At The Sicilian Count's Command. Кэрол Мортимер

      TORONTO • NEW YORK • LONDON

       AMSTERDAM • PARIS • SYDNEY • HAMBURG

       STOCKHOLM • ATHENS • TOKYO • MILAN • MADRID

       PRAGUE • WARSAW • BUDAPEST • AUCKLAND

      All about the author…

       Carole Mortimer

      CAROLE MORTIMER is one of Harlequin’s most popular and prolific authors. Since her first novel was published in 1979, this British writer has shown no signs of slowing her pace. In fact, she has published more than 125 books to date!

      Carole was born in a village in England that she claims was so small “if you blinked as you drove through it you could miss seeing it completely!” She adds that her parents still live in the house where she was born, and her two brothers live very close by.

      Carole’s early ambition to become a nurse came to an abrupt end after only one year of training, due to a weakness in her back, suffered after a fall. Instead, she went on to work in the computer department of a well-known stationery company.

      During her time there, Carole made her first attempt at writing a novel for Harlequin. “The manuscript was far too short and the plotline not up to standard, so I naturally received a rejection slip,” she says. “Not taking rejection well, I went off in a sulk for two years before deciding to have another go.” Her second manuscript was accepted, beginning a long and fruitful career. She says she has “enjoyed every moment of it!”

      Carole lives “in a most beautiful part of Britain” with her husband and children.

      “I really do enjoy my writing, and have every intention of continuing to do so for another twenty years!”

      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

      ‘I’M AFRAID I had an ulterior motive for inviting you here this weekend, Wolf—Ah, I believe I hear Angel now,’ Stephen Foxwood, Wolf’s friend and overnight host, murmured happily, as the sound of a door closing could be heard inside the manor house behind them. The two men were seated outside on the terrace on this warm summer’s evening, enjoying a glass of wine before dinner. ‘Later,’ Stephen promised as he got to his feet. ‘Come and meet my—come and meet Angelica Harper,’ he corrected as he stood up to enter the sitting room via French windows.

      Wolf followed, intrigued. The two men had been friends for several years, and he had believed this Saturday night stay at Stephen’s country estate was to discuss the successful conclusion of a joint business deal they had agreed earlier in the week. Stephen certainly hadn’t given any indication before now that there was something else he needed to talk about. Or that his current mistress—Angel?—would also be present!

      Stephen, as Wolf well knew, had been married to Grace for over thirty years until her death a year ago—not a particularly happy marriage, but not an unhappy one, either. Having a wife certainly hadn’t curtailed Stephen’s other liaisons; it had just meant that he’d kept those relationships discreetly in the background.

      Now that Grace was dead, obviously Stephen didn’t feel he had to keep his mistresses a secret any more!

      Although Wolf wasn’t quite prepared for the appearance of Stephen’s latest love. Lowering guarded lids over piercingly dark eyes, he watched the older man cross the room to warmly kiss the cheek of the woman who had entered the sitting room. Years of practice at shielding his thoughts in the boardroom, as well as in the bedroom, allowed Wolf to maintain a bland expression even as he felt shockwaves rock through him while he looked at the woman with whom the usually cynical Stephen was obviously deeply infatuated.

      Aged, at most, in her mid-twenties, Angelica Harper had to be at least thirty years younger than Stephen—and she was also the most beautiful woman Wolf had ever set eyes on!

      Having been one of the most eligible bachelors in Europe for at least half of his thirty-six years, Wolf had seen—and known intimately—many beautiful women.

      But Angelica Harper—five feet eight inches tall, with waist-length black hair, misty grey eyes surrounded by long thick lashes set in a delicately beautiful heart-shaped face, and with the slenderness of her body shown to advantage in her clinging black off-the-shoulder gown—exuded a sensuality that Wolf was totally aware of.

      ‘Come and say hello to Angel, Wolf,’ Stephen encouraged, his arm resting possessively