Betrayed

Betrayed
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.‘I don’t know what sort of game you’re playing, but, I’m warning you, don’t play with fire!’Once Olivia and Matt had been passionate lovers – but ten years their relationship ended. Now, Olivia is back – and the potent attraction flares between them as if they had never been apart. As long-buried emotions resurface, can Matt let go of the past and let Olivia back into his heart again?

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.

Betrayed

Anne Mather

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

Table of Contents

Cover (#ua9ee8775-3b08-5eef-9bf9-09c59bf7d885)

About the Author (#uc91beddb-12f0-5adf-83b4-204f78cfbde7)

Title Page (#u3c271da2-a746-5637-8d58-dd5490b61dbd)

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

Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER ONE (#u604fcc91-46c1-5499-ab8a-9f03372b77d2)

THE aircraft banked over the Thames, and the sun, which had been dazzling Olivia’s eyes moments before, swung across the cabin to blind the passengers sitting on the other side. Below her, the sprawling mass of London and its suburbs was giving way to the more sparsely populated area around the airport, and she heard the grinding rush of the undercarriage being activated as the huge jet made its final approach to Heathrow.

Her stomach flipped, but not because of the excitement of landing. At least, not with any feeling of anticipation, she acknowledged tensely. Rather, it was the awareness that in a matter of minutes she would be setting foot on British soil again, something she had believed she would never do.

Of course, when she had made that vow to herself she had been more than ten years younger, she reflected drily, remembering the devastation she had felt when she was leaving. Her whole world had been falling apart—or that was the way it had seemed then. She had been desperate to get away, desperate to put as many miles between her and Lower Mychett as was humanly possible. She doubted even her grandmother had expected quite such a violent reaction, but then, Harriet Stoner was not one to regret her words. And, to be fair, she had discovered that at least a part of what her grandmother had told her was true; time did effect change; and what had once seemed a justifiable reason for cutting herself off from the rest of her family no longer seemed so important.

Or did it?

Impatiently, Olivia ran her fingers into the crimped mass of streaked blonde hair that brushed her shoulders at the sides and dipped slightly longer in the back. Wasn’t that part of the reason why she had come back, after all? she pondered, resting her hands at the back of her neck. Oh, her grandmother’s death should be reason enough, she supposed, but it had been ten years since she had seen her, and they had never been particularly close. On the contrary, the old lady had never made any secret of the fact that she favoured Olivia’s younger brother and sister, and her eventual revelations had only confirmed the reason for her dislike.

Still, when her mother’s telegraphed message had arrived, Olivia had hardly hesitated before booking her flight to England. In spite of all that had gone before, she had decided to attend the funeral, and not even Perry’s unconcealed disapproval could sway her from her purpose. Perhaps this was what she had been waiting for, she thought consideringly. Perhaps she needed this visit—this purging of the spirit, almost—before she could truly settle down to living the rest of her life in the United States. Goodness knew, she had been vacillating over her relationship with Perry for months now, and sooner or later she was going to have to make a decision. She loved him—of course she did—but she had told herself she wasn’t entirely convinced that she wanted to give up her independence just yet. Now, however, she wondered whether she hadn’t unconsciously been waiting for something—or someone—to make up her mind for her. This trip to England, to the village of Lower Mychett in Hampshire, where she had been born, would prove to her once and for all that the past was dead. Like her grandmother, she reflected bitterly. She just wished she could feel a sense of pity.

But it was difficult to feel anything for the woman who had so dispassionately devastated her young life. At eighteen she had been on the brink of what she had believed would be a wonderful future, and to have it all taken away had been the cruellest kind of torture. It had all sounded so melodramatic, after all. One of those awful family affairs you read about in the newspapers, but never expected to experience. At first she hadn’t believed it. She knew her grandmother had always resented her, and Olivia had half convinced herself that the old lady was just making it up to hurt her. But she wasn’t. The letters had proved that. And when Olivia had realised that she and Matthew were——

She supposed she ought to have blamed her mother, not her grandmother, but she hadn’t. How could she have blamed her mother for anything? Ever since Olivia’s younger sister, Sara, was born, Felicity Stoner had suffered from a heart condition and, in consequence, she was indulged by every member of the family, including her besotted husband. The idea of Olivia accusing her mother of ruining her life didn’t bear thinking about. Besides, it would have meant telling her father, too, and her grandmother had impressed upon her the fact that Robert Stoner knew nothing.

Olivia sighed, tipping her head back against her hands and stretching the slender column of her throat. The action unknowingly caused her breasts to press against the silky fabric of her shirt, and the man sitting next to her observed the movement with undisguised approval.

‘Nervous?’ he enquired hopefully, and Olivia, who had spent the early part of the journey fending off his unwanted attentions, shook her head.