The Shrouded Web

The Shrouded Web
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. Her make-believe husband…Justina had been practically forced into an unhappy marriage by her domineering aunt and, for complicated reasons, had decided not to tell her of her husband’s death three years later. But now, her aunt was demanding to see her – with husband in tow!It was only when Justina heard about Dominic Hallam, who was in hospital suffering from amnesia after a plane crash, that the germ of an idea came to her. If she pretended he was her husband, her aunt’s mind would be put at rest. But how far would Dominic co-operate?

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.

The Shrouded Web

Anne Mather

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

Table of Contents

Cover (#uc7a14ece-3494-544e-9ce9-1bfe8665c0d5)

About the Author (#u512bbdab-adc7-54a2-b6e8-1849efb6e206)

Title Page (#uda04e47a-ae48-576f-af29-13ad121d4117)

PART ONE

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

PART TWO

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)

PART ONE (#u5e3d27b6-add8-523d-a3c2-be20deef44fa)

CHAPTER ONE (#u5e3d27b6-add8-523d-a3c2-be20deef44fa)

THE velvet dusk of evening was spreading its cloak over the island, stilling the chattering minah birds and dimming the brilliance of the exotic frangipani and flame trees. A welcome, cooling breeze sprang up as the sun sank below the tangled web of the jungle behind the villa, pushing probing fingers against Rebecca’s hot forehead as she emerged from her patient’s room and closed the door thankfully. The humidity throughout the long day had been exhausting and not even the air-conditioning could cope entirely with the damp heat. Rebecca ran a weary hand through the thick silky fairness of the curls on her brow and longed for the luxury of the shower she would soon be taking. Adele had been particularly trying today, but she was asleep now and for a few hours her time was her own.

As she passed along the terrazzo tiling of the hall she glanced automatically towards the wide windows which in daylight gave a magnificent view of the lush green grass which was all that separated the villa from the palm-fringed reaches of the beach. Beyond the stretch of silvery coral sand surged the brilliant waters of the Pacific and Rebecca never tired of marvelling at the natural beauty of her surroundings. It was worth the humidity, the persistent hum of insects, the sometimes nauseating aroma of drying copra, and even Adele’s often cruel contentiousness.

Now she made her way to her room and stripping off her uniform and underclothing she went into the adjoining bathroom. The chill of the water took her breath away as she twisted and turned beneath the shower and she gasped pleasurably. She was vigorously towelling herself dry when the doorbell chimed.

At once she stopped what she was doing and frowned. What an annoying thing to have happened! It was the servants’ night off and she was alone in the villa, apart from the sleeping Adele, of course, and she would not remain sleeping long if whoever it was who was calling persisted in ringing the bell. She sighed exasperatedly. Perhaps they would see no lights and go away. She hoped so. She couldn’t imagine who it might be. Adele had few friends and it was not a night that the doctor usually called.

The bell rang again, and Rebecca pressed her lips together in annoyance. She would have to answer the door. There was nothing else for it. Thrusting the towel aside, she reached for her housecoat, a silky garment in rather an attractive shade of apricot. Her hair was a tangled mass of curls, and she had no time to comb it now. Smoothing it with a careless hand, she left the bathroom and walked impatiently along the corridor to the front door. In daylight a mesh screen was all that covered the entrance, but tonight the doors were closed and secured and she was loath to open them to admit… who?

She slid back the bolt, turned the key and opened the door a few inches. In the faint light emanating from the hall she could see a tall man waiting outside and for a moment her heart flipped a beat.

‘Yes?’ she murmured tentatively, but to her surprise the man stepped forward, gently but firmly propelling the door back so that he could step into the hall. ‘Just a moment—–’ began Rebecca indignantly, and the man inclined his head with frowning speculation.

‘Your pardon, mademoiselle,’ he exclaimed, his accent unmistakably French. ‘For the moment I mistook you for Adele’s maidservant. My apologies for startling you.’

Rebecca was trying to control the hot flush that was running up her body and engulfing her at the realisation that she was wearing only the clinging apricot gown and this man was standing, regarding her indolently with dark eyes which were nevertheless intense. He was one of the most attractive men Rebecca had ever seen, but this knowledge only added to her confusion.

‘Miss—Miss St. Cloud has retired for the night,’ she informed him uncomfortably. ‘I—I am her nurse.’

The man glanced round the wide hall with inscrutable eyes and then returned his gaze to Rebecca. ‘Ah, so. I should have realised perhaps, but my plane was delayed…’ He lifted his shoulders in a careless gesture. ‘No matter, I will not disturb her now. Will you tell her in the morning that I called?’

Rebecca swallowed hard. ‘Who—who shall I say has called, monsieur?’