desperately. Ignore him. Just keep your eyes on Daisy’s back, and you’ll be fine.
And then with Florence at her side, she fell in behind them, her eyes glued on Daisy as they walked slowly down between the rows of guests to where Ben was waiting.
Ben, and Matt.
Don’t look …
Matt’s hair was slightly longer than his twin’s, more tousled, the dark, silky strands so familiar that her fingers still remembered the feel of them. His back was ramrod straight, his shoulders broad, square, uncompromising.
She shouldn’t have looked. She should have kept her eyes on Daisy, but they wouldn’t obey her and her heart was pounding so hard she was sure he’d hear it.
Please don’t turn round …
He didn’t move a muscle.
He couldn’t see her, but he could feel her there, getting closer. She was behind him, over his left shoulder, and there was no way he was turning round to look. Just getting through the ceremony was going to be hard enough, without making it harder by rubbing salt into the wound her presence here had ripped wide open.
Not
