An Enigmatic Man

An Enigmatic Man
Carole Mortimer

From the moment Crystal had arrived at Sam Barton's remote mansion, she'd got the message: Sam had no room in his life for emotional involvement. But it wasn't as if she wanted to marry him, for goodness' sake just somewhere to stay for a couple of nights!Crys steeled herself to endure enforced proximity with this arrogant, infuriating man. Only, she was taken aback to discover that beneath Sam's tough, brooding exterior there existed a passionate sensuality…

“I don’t feel pity for you, Crystal. And don’t even attempt to tell me what I can and can’t do!”

She blinked dazedly. “But I wasn’t—”

“Yes, you were. You—oh, to hell with it!” he exclaimed before he lowered his head and his mouth took fierce possession of hers.

Crys was so stunned by the unexpectedness of his actions that for a few brief moments she stood unmoved in the tight band of his arms, the slenderness of her body crushed against the hardness of his as he very thoroughly kissed her.

So thoroughly, in fact, that she felt a long-forgotten stirring of desire. Heat, like molten lava, moved slowly into her body, and it felt as if the ice in her heart was melting.

As, indeed, it probably was, she realized with a choked cry. All warmth, all desire, had died with James. But this man, an admitted enigma, couldn’t be the one to heal her battered emotions!

Anything can happen behind closed doors!

Do you dare find out…?

Welcome again to DO NOT DISTURB!

Meet Sam and Crys, a couple thrown together by circumstances into a whirlwind of unexpected attraction. Forced into each other’s company whether they like it or not, they’re soon in the grip of passion—and definitely don’t want to be disturbed!

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author Carole Mortimer explores this delicious fantasy in a tantalizing romance you simply won’t want to put down.

Will Crys become Sam’s mistress, or will she resist their all-consuming passion?

Turn the pages and find out!

An Enigmatic Man

Carole Mortimer

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

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER ONE

DRACULA’S castle!

No…on second thoughts, Crys decided, that was perhaps being a little unkind to Dracula!

She had been driving for hours, had stopped the car at the top of the driveway in the hopes of somehow getting her bearings in the rapidly deepening fog. But all such thoughts had fled as she saw the name of the house grooved into one of the stone pillars that flanked the broken-down gateway. Her startled gaze moved to the monstrosity of a house just visible at the end of the driveway. Victorian Gothic architecture—and every era since, if the numerous extensions were anything to go by.

The whole thing jarred on Crys’s heightened sense of line and design.

This couldn’t possibly be her destination—couldn’t be the Yorkshire home of the elder brother of her good friend Molly. Molly was slightly eccentric, yes—a little unorthodox, too—but that was no reason to suppose it ran in the family!

Crys frowned up at the pillar closest to her. Despite the covering of moss, the name ‘Falcon House’ was still readable. She picked up the letter she had received from Molly several days ago, quickly scanning its contents until she came to the directions for finding Sam Barton’s home. The name ‘Falcon House’ clearly stood out from Molly’s otherwise hurried scrawl.

But this place wasn’t really a house at all. It was a castle, with high turrets and towers, and even what looked like a defunct moat encircling the outer walls.

Perhaps Sam’s home was at the back of this monstrosity? Hadn’t Molly mentioned at some time that her brother was caretaking the place for an absent friend?

Having now seen Falcon House, Crys wasn’t at all surprised the owner was absent most of the time—it would give anyone nightmares to actually have to live in this dilapidated old pile.

Yes, she decided, that had to be the answer. If she drove down the driveway and over the rickety-looking drawbridge, there was sure to be a smaller—more comfortable!—house situated somewhere at the back.

Except, as Crys discovered a few minutes later, having driven slowly down the rutted and holed road and into the forecourt to a castle encircled by a moat—albeit an empty, smelly old moat full of indescribable rubbish—there was virtually nothing behind the building. Just a small piece of land that probably should have been a garden but was so overgrown with bushes and trees it resembled a jungle!

Crys parked her car, climbing out onto moss-covered gravel and stretching her tired limbs even as she gazed up and up at the tumbledown castle before her, taking in the pipes that hung loose on the walls, the several tiles that had slid off the roof to lie shattered on the ground below.

Even through the damp fog Crys could see that most of the lower windows were either boarded up completely or had curtains drawn against prying eyes. The windows on the upper floors, although virtually all intact, seemed to look blankly out on the rest of the world.

Not exactly welcoming, and the whole place had such a neglected air that Crys was sure no one could actually be living in it. It—

She had heard something!

It was an undistinguishable, muted sound, but nevertheless she had heard a noise of some sort. It seemed to be coming from the side of the house.