The Stolen Bride. Jacqueline Diamond

      “Good.” Erin beamed. He wondered if she had any idea of how appealing she struck him with those lively eyes and a mouth that fit naturally into a curve.

      She’d never been vain about her appearance or her social position. Sometimes Joseph used to forget she came from a rich family. It hadn’t mattered so much when they were kids, but he’d learned long ago that it mattered to adults.

      They passed a cluster of cottages. Farther along the pavement, a Do Not Enter sign marked the point where the road became private.

      They curved past a stand of eucalyptus on the sprawling estate. When the Boldings’ house emerged into view, Joseph didn’t like it any more than he had the first time he saw it six months ago. Maybe less.

      He’d arrived the night of Alice’s near drowning to see police spotlights playing across the water and red lights blinking atop a welter of emergency vehicles. The structure sat in a hollow, its jutting roof giving it the appearance of a brooding misanthrope with hunched shoulders.

      He wondered again how Lance Bolding had persuaded aristocratic Alice Marshall to give up her palace for this low-slung house on the far side of the lake, away from her friends and the country club. Although the wooden structure, painted tan with brown trim, had its own pier on the glittering lake, he found it depressing.

      The place hadn’t grown on Joseph during his investigation. After reading about Erin’s accident, he’d disliked the thought of her staying out here. He found the atmosphere toxic, both literally and figuratively.

      He halted on the turnaround. A covered porch the width of the house supported a glider seat and small table. “This place reminds me of a Louisiana plantation gone to seed.”

      “It is gloomy, isn’t it?” Erin made no move to get out. “But the lake’s pretty.”

      “That depends.” He decided not to make any further reference to her mother’s close call. “You’ve got a key, I hope?”

      “Yes.” Erin reached into her purse. Joseph came around to escort her.

      As she emerged, sunlight picked out the blue-white clarity of the diamonds in her tiara and choker. “You’d better leave those behind unless they belong to you,” he said. “I wouldn’t put it past Lance to file a theft report.”

      “Actually, they were a wedding present from Chet.”

      “Chet makes that kind of money?” He stopped short of asking how much they’d cost. Maybe they were artificial, but he doubted it.

      “We pay our CEO well,” Erin told him. “I’ll send them back, of course.”

      When they entered the house, the smell that hit Joseph was a mixture of furniture polish and stale air heavy with moisture from the lake. Drawn curtains plunged the living room into semi-gloom.

      At least Alice had brought with her the beautiful antique furnishings from her former home. Chosen with taste, the curving divan and beveled-glass china cabinet retained a lightness that brought to mind happier times. Inside the cabinet, row after row of charming bells—glass and ceramic and metal, lovingly collected over many years—sat silent.

      He knew from his investigation that no servants lived on the property, and the only full-time staff was the housekeeper. Even so, Joseph called out “Hello?” a couple of times and listened to his voice echo through the rooms. No one answered.

      “Wait while I check it out,” he told Erin.

      She frowned in confusion. “There’s nobody here.”

      “Humor me.” Drawing his gun, he moved quickly from room to room. It wasn’t a proper search. He would never go through a house alone if he believed there was someone lying in wait. But it reassured him that they weren’t likely to meet any surprises.

      “Go ahead,” he told Erin on returning to the front room.

      “I have to change,” she said. “I’ll work as fast as I can.”

      “Need any help?”

      “Changing?” She started to smile. “That’s quite an offer.”

      “I didn’t mean…” Joseph ducked his head. “I was thinking your dress must be complicated. But you wouldn’t want me fumbling with it. I’ve got butterfingers.” And a tongue tied in knots, he thought in embarrassment.

      When she was amused, Erin glowed. It should happen more often, he thought. “You don’t have to tell me! Remember that Santa Claus costume? When you first put it on, you had a beard growing out of your ear.”

      “I did not!”

      “Yes, you did. It was cute.” Her face tilted toward him. For a moment, she became again a laughing girl of fifteen and he was seventeen, so much in love he couldn’t see straight. He had to kiss her.

      Joseph stopped. He wasn’t a kid, and besides, he’d come here to protect Erin, not indulge himself. “Better hurry. We don’t want to be here when your parents get back.”

      “Oh.” With a visible effort, she recovered her poise. “I won’t be long.” She whisked away, leaving a floral scent in her wake.

      Since he considered himself to be on an investigation despite the chief’s orders, Joseph scanned the area. In violent households, one might expect to find a broken lamp or a dent in the wall. He saw none.

      Moving to the lake side of the house, he glanced into the sunroom. Through a wall of windows, daylight gleamed across enough wedding presents to stock a department store. Despite the brevity of the engagement, friends had showered the bridal couple with heaps of silver, crystal and china.

      After checking through a front window to make sure no cars had pulled in, Joseph paced the living room as the minutes ticked by. Finally Erin rejoined him, toting a suitcase and an overnight bag. She’d swapped the wedding gown and diamonds for a pair of jeans, a pink sweater and a simple pearl necklace.

      “I hope I didn’t take too long.” She glanced past him to the table covered with gifts. “Oh, my! Those all have to be returned. I should write notes to the guests, too.”

      “Unless you plan to hire a moving van, I suggest you let your mother take care of it,” Joseph said. “Besides, no one expects you to write notes in your condition.”

      “But it’s my responsibility.”

      “Who appointed you the world’s only perfect person?” It was a phrase he’d used often when they were teenagers.

      “I’m being Little Goody Two Shoes again. You’re right. Without your healthy corrupting influence, I slipped right back into the role,” she teased.

      He didn’t bother to ask how a corrupting influence could be healthy. He understood what she meant.

      On a message pad, Erin wrote a message to her mother. “Okay, how’s this? I’m asking her to return the gifts and give the diamonds to Chet. She can leave them with Betsy—she’s the board secretary at the office.”

      “Sounds good.” Joseph was glad she didn’t insist on handing them to Chet herself. No matter what the etiquette books said, as far as he was concerned, the less contact between them, the better.

      “Well, that’s that.” Erin signed the note. “Mom can reach me on my cell phone.”

      “Have you decided where you’re going?” Taking the suitcase, Joseph led her onto the porch.

      “Not yet.” After locking up, she dropped the key through the mail slot. Joseph would have advised her to hold on to it in case of emergency, but she’d beaten him to the punch. “Before I know what I can afford, I need to consult Stanley Rogers at the company. In addition to being the chief financial officer, he manages my trust fund. Until he gets in on Monday, I don’t have much money with me.”

      “Excuse me?” A multimillionaire, and she made it sound as