Savage Innocence

Savage Innocence
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.An unexpected consequence!Isobel Dorland has always yearned for a family. But although Jared is utterly gorgeous and totally irresistible, she knows that their affair has no future. In the meantime though, she’s going to have some fun!When Isobel gets pregnant – it is definitely the wrong time, and the wrong man! Resolved to bring up her baby alone, Isobel flees. But she hasn’t reckoned on Jared’s quiet determination… He wants her – and it’s only a matter of time before he discovers where she is…

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.

Savage Innocence

Anne Mather

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

CONTENTS

Cover (#u02dd2854-5f80-56f8-9371-2610bc0e14cb)

About the Author (#u95fc0619-becc-5ec4-b013-977a4d92ffb7)

Title Page (#u8d61a249-2e0d-5766-addd-7f11da64e2e9)

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

EPILOGUE

Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER ONE (#u631a5a41-2ef1-5cf4-a2d2-a609a9edf935)

IT WAS incredibly hot and airless in the attic. Despite its being a fairly cool July day outside, whatever sun there’d been in recent weeks seemed to have been trapped here in the roof void, and Isobel panted a little as she clambered over trunks and cardboard boxes that hadn’t seen the light of day for years.

It was her own fault, of course. She could have refused to do it—though she had to admit she hadn’t expected that clearing the house would prove such an arduous task. Sitting back on her heels, surveying the accumulation of what was little more than junk that had collected here over the years, she tried not to feel anxious. But she wondered if she hadn’t bitten off more than she could chew.

But there was no one else willing to do it. Marion wouldn’t dream of soiling her hands by climbing up here. Besides, as she was always telling Isobel, there simply weren’t enough hours in the day to do all she had to do anyway. And Malcolm wouldn’t thank her if she gave what little time she had to sorting her late mother’s rubbish. Her husband saw little enough of her as it was.

Isobel, who taught at the local comprehensive, was assumed to be able to take a day off to deal with the aftermath of a family bereavement without any problem at all. If her classes had to be covered by someone else, or she got behind in her marking schedule, she’d have to deal with it. Marion had people depending on her, staff, whom she couldn’t possibly neglect to dispose of her mother’s things.

Isobel supposed it was true. As well as having a husband and an eight-year-old daughter, Emily, Marion also ran her own employment agency. She was always busy interviewing people or attending ‘important’ meetings. Isobel sometimes wondered why she’d bothered to get married at all.

Isobel wasn’t married, which she knew delighted Marion immensely. She knew little of her sister’s private life, of course, but the fact that Isobel didn’t have a steady boyfriend pleased her no end. Isobel’s best friend, Michelle Chambers, said it was because Marion was jealous of her. But why Marion should be jealous of her adopted sister didn’t seem to make much sense, in Isobel’s view.

Isobel thought Marion was basically unhappy. Despite her assertions to the contrary, she never seemed to enjoy her success. Isobel knew their mother had seen more of Emily than Marion had been able to, and the little girl was going to miss her grandmother terribly.

Mrs Dorland had died six weeks ago. She’d been suffering from a terminal illness for the past three years, so no one was actually shocked by her death. But, for all that, Isobel was amazed at the gulf her mother’s loss had left in her life. There was so much she hadn’t told her; so much she wanted to tell her now.

Although she’d initially put off Marion’s suggestion that the house should be cleared, she’d known that sooner or later she would have to do it. Their father had died some years ago, and although Isobel wasn’t married she no longer lived at home, which meant the house in Jesmond Dene was now empty. But she’d known that disposing of her mother’s belongings would be painful, and she’d waited until the emotional dust had settled before tackling the job.

Now, however, she didn’t have a choice. She was going away herself soon, and Marion was agitating about selling the house while the market was still buoyant. Isobel knew Marion’s share of the proceeds was earmarked for the business, and she wished she could insist that her sister had it all.

But the solicitor had been quite adamant on that point. Mrs Dorland’s will stated clearly that both her daughters should inherit in equal shares. As far as her mother was concerned, she’d never made any distinction between them, and Isobel had sometimes wondered whether that was why Marion had always worked so hard to gain her parents’ approval.

It had been easy enough arranging for the furniture to be dealt with. There were firms who specialised in house clearances and, apart from the one or two personal items Isobel had selected, everything else had been despatched to the saleroom.

It was not until Isobel had opened the trap door into the attic that she’d realised the enormity of her task. Unless they were willing to allow strangers to root around in family papers and suchlike, she would have to dispose of these old trunks and boxes herself. Despite the fact that all she’d discovered so far were old clothes and books and photograph albums, she couldn’t find it in her heart to just burn them, unseen. There might be something of value. She owed it to her mother’s memory to take the trouble to look.

All the same, she hadn’t expected it to be so hot up here. And the nausea that had troubled her earlier that morning was beginning to make her sweat all over again. If she didn’t get something to eat soon, she was going to start retching, and that was one consequence of her efforts she didn’t want to face.