Wicked Caprice

Wicked Caprice
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. His innocent temptress… Isobel Herriot is a far cry from the promiscuous woman Patrick Shannon was expecting. Could shy, modest Isobel really be the adulteress he was lead to believe? But despite her reserved manner, Isobel has the power to stir Patrick’s blood – and arouse him to uncontrollable passion! Is her innocence all just an act? Patrick only knows one thing for sure - Isobel is beginning to torment him…

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.

Wicked Caprice

Anne Mather

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

Table of Contents

Cover (#u792f242a-a6a1-56a2-9a3c-3b8d94a045d0)About the Author (#u86d05c67-0e49-57b8-910e-a27105ae01d5)Title Page (#u6080903f-3496-5386-8253-4ea2381d6016)CHAPTER ONE (#ulink_50ef391e-cb7e-545a-974f-caa08827356a)CHAPTER TWO (#ulink_e88b9b85-6406-5158-a78c-0c25858e3bb0)CHAPTER THREE (#ulink_4158956a-e7d4-54aa-b473-5c820ca729d1)CHAPTER FOUR (#ulink_6887323c-b1ed-5589-80b2-b467874dc9cf)CHAPTER FIVE (#ulink_ab1b5caf-ce21-531d-a83d-a158f8739274)CHAPTER SIX (#litres_trial_promo)CHAPTER SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)CHAPTER EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)CHAPTER NINE (#litres_trial_promo)CHAPTER TEN (#litres_trial_promo)CHAPTER ELEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)CHAPTER TWELVE (#litres_trial_promo)CHAPTER THIRTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)CHAPTER FOURTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)CHAPTER FIFTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)CHAPTER SIXTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)CHAPTER SEVENTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)CHAPTER EIGHTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)CHAPTER NINETEEN (#litres_trial_promo)CHAPTER TWENTY (#litres_trial_promo)Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER ONE (#ulink_58bdc793-9d83-564a-a207-6c3e4f6ccb56)

SHE didn’t look like the kind of woman he had expected.

Julian’s description of her had been fairly explicit, and it was hard to match up her portrayal of a vicious, self-seeking seductress with the slim, pale creature facing him across the counter.

‘Can I help you?’

Her voice was attractive, certainly, low and slightly throaty, and probably inclined to a breathless huskiness when her sexual needs were being met. Was she the kind of woman who just moaned her pleasure, or did she whisper erotic words of approval in Richard’s ear? Either way, it was hard to imagine his brother-in-law being interested in such a colourless female. In the past, his tastes had run in an entirely different direction.

‘Hmm...? Oh, yes.’

Patrick glanced quickly about him, realising that apart from himself the shop was empty. He had spent so long studying her appearance that the other customers had all been dealt with, and her question caught him unawares, his mind empty of the reason why he’d purportedly come into the shop.

‘Shells,’ he said hastily as the excuse he’d adopted to enter the establishment popped back into his mind. He’d seen a necklace of shells in the window and it had seemed a suitable item to select.

‘Shells?’ she echoed pleasantly. ‘You’re a collector of shells? Do you mean shells that have just been polished and are otherwise in their natural state? Or perhaps you like these abstract collages? They’ve proved very popular, actually.’

The square frame she had selected from the display behind the counter made Patrick cringe. The childish daubings of paint on shells, whose haphazard arrangement on a wooden backing looked more abstracted than abstract, appalled him, and he couldn’t imagine anyone finding its composition attractive.

‘Um...it was a necklace, actually,’ he said, casting a doubtful glance over his shoulder. ‘In the window. I thought it might suit my niece.’

Though he could never give it to her, he reflected ruefully. He could picture Jillian’s outrage if he turned up with a necklace bought from that woman’s shop. No matter that Susie might like it. Even considering doing such a thing would constitute a betrayal of the highest order in his sister’s eyes. Besides, there was always the possibility that Richard might recognise it, and Jillian would prefer her husband not to know she’d interfered.

‘Oh, yes. I know the one.’

With a smile, she came out from behind the counter and crossed the sales area to approach the window he’d indicated. As she passed, Patrick was assailed by the delicate aroma of her perfume, an odour that mingled what he thought might be lily of the valley and rosewater with the feminine warmth of her body.

He was also made aware of the fact that she moved with a distinctive grace for such a tall young woman, her hips swaying rhythmically as she strode across the floor, her full skirt swishing softly about her ankles. Her hair was plaited, a thick, glossy, toffee-coloured braid that bobbed about between her shoulderblades. It was almost the exact same colour as her eyes, he mused reluctantly, though her brows were darker, her lashes thick and straight.

She was also wearing boots, he saw as she bent to remove the necklace from the window—thick-soled boots, which Patrick would have considered more suitable for going hiking. Or perhaps mountaineering, he amended drily. Whatever else Richard had seen in her, he couldn’t have been attracted by the way she dressed.

‘Here we are,’ she said, straightening, and Patrick dragged his eyes away from the provocative cleft that had been revealed when she’d bent over. For all his dismissal of her charms, he had to admit there was something about her. Despite the shapeless clothes, she did possess a sensuality that wasn’t immediately apparent.

‘Thanks.’

He took the necklace from her, and was surprised by the jolt of awareness he felt when her slim hand brushed his. Concentrating his attention on the necklace, he couldn’t help wondering if she’d felt it too, though when he permitted himself a quick glance through his lashes she appeared to be as cool and composed as before.

‘It’s the last one,’ she said, and for a moment he couldn’t for the hell of him think what she was talking about.

‘The last...?’

‘Yes, the last necklace,’ she clarified smoothly. ‘I think people have mostly bought them for children. As you can see, the string isn’t very long.’

‘Yes.’

Patrick felt curiously perplexed. He was used to being in control of most situations, but for a moment there he had felt at a distinct disadvantage. It was the unfamiliarity of his surroundings, he told himself, and of this young woman, who seemed to bear little resemblance to the promiscuous hussy his sister had described. She could be everything Jillian had accused her of being—God knew, appearances were often deceptive—but had Richard succumbed to her wiles, or had she succumbed to his?

‘Do you like it?’

Once again, her question aroused a most unsuitable response inside him, and he felt a faintly amused impatience with himself for allowing his instincts to govern his head. For God’s sake, the woman wasn’t even pretty, and in those clothes she wouldn’t attract a second glance. Yet, for some strange reason, he was aware of her, in a way he hadn’t been aware of a woman for years.

If ever..

‘It’s pretty,’ he said now, the word springing obviously to mind, and she nodded in agreement.

‘I think so,’ she agreed. ‘These fan-shaped shells are so delicate. I love that shade of pink. It would be impossible to produce it artificially.’

‘Mmm.’

Patrick was noncommittal, aware that by admiring the necklace he was making it doubly hard to reject it later. After all, he hadn’t come here to admire the merchandise; he was supposed to be finding out what she wanted from Richard. In Jillian’s opinion, she had to have a price. Richard’s women always did.

‘You don’t like it?’

His doubts, albeit of a different nature, had communicated themselves to her, and she tilted her head to look up at him. Immediately, he was aware of the purity of her profile, of the cheekbones that gave her face such a good basic structure, and the mouth, which had parted slightly in enquiry.

He wanted to taste that mouth, he realised in a horrifying revelation. He wanted to crush it, and shape it with his tongue, and suck the full lower lip into his mouth. He wanted to see if she tasted as good as she smelled, and if that delicate pink tongue, presently trapped between two rows of white teeth, was as moist and juicy as it appeared...