Lure Of Eagles

Lure Of Eagles
Anne Mather

Mills & Boon are excited to present The Anne Mather Collection – the complete works by this classic author made available to download for the very first time! These books span six decades of a phenomenal writing career, and every story is available to read unedited and untouched from their original release.  Against her better judgement…What do you do when a complete stranger walks into your life and insists you go to deepest Peru? If the stranger is as staggeringly gorgeous and effortlessly suave as Luis Delgado Aguilar, you go! Especially when your treacherous cousin has claimed your rightful inheritance, and Luis is the only person who can help… At first Domine is furious at this outrageously impractical suggestion. But second thoughts – and a compelling attraction to Luis – quickly change her mind. Domine soon finds herself on a journey that will change her life…

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 mystic-am@msn.com (mailto:mystic-am@msn.com) and I’d be happy to hear from any of my wonderful readers.

Lure of Eagles

Anne Mather

www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)

Table of Contents

Cover (#u0aad5be2-b17f-52a9-a47b-33662a8f77b6)

About the Author (#udc0a06a8-b2e0-5f82-89cf-e46ec7e2f59f)

Title Page (#u2ba0a6a3-fa6e-584d-8e69-bcf7615d51bb)

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER ONE (#u16462627-001c-51a9-a4ba-dc5c4d111d10)

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 younger, she had not understood all that Grandpa accused Mark of. Mark was ten years older than she was, and had already seemed grown up when their father was drowned. She had not known who ‘Edward’ was, or why Mark should so continually be identified with him. Later, she had learned that Edward was, or had been, their uncle, Grandpa’s eldest son, who he had disinherited when he ran away and married some flibbertigibbet showgirl, or at least, that was how Grandpa had described her. Apparently he had given up his studies at the university, and taken to painting birds and wild flowers, encouraged, it appeared, by his feckless wife.

Of course, Grandpa never had any time for artistic things. Brains and brass, he used to say, they were all that mattered, and naturally Mark’s penchant for the good things of life had given birth to the friction between them. Perhaps Mark was more like his uncle than his father. Certainly, James Temple had never disappointed his father. His only weakness had been sailing, and the holiday he had taken when his yacht capsized had been his first for many years.

It was strange that they had never heard what had happened to Edward and his wife, but then why should they? They had never imagined Grandpa would relent. In his considered opinion, Mark was as irresponsible as Edward used to be, therefore any change of heart was highly unlikely. What they had not known, but which Grandpa had, apparently, was that Edward and his wife had been killed some eight years ago in an earthquake in Peru, and their only child, a daughter, Lisel, had been put in the care of the nuns at the convent of the Holy Sceptre in Puerto Limas. What Edward and his wife had been doing in Peru had not been explained, but obviously their grandfather had kept in touch with the Sisters at the convent, and assured himself regularly of the girl’s welfare.

Why he had left the mills and their considerable income to Edward’s daughter was not so easy to understand, or forgive, but Domine still felt too stunned to nourish any resentment. Only Griffons remained, as a bulwark against the future, given to herself and Mark jointly, to live in or sell as they wished. Mark had been left an income, but knowing his extravagant life-style, it would hardly be sufficient to keep him in pocket money, and although Domine’s own allowance was to be increased to one thousand pounds a year, it would hardly be enough to pay the rates on Griffons, let alone support and feed her. Grandpa had left her a message, something about expecting her to use the education he had given her, and not to let Mark sponge upon her, as he had done frequently in the past. She guessed, rather wryly, that even if her grandfather had been tempted to leave the mills to her, he would never have done so. He distrusted Mark, and he distrusted his influence over her. He would never believe that she had a will of her own, strong enough to stand up to Mark, when she chose to do so. The trouble was, she had seldom felt inclined to oppose him, and no doubt that had been her downfall.

She sighed, somewhat cynically. Well, it was too late now. Their cousin Lisel was the heiress, and in a curious way Domine was relieved she had not been burdened with the responsibility for so many lives. There were three thousand men and women who relied on the Temple Mills for employment, and in her more generous moments she sympathised with Mark in his rebellion against such responsibility. Their grandfather had never understood why Mark had felt that way. He had thrived on work, and responsibility, and up until the day he died he had been ordering the day-to-day life of the mill offices.

