Annette Broadrick - Man In The Mist

Fiona knew that if she let Greg walk out of her life without having experienced his lovemaking, she would regret it for the rest of her life. She wanted no regrets. Not where Greg was concerned.

With a calm deliberation, Fiona stood and briskly peeled off her clothes. Greg, startled, sat up and said, “What are you doing?”

Of course he knew what she was doing, she thought, as she sat beside him once more. His gaze seemed to sweep over her in waves, and everywhere his gaze paused, she tingled.

“I’m seducing you,” she said, sounding breathless as she slid her arms around his neck and kissed him.

Dear Reader,

As you ski into the holiday season, be sure to pick up the latest batch of Silhouette Special Edition romances. Featured this month is Annette Broadrick’s latest miniseries, SECRET SISTERS, about family found after years of separation. The first book in this series is Man in the Mist (#1576), which Annette describes as “…definitely a challenge to write.” About her main characters, Annette says, “Greg, the wounded lion hero—you know the type—gave me and the heroine a very hard time. But we refused to be intimidated and, well, you’ll see what happened!”

You’ll adore this month’s READERS’ RING pick, A Little Bit Pregnant (SE#1573), which is an emotional best-friends-turned-lovers tale by reader favorite Susan Mallery. Her Montana Millionaire (SE#1574) by Crystal Green is part of the popular series MONTANA MAVERICKS: THE KINGSLEYS. Here, a beautiful socialite dazzles the socks off a dashing single dad, but gets her own lesson in love. Nikki Benjamin brings us the exciting conclusion of the baby-focused miniseries MANHATTAN MULTIPLES, with Prince of the City (SE#1575). Two willful individuals, who were lovers in the past, have become bitter enemies. Will they find their way back to each other?

Peggy Webb tantalizes our romantic taste buds with The Christmas Feast (SE#1577), in which a young woman returns home for Christmas, but doesn’t bargain on meeting a man who steals her heart. And don’t miss A Mother’s Reflection (SE#1578), Elissa Ambrose’s powerful tale of finding long-lost family…and true love.

These six stories will enrich your hearts and add some spice to your holiday season. Next month, stay tuned for more page-turning and provocative romances from Silhouette Special Edition.

Happy reading!

Gail Chasan

Senior Editor

www.millsandboon.co.uk

This book is dedicated to

Eileen Hutton—

A keen mind and gentle heart…

a winning combination

believes in romance and the magic of life. Since 1984, Annette has shared her view of life and love with readers. In addition to being nominated by Romantic Times as one of the Best New Authors of that year, she has also won the Romantic Times Reviewers’ Choice Award for Best in its Series; the Romantic Times WISH award; and the Romantic Times Lifetime Achievement Awards for Series Romance and Series Romantic Fantasy.

Prologue

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

November 28, 1978

“I know, I know,” Dr. James MacDonald murmured. “The contractions are coming harder and with more pain,” he said to the girl who lay on the table in one of his examining rooms. “You’re doing fine…just fine.”

She’d shown up at his home office earlier that evening, chilled from the cold wind sweeping across the Highlands of Scotland. He had never seen her before but when he realized she was having contractions, he never thought about turning her way, despite the late hour.

His wife, Margaret, stood near the girl’s head and wiped away the perspiration from her face and forehead. “Everything’s going well,” Margaret said to her, but the look on her face told James she was worried.

The girl was running a high fever. He’d done what he could to give her medications that wouldn’t distress the babies he was in the process of delivering. She needed to be in a hospital, but he couldn’t move her until the babies were born.

Triplets, she’d told him.

He looked at her now as she rested between contractions. “What is your name, dear?” he asked.

“Moira,” she replied.

“Ah, Moira. And where is your husband on this blustery night?”

Moira shook her head and began to cry. “He’s dead,” she sobbed. “I saw his brother kill him and I ran. I had to get away before he killed me, as well.” Her voice climbed.

“Well, you needn’t worry about a thing, dear. You’re safe with Meggie and me.” After a moment he asked, “What was your husband’s name?”

“Douglas, but please don’t put his name on the birth certificates. If you do, his brother will find us.”

“Don’t you worry, lass. You’re safe and so are your babes. Rest as much as you can. I believe these babes are eager to enter the world.”

“They’re a little early,” she said. “My doctor told me he would place me in hospital for the last two weeks. Our plans were to go in next week.” She gasped as another strong contraction began.

James MacDonald had practiced medicine in his hometown of Craigmor for more than thirty years and had dealt with a great many crises. Tonight he was facing a particularly difficult one. His young patient, and he doubted she was more than eighteen or so, was fighting a severe lung infection in addition to having her babies.

