‘Can you…? You will check Sam before you go? Please…?’

‘I’ll check your beloved,’ Quinn said grimly. ‘Just make it worth my while by finding Lizzy fast.’

Fern nodded, lifting her skirts high and breaking into a run.

Bridal chicken in full flight…

She needed a car.

There was only one car available in front of the church-the big white limousine in which her uncle had been planning to drive the newly married pair to the reception. It stood deserted, beribboned in white satin, white net over the back seat and a set of bride and groom dolls smiling at the world from the back shelf.

The dolls must be the only happy couple on the island!

The keys were in the ignition.

It was all Fern needed.

Ignoring the impulse to pick up the dolls and throw them as far as she could, Fern wedged herself into the driver’s seat. The hoops of her bridal gown welled up around the steering column.

Good grief…

Get on with it, Fern…

She started the car and put her satined foot on the accelerator, all the while crazily aware of the dark figure on the church steps, watching…

She could feel Quinn Gallagher’s eyes still on her until she rounded the bend and was out of sight of the church.

It was all she could do not to glance back.

It was the end of her wedding.

For good?

That was a crazy notion. They could try again tomorrow, Fern thought, and closed her eyes at the idea of the reorganisation her aunt would insist on.

Aunt Maud wouldn’t be well enough tomorrow. Or the next day either, Fern thought savagely. Fern’s aunt had seemed weak and out of sorts since Fern had arrived home on the island and Fern had fretted that Maud seemed to be ageing early. Lizzy Hurst should have calculated the effects her horrid oysters would have on people like Aunt Maud.

Quinn would be learning the effects of the poison on the island’s invalids right now, Fern thought bleakly, and for a wild moment she wished that she was driving beside him to check on the two islanders they were concerned about.