c-fa76-5228-a3c2-22515d90ed30">
Mills & Boon is proud to present a fabulous collection of fantastic novels by bestselling, much loved author
ANNE MATHER
Anne has a stellar record of achievement within the publishing industry, having written over one hundred and sixty books, with worldwide sales of more than forty-eight MILLION copies in multiple languages.
This amazing collection of classic stories offers a chance for readers to recapture the pleasure Anne’s powerful, passionate writing has given.
We are sure you will love them all!
I’ve always wanted to write—which is not to say I’ve always wanted to be a professional writer. On the contrary, for years I only wrote for my own pleasure and it wasn’t until my husband suggested sending one of my stories to a publisher that we put several publishers’ names into a hat and pulled one out. The rest, as they say, is history. And now, one hundred and sixty-two books later, I’m literally—excuse the pun—staggered by what’s happened.
I had written all through my infant and junior years and on into my teens, the stories changing from children’s adventures to torrid gypsy passions. My mother used to gather these manuscripts up from time to time, when my bedroom became too untidy, and dispose of them! In those days, I used not to finish any of the stories and Caroline, my first published novel, was the first I’d ever completed. I was newly married then and my daughter was just a baby, and it was quite a job juggling my household chores and scribbling away in exercise books every chance I got. Not very professional, as you can imagine, but that’s the way it was.
These days, I have a bit more time to devote to my work, but that first love of writing has never changed. I can’t imagine not having a current book on the typewriter—yes, it’s my husband who transcribes everything on to the computer. He’s my partner in both life and work and I depend on his good sense more than I care to admit.
We have two grown-up children, a son and a daughter, and two almost grown-up grandchildren, Abi and Ben. My e-mail address is [email protected] and I’d be happy to hear from any of my wonderful readers.
Lure of Eagles
Anne Mather
Table of Contents
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
HE really was the most disturbing man she had ever met, Domine reflected broodingly. It was not that he was good-looking, though she had to admit his dark-skinned features were not unpleasing. But no one could call that aggressive nose and those hooded eyes handsome, or compliment the thin-lipped cruelty of his mouth. His eyes, too, were a contradiction of the melting Latin eyes she had expected. Dark, so as to appear almost black at times, and without any conceivable warmth that she could see. He wore his clothes well, of course, and the dark suits he favoured accentuated the lean strength of his body, the long legs so casually crossed as he spoke politely to her brother.
Yet it was something more than that which prompted Domine’s conclusion. Perhaps it was inherent in the man himself, she considered. A combination of the charm he could wield when he chose, the air of indolence which they had learned could be so quickly discarded, and the ruthlessness of purpose he could exhibit when he spoke of his reasons for being in England. When he spoke, Domine always seemed to find herself listening, which was disconcerting to someone accustomed to finding the opposite sex somewhat boring and immature. But then what else could she expect, when from her earliest years she had been cosseted and admired by every male she came into contact with?
Was that it? she pondered, her thoughts fastening to this possibility. Was his lack of apparent interest responsible for the strange fascination he had for her? It was possible, she supposed, but hardly likely. He was not the kind of man she would have expected herself to be attracted to. She was a modern girl, with modern ideals, while he came from one of the most ancient civilisations of the Western World, with all its conventionality and taboos, and it was obvious to her, if not to her brother, that he had no intention of relaxing his rigid control of the situation.
He was an alien being in that very English room, she thought, her nerves tightening a little when she contemplated the uncertainty of their future. When Grandpa was alive, everything had seemed so safe and secure, their lives stretching ahead of them smoothly, without any sign of difficulty or upheaval. Of course, Grandpa and Mark had rowed a lot, particularly when Mark went on one of his gambling sprees and lost a month’s allowance in one night, but Domine had never seriously believed that Grandpa would deprive her brother of the cotton mills from which he had made his fortune. It was all a little unreal—Grandpa’s will had been unreal, the existence of their cousin seemed unreal, and the presence here in their drawing room of Señor Luis Delgado Aguilar was the most unreal of all.
Trying not to listen too blatantly to what Mark was saying, Domine forced her attention back to the room. It was a nice room, a pleasant room, the room she remembered from that awful morning when she was six years old, and Grandpa broke the news that her father’s yacht had capsized in the South Atlantic. Then it had not seemed at all a pleasant room, but Grandpa had held her close in his arms and told her that from now on she and Mark must consider Griffons their home, and the terror had receded. She had never known her mother. She had died a few weeks after Domine was born, and although her father had recovered from the blow, he had not married again. Consequently, Grandpa had become the pivot, the focal point of their whole world, and only Mark’s excesses had served to create trouble between them.
When Domine was
