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      MILLS & BOON

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      CONTENTS

      PROLOGUE

      CHAPTER ONE

      CHAPTER TWO

      CHAPTER THREE

      CHAPTER FOUR

      CHAPTER FIVE

      CHAPTER SIX

      CHAPTER SEVEN

      CHAPTER EIGHT

      CHAPTER NINE

      CHAPTER TEN

      PROLOGUE

      MIKE LLEWELLYN pushed the dark curls out of his eyes and looked wildly around him. The mountains where he lived had always seemed his friends and, heaven knew, he stood in need of friends now. His bony shoulders trembled, and his hands clenched into fists of helplessness.

      Sixteen years old was too young an age to face this. The doctor was here now, but Mike knew in his heart that it was too late.

      Over and over, the doctor’s words played in his mind.

      ‘You should have called me sooner, you stupid boy. Don’t you realize your mother’s dying?’

      Yes, he did know, and the accusation was unfair. He’d phoned over and over again, but the doctor’s wife hadn’t helped a bit.

      ‘He’s out. That’s all I know. Don’t ask me where he is. He’s just out.’

      After scores of frantic phone calls, the whole district had started searching, but the locals knew what the doctor would be doing. He’d be somewhere with a woman who wasn’t his wife, and he’d probably be drunk. The valley’s only doctor would have no intention of being found.

      In the end the doctor had arrived back at the surgery full of drunken bluster, saying he’d had his radio on all the time and no one had called him.

      Liar!

      ‘The man’s a liar,’ Mike said to the mountains, and tears of frustration and rage welled behind his eyes. He blinked them back but others came fast to replace them.

      And at that moment he made himself a silent vow. It was a promise he made to nothing but the mountains, but it was a vow he intended to keep for the rest of his life.

      ‘I’ll be a doctor myself,’ he swore. ‘I’ll be the best doctor I can make myself and I’ll come back here and work. And that’s all I’m going to do. No woman’s ever going to interfere with my work. There’s no way anyone else in this place will die like this—not if I can help it. No matter what happens now…’

      And then he turned to face what was happening inside. He turned to face the emptiness of his future.

      CHAPTER ONE

      THERE was a girl in red stilettos lying in Henry Westcott’s barn. Or rather, she was lying under Henry Westcott’s pig.

      Mike had met the police car at the gate. ‘There’s someone mucking around at Henry’s place,’ the sergeant had told him curtly. ‘Jacob saw the light from his place. Want to back us up—give us a bit more manpower?’

      He didn’t. Jacob Jeffries was a rifle-toting bone-head, and the thought of making a posse with him was enough to make Mike queasy. Still, Sergeant Morris was the only policeman in the district and he’d helped Mike out of tight spots in the past. Checking deserted farmhouses for thieves was risky, and Jacob might look tough but, given any real danger, he’d run a mile.

      So he’d come, leaving Strop guarding his precious Aston Martin. But now…

      Mike stopped dead as the police sergeant threw open the barn door and flooded the place with light. They’d been expecting petty thieves, or maybe even Henry himself, but they certainly hadn’t been expecting this.

      The girl was lying flat in the straw, her arm immersed to the elbow in pig. She was young—in her twenties, from the look of her—slightly built and fiery.

      Fiery?

      Yes. Definitely fiery. She was practically all scarlet. The girl was wearing a tiny, tight-fitting, crimson skirt. The slim legs stretched out behind her on the straw were clad in clear stockings with a crimson seam, and her feet were clad in red stilettos. She was wearing a white blouse, but her flaming curls were tumbling about her shoulders and hiding most of it so he could mostly see just legs and redness.

      Mike couldn’t see her face. Her face was pressed into the straw and the rest of her was hidden by pig. What on earth…?

      ‘OK. You’re covered. Stand up slow, then raise your hands over your shoulders.’ Unlike Mike and Sergeant Morris, Jacob knew exactly what to do. He’d seen it on the telly. He’d been expecting criminals and Jacob didn’t change his mind fast. ‘Be careful,’ the sergeant had told him before he’d flung open the door. ‘Whoever’s inside could be armed.’ So Jacob was in threat mode.

      ‘Don’t even think about producing a gun,’ he barked, waving his rifle in the direction of the pig and the wonderful red stilettos. ‘Throw down any weapons.’

      ‘Jacob,’ Mike said faintly. ‘Shut up.’

      He was the first to move. The girl had been using a kerosene lamp to see by, but Sergeant Morris had a heavy searchlight which was now flooding the barn with light. The sergeant stood, shocked into stillness. Jacob waved his gun while he tried to figure things out, and Mike walked forward to see what was happening.

      The girl’s face was turned away from him on the straw. He stepped over her and crouched so he could see more.

      She had a great face. She had gorgeous clear skin, and big green eyes, and a slash of crimson lipstick the exact shade of those ridiculous shoes…

      Her face was contorted in agony.

      The girl had a bucket of soapy water beside her which told its own story. He winced in sympathy. Ouch! He knew what that was for.

      Mike had come out here tonight because Henry Westcott was missing, believed dead. He knew how

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