Mills & Boon is proud to present a fabulous collection of fantastic novels by bestselling, much loved author
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.comand I’d be happy to hear from any of my wonderful readers.
Cage of Shadows
Anne Mather
www.millsandboon.co.uk
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Cover
About the Author Mills & Boon is proud to present a fabulous collection of fantastic novels by bestselling, much loved author
Title Page Cage of Shadows Anne Mather www.millsandboon.co.uk
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Copyright
‘DO it,’ said Evan urgently. ‘What have you got to lose? And more importantly, think what you’ve got to gain.’
‘Yes.’
Joanna pushed her large-framed spectacles up her nose and cupped her chin with one hand. A tall girl, with a curtain of silky dark brown hair that fell about her shoulders, she looked rather pensive at present, the long green eyes, which she privately considered her best feature, opaque now behind their shield of tinted glass.
‘How else are you ever going to afford to go to art college?’ Evan persisted. ‘You told me yourself that Marcia was unlikely to help you.’
‘I know.’
Joanna sighed. It certainly was a temptation. With the kind of money Evan Price was offering, she might even be able to afford her own flat, and to be independent of her stepmother would be worth so much more. Judging by the rumblings recently, Marcia expected her to get out and find herself a job, and just because her father had expected her to go to art school there was no reason to think his widow would sponsor her. On the contrary, Marcia had made it clear, right from the beginning, when Joanna’s father died so suddenly without leaving any provision for his daughter, that she did not consider herself bound to support her.
‘Consider it a holiday,’ Evan was saying persuasively. ‘A month in Florida, in the middle of an English winter! What could be better? Have you any idea how much people pay to enjoy the kind of break I’m offering you for free?’
‘I’m sure it’s a marvellous opportunity,’ Joanna conceded doubtfully, and the florid-faced man sitting across from her raised his eyes to the ceiling.
‘Joanna, believe me, if it was anyone else but you, I wouldn’t be offering this kind of money. But—well, your father was a friend of mine, and I feel I owe something to his memory—–’
‘And the fact that I happened to have a passing acquaintance with Matthew Wilder has nothing to do with it?’ put in Joanna, with unexpected cynicism. ‘Evan, I know what you’re offering, and I know why. I just don’t know if I want to do it, that’s all.’
‘Why not?’
‘Because—because he obviously wants to avoid the media. Why else would he choose to go and live out in Florida? His work has always been in Europe and Africa.’
‘Who knows why he’s gone out there? Maybe he’s discovered some new drug and he’s trying it out. That’s what I want you to find out. Joanna, Matthew Wilder is still big news. And he’s been out of the public eye for almost three years! Now we know where he is, at least let’s give it a try.’
Joanna pursed her lips. ‘Marcia had no right to give you Daddy’s diaries. They were personal.’
‘They’re also worth a lot of bread,’ declared Evan flatly. ‘And Marcia was never one to shy at the main chance. Besides,’ he tried to reassure her, ‘your father was one of this century’s foremost writers. It was a tragedy he was killed like that, but his diaries belong to his readers. Your father himself would agree with me.’
Joanna bent her head. ‘The private addresses should have been torn out. My father wouldn’t approve of you betraying his confidence.’
‘What the hell!’ exploded Evan noisily. ‘Drew’s been dead all of five months, Joanna. What he would or would not have done isn’t relevant. For three years, Wilder’s lived the life of a recluse. No one knew where he was. Now we have his address—rightly or wrongly. Would you rather I sent a news team out there? Spread the word around Fleet Street, and have every two-bit reporter with a telephoto lens crawling over the island?’
‘No.’ Joanna was sure about that. ‘But what makes you think Uncle Matt will see me? I was eight years old when I last saw him. Eleven years ago! I doubt he’ll even remember me.’
‘You’re Andrew Holland’s daughter. He’ll remember you.’
Joanna shook her head. ‘I don’t know.’
‘Well, make up your mind. I need a decision. I’ve no intention of sitting on this for too long.’
Joanna hesitated. ‘But why is it so urgent? You said yourself, it’s five months since—since my father was killed.’
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