The Wayward Son. Yvonne Lindsay
“Don’t you ever wonder?”
“Wonder what?” she asked, her voice that husky whisper that did crazy things to him.
“What it will be like when we kiss again.”
“Who said we’ll kiss again?”
“Oh, we will. Don’t you want to know if what happened the first time will happen again? Whether we could be that good, again?”
She blinked and drew in a breath, the word no beginning to form on her lips. The sound never made it out as he closed the short distance between them, caressing her lips with his.
The sensation that shuddered through his body was intense. Even more potent than the last time. He stepped closer, aligning his body with hers. She met his assault with a parry of her own, clinging to him.
His need to possess her overwhelmed everything else—every need, every thought, other than one. He wanted Anna Garrick like he’d never wanted anything in his life before.
Dear Reader,
Once again a historical home has inspired a story idea—well, in this case, multiple story ideas.
I had the great good fortune to be invited to speak at the South Australian Romance Authors one-day workshop in May of 2010, and in the days afterward I was shown some of the stunning countryside through the Adelaide Hills and beyond. During the workshop day, one of the attendees, a marriage celebrant, was telling us about one of the most interesting weddings she’d conducted in the ruins of a gothic mansion high on the hills. I didn’t have time to actually visit the ruins at Marble Hill, but I did spend a lot of time on their website fascinated by the building, its destruction and the current plans to rebuild it to its former glory. A spark of an idea formed.
With my mind ticking away, I had the additional brain power of my good friend Trish Morey to storm up some ideas, and by the time I arrived home those ideas began to morph into this new miniseries, starting with The Wayward Son and continuing with A Forbidden Affair.
In many ways creating the backstory of these books was just as fascinating as creating the books themselves, and I look forward to bringing you more of THE MASTER VINTNERS in coming years.
Happy reading!
Yvonne Lindsay
About the Author
New Zealand born, to Dutch immigrant parents, YVONNE LINDSAY became an avid romance reader at the age of thirteen. Now, married to her “blind date” and with two fabulous children, she remains a firm believer in the power of romance. Yvonne feels privileged to be able to bring to her readers the stories of her heart. In her spare time, when not writing, she can be found with her nose firmly in a book, reliving the power of love in all walks of life. She can be contacted via her website, www.yvonnelindsay.com.
The Wayward Son
Yvonne Lindsay
MILLS & BOON
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To E.M.
—In the immortal words of Casper, “Can I keep you?”
One
She hadn’t seen anything quite this beautiful in forever. The exquisitely colored autumnal landscape aside, the figure of the man chopping wood in the distance, shirt off, muscles rippling in the still-warm Adelaide Hills sunshine, was quite enough to remind Anna of every hormonal response her body was capable of. And then some.
Never averse to indulging in appreciation of the male form—even if her busy work-filled schedule meant she rarely did anything about it—she walked a little closer. A tingle of awareness skimmed across her skin, raising goose bumps on the surface, which had nothing to do with the hint of evening breeze that rolled through the hills. It was only when she was about twenty meters from him that recognition hit her with all the subtlety of a bucket of ice water.
Judd Wilson.
Her entire reason for being in Australia.
Although they’d never met, there was no mistaking Charles Wilson’s son. Obviously tall, Judd had dark hair and warmly tanned skin stretched over a physique that was the epitome of every woman’s fantasy. His sharply sculpted features hinted at a resemblance to his father. She’d hazard a guess his eyes were the same piercing blue, as well.
Anna was surprised when her inner muscles clenched on a purely instinctive female reaction and her heart stuttered a little in her chest. She hadn’t responded this strongly to anyone in a while, and she sure as hell never expected to feel so drawn to the son of the man who was not only her employer, but practically a father to her. She drew in a deep breath and forced back the flood of attraction that threatened to swamp her anew—reminding herself that she was here on business. She’d made a promise to Charles—a promise she fully intended to keep.
His instructions had been painfully clear. Somehow she had to persuade Judd Wilson to come home to New Zealand, before the father he hadn’t seen in more than two decades died.
Anna took a few more tentative steps through the pathway designated amongst the rows and rows of grapevines that striated the land. Her eyes were fixed on the male figure working ahead of her—the man completely oblivious to the bombshell she was about to drop on his world. She paused for a moment, sudden nerves weakening her resolve.
Judd had been only six years old when his parents’ divorce resulted in his and his mother’s leaving New Zealand—not to mention leaving Charles, and Judd’s baby sister, Nicole—behind for good. Did he even remember his father? Would he be pleased at the chance to reconcile, or would he be bitter over all the lost years?
Anxiety over Judd’s potential reaction was swiftly followed by a swirl of familiar anger and defensiveness on Charles’s behalf. If it hadn’t been for Cynthia Masters-Wilson’s deceptions, Charles would never have been separated from his son in the first place. Anna hadn’t yet met the woman who had torn apart Charles’s very reasons for existence, and she certainly wasn’t looking forward to it. No doubt it would prove to be a necessary evil at some stage, but for now her focus was on meeting Charles’s son and on gauging what his response to his father’s contact would be. Her intense physical reaction to him now promised to make that a little more complicated than Anna had anticipated.
She was here with a job to do, she reminded herself sternly, even as her eyes flicked back toward Judd’s sun-kissed torso one more time. She couldn’t afford to let herself get distracted. Perhaps right now was not the best time to meet him and try to broach the topic. This was a matter that would require good timing and not a small amount of finesse if she was to be successful, and she owed it to Charles to be successful. Lord only knew he’d done more than enough for her family over the years. The least she could do in return was bring some peace of mind to the man who had supported Anna and her late mother for