Fern’s aunt was in trouble. Uncle Al turned as Aunt Maud walked unsteadily forward from the front pew and clutched her husband’s arm.

‘Take…take me home, Al,’ Maudie whispered. ‘F-fast! Oh, Fern, I’m sorry but I think I’m going to be sick…’

She turned and ran.

Fern’s uncle looked helplessly at Fern. ‘What…?’

‘Uncle, I think the wedding’s off,’ Fern said unsteadily. ‘Auntie Maud needs you.’

Al closed his eyes in disbelief and then nodded. He followed his wife, leaving Fern at the altar. Alone.

Good grief!

Well, she couldn’t stay here. Fern walked slowly to the main entrance, her fabulous bridal train sweeping unnoticed behind her.

Outside there were people climbing into cars and departing at speed. There were also people who weren’t even trying to make it home. From where she stood, Fern could see Sam’s broad back in the bushes at the side of the church. His shoulders were heaving as his stomach rid itself of whatever was troubling it.

Fern’s heart wrenched in pity. Poor Sam. He’d planned this magnificent wedding for years-and now this!

What on earth had he eaten? What on earth had they all eaten?

She started down the steps towards Sam but then paused.

‘Some wedding!’

The voice behind her made Fern jump.

The voice was deep, resonant and, astonishingly, laced with laughter. Fern didn’t have to turn around to know who the voice belonged to. The unknown wedding guest!

‘What on earth have you been feeding your guests?’ the stranger demanded. Then, as Fern stayed silent-staring out at Sam and the surrounding chaos-he placed a cool hand on the bare skin exposed by the dropped shoulders of Fern’s gown and twisted her round to face him.

‘Well, Dr Rycroft?’ he asked. The stranger met her stunned gaze with a quizzical arch of mobile brows. His penetrating eyes demanded a response.