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“I wonder what’s going through your mind,” Lucas said lazily About the Author Title Page CHAPTER ONE CHAPTER TWO CHAPTER THREE CHAPTER FOUR CHAPTER FIVE CHAPTER SIX CHAPTER SEVEN CHAPTER EIGHT CHAPTER NINE Copyright
“I wonder what’s going through your mind,” Lucas said lazily
Anet froze, then produced a smile. “I was thinking that willpower—determination—is an important quality.”
He watched her with brilliant, half-closed eyes. “Very. Of course, too much—or wrongly directed—and it can be dangerous.”
“So can anything,” she retorted.
Leaning back in his chair, he asked dryly, “Compassion?”
“If it becomes overprotective and debilitating.”
“You’re a hard woman.” A smile failed to take the sting from the words.
“Possibly.” She wasn’t going to let him get away with that. “Any emotion or attribute can become dangerous if it’s allowed free rein. Even too much common sense can deprive a life of excitement and joy.”
“So you don’t believe in allowing a grand passion free rein?”
She hesitated, conscious that beneath the amused tone and light mockery there was something else. “No,” she said cautiously.
Olivia Nicholls and the two half sisters Anet and Jan Carruthers are all born survivors—but, so far, unlucky in love. Things change, however, when an eighteenth-century miniature portrait of a beautiful and mysterious young woman passes into each of their hands. It may be coincidence, it may not! The portrait is meant to be a charm to bring love to the lives of those who possess it—but there is one condition:
I found Love as you’ll find yours,
and trust it will be true, This Portrait is a fated charm To speed your Love to you.
But if you be not Fortune’s Fool
Once your heart’s Desire is nigh, Pass on my likeness as Cupid’s Tool Or your Love will fade and die.
Meant to Marry is Anet’s story and the second title in Robyn Donald’s captivating new trilogy THE MARRIAGE MAKER. Look out next month for Jan’s story in The Final Proposal, which concludes the trilogy and solves the mystery of the haunting image in the portrait.
Meant To Marry
Robyn Donald
CHAPTER ONE
‘AND who,’ Georgia Sanderson purred to her companion, ‘do you think this is?’
Anet Carruthers turned slightly. The newcomer was haloed by a dazzle of sunlight so that all she could see was his outline, but that was enough to sharpen the strange apprehension that troubled her as he strode along the dock towards them. Anet was accustomed to being the tallest person around, and her astonished glance told her that this man towered over her by at least four inches and, like her, was big-boned and strong.
Her gaze slid helplessly to an extremely handsome face, its autocratic framework revealing an authority and control she could only envy. Big as he was, he didn’t carry an ounce of excess weight. Wide shoulders narrowed to lean hips and long, heavily muscled legs. And in spite of his size there was nothing ponderous about him; he walked with the smooth, athletic grace of a supremely fit man.
Although Anet immediately turned back to the tourist group on the diving vessel, she was left with an impression of inborn mastery, of a dominance that was both uncompromising and dangerously compelling.
Trust Georgia to notice him first. Anet’s sister Jan, who moved in the same circles in Auckland as the beautiful redhead, said that Georgia’s antennae were always at the ready for a good-looking man. It was not a compliment. Jan and Georgia did not like each other. Now Anet noticed the woman’s green eyes darken with alert anticipation as the tip of her tongue flicked across her full mouth, moistening its already lustrous sheen.
Not just Georgia either! Every other woman on board watched the man on the wharf with the same intent, intrigued awareness, paying involuntary female homage to his unforced masculinity.
Lord, Anet thought with edgy exasperation, he must be sending off pheromones like nobody’s business. Thank heavens she didn’t go in for all that man-woman stuff!
Pitching her voice to be heard above the soft wash of the waves against the dock, the bustle of the wharf and the ever-present sigh of the trade winds that cooled the South Pacific island of Fala’isi, she went into her spiel.
‘Before we leave the dock,’ she said, smiling with what she hoped was a confident, professional charm, ‘do check to make sure every exposed inch of skin is slathered in waterproof sunscreen. Ears can get burnt very badly, and so can ankles and the insides of your knees—even the soles of your feet.’
Her gaze lingered a moment on Georgia. Scott, bless his generous heart, had responded to the other woman’s impudent use of Jan’s name with an offer of a free morning’s diving for her and her friend. Irritated, Anet had had to stand silently by and endure Georgia’s sly, satisfied smile.
‘I’m already wearing sunscreen,’ Georgia said, dragging her eyes away from the approaching man to reject Anet’s unspoken comment with a haughty stare.
There was no tell-tale gleam on that silken, pale skin.
Stifling her exasperation, Anet returned, ‘Not enough,
