Wedding Party Collection: Don't Tell The Bride. Kelly Hunter

      ‘Yes.’

      ‘It’s hardly a secret.’

      ‘I know. But you usually don’t like admitting it.’

      ‘I’m older and wiser now. I also don’t mind admitting complete ignorance as to why we’re here. You do realise that I can’t remember anything about why that yacht is so important? Or who you think might be on it.’

      ‘I realise.’

      ‘Care to share?’

      ‘Not really. Honeymoon, remember?’

      ‘I do remember.’ Lena stared up at the towering castle. ‘That is a big castle.’

      ‘I know. The view from the top of that turret is going to be great.’

      ‘Maybe if I had a week,’ she joked dryly. ‘I used to have a healthy relationship with steps. Now they just send me weak in the knees.’

      ‘I’ll carry you,’ he heard himself suggest.

      ‘That’ll wear you out,’ she said. ‘Let’s just see a bit of the museum.’

      They managed to get through half of one wing of the museum before closing time. They took it easy and avoided steps.

      And Lena wore herself out anyway.

      ‘Aches don’t count if you had fun getting them,’ she told him as they waited for their ride back to the hotel. ‘It also makes relaxing at the end of the day so good. Please tell me it’s the end of the day.’

      ‘There’s still dinner and dancing to go.’

      ‘Oh.’ Lena visibly wilted. ‘Right.’

      ‘Aches don’t count if you have fun getting them.’ Trig grinned. Lena thumped him and for a split second all was well with his world.

      The sun had slid low in the sky by the time they arrived back at the hotel. Lena had stiffened up during the drive and Trig watched her take her time getting out of the car. He didn’t miss a wince. Neither did the driver.

      ‘We have a heated bathing pool that is very relaxing,’ the driver told them as he escorted them to the front of the house.

      ‘You mean the one in the room?’ asked Lena.

      ‘In addition to the one in the room.’

      ‘I love Turkey,’ murmured Lena.

      ‘Also an in-house masseuse.’

      ‘Perfect. What’s the dress code for this bathing pool?’

      ‘Swimwear is, of course, required. But the bathing caps need not be worn. The hair need not need be covered.’

      ‘That’s a requirement in some places?’

      ‘In some places it is so. For cultural reasons, you understand. The bathing in such establishments is also segregated. But not here.’ The driver glanced at Trig. ‘Shall I arrange beverages for two out by the pool?’

      ‘Not for me. I have some calls to make,’ said Trig. ‘But Lena might like something.’

      ‘What would you suggest?’ Lena asked the driver.

      ‘For the thirsty I might suggest susurluk ayrani. It is a chilled drink made from yoghurt and garnished with mint. Very refreshing.’

      ‘I would like to feel refreshed,’ said Lena.

      ‘You want me to bring your swimmers out to the pool?’ Trig had guilt now. Lots and lots of guilt on account of all the walking he’d encouraged Lena to do today.

      ‘No, I’ll change in the room. I want to do it in front of the mirror next to the Tinkerbell lamp, just in case the mirror tells me I’m the fairest of them all.’

      ‘I wouldn’t discount it.’

      ‘And I wouldn’t want to miss it. You don’t mind me taking a dip and leaving you to your own devices for a while?’ she asked.

      ‘Not at all. Take your time. Relax.’

      ‘You know what would make that sentence perfect? If you added, “I’ll order dinner for us and I’ll get them to set it up in our little courtyard garden.”’

      ‘You don’t want to go back into Bodrum?’

      ‘I really don’t want to go back into Bodrum. We could dine and dance here. You could put me straight to bed when I fall asleep with my head on your shoulder, having mistaken you for a gently swaying mountain.’

      ‘Tempting.’

      ‘I knew you’d see it my way.’

      ‘Go and bathe. I’ll have a menu sent to you out by the pool. You do realise that I’m indulging you completely?’

      ‘You’re a good man.’

      ‘I’ll see what the mirror says.’ He was pretty sure the mirror would call him a fool.

      Lena headed towards the suite. Trig headed back out through those massive entrance doors and decided to investigate the hotel perimeter. He was nosey that way, and he needed privacy in order to make a call.

      He pulled out Damon’s phone and checked for messages. From Jared. From Damon. From anyone.

      Nothing.

      He put a call through to Damon next.

      ‘I’m in Bodrum in a concubine’s lair overlooking the castle of St Peter,’ he said, when Damon picked up.

      ‘Amen,’ said Damon.

      ‘That all you got?’

      ‘I can always put Ruby on. She might have more.’

      ‘Do that.’

      ‘No. How’s Lena?’

      ‘She still thinks we’re on our honeymoon.’

      ‘Then why aren’t you on a plane?’

      ‘Because I’m following a lead on Jared. There’s a mega yacht hereabouts called the Jericho3. I need to know more about it. Ownership. Specs. Whatever you can find within the next eight hours.’

      ‘You thinking of paying it a visit?’

      ‘No. I’m thinking that would be suicide. My best hope is that Jared’s worked his way onto it. Worst-case scenario—he’s a prisoner on it.’

      ‘How are you going to find out which?’

      ‘Hopefully, Jared’s going to show himself.’

      ‘Assuming he can.’

      ‘Yeah,’ muttered Trig. ‘Let’s assume that for now.’

      ‘Are you letting Lena in on any of this?’

      ‘I’m about to.’

      ‘Is that wise? She’s not exactly operational.’

      ‘I can protect her. She’s only after a glimpse of Jared. Proof that he’s alive. We’ll keep our distance.’

      ‘Does she remember wanting to see him?’

      ‘She will. And when she does, she’ll have already seen him and won’t feel inclined to go tearing after Jared again. Or would you rather I brought her home and we end up back here in another week’s time doing exactly the same thing?’

      Damon sighed.

      ‘It’s under control. I’ll bring her home as soon as she’s seen Jared. How soon can you and Ruby get to the beach house?’

      ‘About that. Are you sure you’re going to need us there?’

      ‘Your sister thinks I married her. You want me to repeat that?’

      ‘No,