Even so, that did not alter the fact that things were bound to change now, and not necessarily for the better. Her education had been sound, as Grandpa had pointed out in his last words to her, but an ability to write good English and understand half a dozen other languages was not in itself a qualification. She had never considered going to university. She had been a bright and willing pupil, but when at seventeen she had succeeded in passing her ‘A’ level examinations, she had happily left the schoolroom behind, and devoted herself to enjoyment.

Last summer she and Aunt Barbara, her great-aunt really, on her mother’s side, had toured Italy, and the countries of the Mediterranean, and at Christmas she and Mark had joined a group of other young people at a ski resort in the Bavarian Alps. This summer she was hoping to persuade her aunt to chaperon herself and a friend on a camper holiday from the east to the west coast of North America, but somehow that no longer appealed. It wasn’t just that now that Grandpa was dead there was no one to demand she take a chaperon along. It was simply that she felt too uncertain of her future to contemplate a holiday, and her longed-for independence seemed curiously flat now that it had been realised.

She could see Mark’s face getting redder and redder, and wondered what Señor Aguilar was saying to him. This morning in the solicitor’s office she thought Mark had handled himself remarkably calmly, considering the predicament he was in, but in private he was furious, and seething with resentment, an emotion he was trying hard to hide in the face of such implacable opposition.

Would it have been easier if Lisel had come herself? Domine frowned, adjusting the folds of her long velvet skirt. Of course it would. But equally, it would not have been so easy for Lisel. For one thing, she had been living with the nuns for more than eight years, since she was eleven or twelve, and naturally she was rather unworldly—or at least, that was Señor Aguilar’s description. She was, in his words, a shy retiring sort of person, a charming personality, much admired by the Peruvian Indians she served. The convent where she had been living was also a small hospital, catering to the needs of the villages around Puerto Limas, and she had recently completed her training as a nurse. Her visits away from the convent had been few and far between, except to visit the villages, and the small town of Aguilas close by, and the idea of travelling to England to meet the lawyers who presently controlled her inheritance, was naturally a terrifying proposition. That was why Señor Aguilar had come in her stead. To attend to the outstanding business on her behalf, and to meet the relatives from whom Lisel would have to learn so much.

Personally, Mark had been infuriated when they first received Aguilar’s cable. ‘Damned cheek!’ he had fumed, stamping around the house for days, and threatening to walk out before the man even arrived. ‘What the hell does he mean by interfering? Inquisitive old so-and-so! I bet he wants to see what’s in it for him, before he gives her his advice about what to do next! What in heaven’s name will he know about running a mill, or the price of wool, or where the next pay rise is coming from?’

Well, Señor Luis Delgado Aguilar was not old, at least not by Mark’s standards. He was probably thirty-five or thirty-six, at the most, and contrary to their beliefs, he knew a lot about wool and its value. He had staggered Mark by explaining that wool was in fact one of the most important exports of Peru, and continued to add that if he didn’t know that, he knew less about the wool industry than he claimed. Of course, Mark had blustered, and said that he had had better things to do than worry where the wool was coming from, and Señor Aguilar had countered this by remarking that it was just as well his grandfather had not felt the same way.

That had been at dinner. Since then, Mark had calmed down a lot. Domine guessed it had occurred to him that by incurring Señor Aguilar’s antipathy, he might also incur the antipathy of their cousin, before he had even met her, and Domine also knew that Mark was not going to walk away from a small fortune without making a fight of it. How he intended to proceed she was not quite sure, but she was convinced it must have occurred to him, as it had to her, that if Lisel was young and unmarried, she might well look with favour on a sympathetic and handsome cousin who wanted to help her.

Pressing her lips together, Domine returned her attention to the tall Peruvian, lounging with evident ease in the armchair opposite Mark. What was his interest in all this? Why had he come all this way on Lisel’s behalf? Was it merely philanthropy, or had he other motives for his generosity? Obviously Lisel had complete confidence in him, but she could hardly be experienced in the ways of the world.