After several hours of labor, three tiny but healthy girls entered the world. Each had strong vocal cords and wasn’t afraid to use them. Margaret cleaned and weighed each one before wrapping them in warm blankets. Then, she tucked them side by side in a bassinet.

“Mighty fine young ladies you have, Moira,” James said, feeling relief that they were safely delivered. “All of them beauties, just like their mother.”

The new mother attempted a smile before she closed her eyes. Her work was done. Her babies had made it safely into the world.

James moved her into one of their upstairs bedrooms to rest and recuperate while Margaret continued to care for the infants.

Before she fell asleep, Moira caught James’s wrist in a surprisingly fierce grip, considering her weakened condition, and said, “Don’t let him find my babies.” Her eyes were glazed with fever and her voice sounded raspy. “He mustn’t find them. He’ll kill them. Please. Don’t let him find them.”

“You and your babies are safe, Moira. You just rest and get better. You’ll be able to take care of them yourself once you’re better.”

Moira stared at him, her grief and pain mirrored in her eyes. “I loved Douglas so much. I don’t want to go on without him,” she whispered.

“You have three precious daughters to care for, Moira,” he replied in a gentle voice. “They need you.”

“Please find them a good home. Promise me,” she whispered. “Promise me you’ll protect my babies.”

James stared at her in alarm. “You must protect your babies. Give yourself time. You will be able to…” He stopped speaking when he realized she was no longer conscious.

Moira never regained consciousness. It was as though she’d grown tired of struggling for breath and at the end gave up the effort with one final sigh.

Moira with no last name had done what she could to give her babies a chance at life. Now it was up to James and Margaret to decide what to do with her legacy.

October 16, 2003

Greg Dumas peered through the windshield of his rental car with a mixture of frustration and resignation. He could scarcely see past the front of his car. He leaned closer while the windshield wipers valiantly fought a losing battle to remove moisture from the fogged glass. Rain poured down, mixing with the heavy mist that swirled in the headlights.

After several weeks in Scotland, he felt as though he’d stepped into another world made up of perennial rain and perpetual gloom.

Greg knew he should have stayed in Craigmor tonight, rather than attempt to find one small village in the western Highlands after dark. The village hadn’t looked so far away on the map, but he hadn’t taken into account that he was in the mountains.

He was exhausted. It didn’t help that the cough that had started sometime last week had worsened. He’d been on the move since landing in Glasgow last month. He’d rented a car and driven to Edinburgh, thinking he’d be returning to New York in no more than three days. Instead, Edinburgh had been the first stop of many in his search. Since then, he’d followed one lead after another, chasing back and forth across the Highlands like a de-ranged bloodhound.

When he’d received the newest lead late this afternoon, he hadn’t wanted to wait another night to check it out.

Greg knew he sounded like a barking seal every time he coughed. In addition, his head felt stuffed full of cotton and he couldn’t breathe without wheezing.

To make matters worse, it was now close to midnight and he was lost. He thought he’d been following the map he’d marked earlier when he stopped to eat, but somehow he’d managed to find yet another narrow road that appeared to lead to nowhere.

He couldn’t remember the last light he’d seen. Of course, with fog so thick, he could have driven through the hamlet—or the village, or whatever the towns were called—without being aware he’d reached his goal.

Manhattan was nothing like this, he muttered to himself.

He should never have taken this job, he thought—not for the first time—regardless of the money offered. In the three years since he’d opened his office as a private investigator, what had started as a one-man operation had mushroomed into a firm with several investigators—former cops as he was—and a growing support staff that threatened to spill out of their office space within the year.

So why had he finally agreed to take this case? It hadn’t been the money, although the client had offered to double his usual fee and pay all of his expenses if he would personally handle this matter.

He’d turned her down at first. He’d never been away from his daughter, Tina, for more than a night and he hadn’t been comfortable with the idea of traveling to Great Britain. However, Tina’s grandmother, Helen, had urged him to take the case. She’d felt he needed a change of pace from his busy schedule as well as a chance to see more of the world.

When Helen convinced him that leaving Tina with her would be fun for all concerned, he’d finally accepted the assignment. Of course, he’d taken this job thinking he’d quickly find the answers he sought.

Instead he was chasing false trails or trails that dried up, leaving him wondering where to search next, all because he respected Helen’s opinion.

He didn’t know what he would have done if his mother-in-law hadn’t stepped in and helped him to take care of Tina after Jill’s death. She rarely offered her opinion. When she did, he listened.

After three weeks in Scotland, he had no doubts that he’d made the wrong choice. What he had thought would be a simple matter—finding his client’s birth parents—had turned out to be far from simple. His search had turned into a mystery with few answers.