Marion Lennox - His Cinderella Heiress

Which was crazy. She didn’t need anyone. She’d made that vow as a ten-year-old, in the fourth or fifth of her endless succession of foster homes. She’d yelled it as her foster mother had tried to explain why she had to move on yet again.

‘It’s okay!’ she’d yelled. ‘I don’t need you. I don’t need anyone.’

Her foster mother had cried, but Jo hadn’t. She’d learned never to let herself close enough to cry.

But now she was close, whether she’d willed it or not. Her rescuer was holding her in a grip so strong she couldn’t break it even if she tried. He must be feeling her shaking, she thought, and part of her was despising herself for weakness but most of her was just letting him hold.

He was big and warm and solid, and he wasn’t letting her go. Her face was hard against his chest. She could feel the beating of his heart.

His hand was stroking her head, as he’d stroke an injured animal.

‘Hey, there. You’re safe.’

And before she could even suspect what he intended he’d straightened, reached down and lifted her into his arms.

www.millsandboon.co.uk

MARION LENNOXhas written more than one hundred romances and is published in over a hundred countries and thirty languages. Her multiple awards include the prestigious US RITA ®Award (twice), and the RT Book Reviews Career Achievement Award for ‘a body of work which makes us laugh and teaches us about love’. Marion adores her family, her kayak, her dog and lying on the beach with a book someone else has written. Heaven!

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To Mitzi. My shadow.

Contents

COVER

INTRODUCTION He held and she had to let him hold. She needed him. Which was crazy. She didn’t need anyone. She’d made that vow as a ten-year-old, in the fourth or fifth of her endless succession of foster homes. She’d yelled it as her foster mother had tried to explain why she had to move on yet again. ‘It’s okay!’ she’d yelled. ‘I don’t need you. I don’t need anyone.’ Her foster mother had cried, but Jo hadn’t. She’d learned never to let herself close enough to cry. But now she was close, whether she’d willed it or not. Her rescuer was holding her in a grip so strong she couldn’t break it even if she tried. He must be feeling her shaking, she thought, and part of her was despising herself for weakness but most of her was just letting him hold. He was big and warm and solid, and he wasn’t letting her go. Her face was hard against his chest. She could feel the beating of his heart. His hand was stroking her head, as he’d stroke an injured animal. ‘Hey, there. You’re safe.’ And before she could even suspect what he intended he’d straightened, reached down and lifted her into his arms.

TITLE PAGE His Cinderella Heiress Marion Lennox www.millsandboon.co.uk

ABOUT THE AUTHOR MARION LENNOX has written more than one hundred romances and is published in over a hundred countries and thirty languages. Her multiple awards include the prestigious US RITA ® Award (twice), and the RT Book Reviews Career Achievement Award for ‘a body of work which makes us laugh and teaches us about love’. Marion adores her family, her kayak, her dog and lying on the beach with a book someone else has written. Heaven!

DEDICATION To Mitzi. My shadow.

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

EXTRACT

COPYRIGHT

CHAPTER ONE Contents COVER INTRODUCTION He held and she had to let him hold. She needed him. Which was crazy. She didn’t need anyone. She’d made that vow as a ten-year-old, in the fourth or fifth of her endless succession of foster homes. She’d yelled it as her foster mother had tried to explain why she had to move on yet again. ‘It’s okay!’ she’d yelled. ‘I don’t need you. I don’t need anyone.’ Her foster mother had cried, but Jo hadn’t. She’d learned never to let herself close enough to cry. But now she was close, whether she’d willed it or not. Her rescuer was holding her in a grip so strong she couldn’t break it even if she tried. He must be feeling her shaking, she thought, and part of her was despising herself for weakness but most of her was just letting him hold. He was big and warm and solid, and he wasn’t letting her go. Her face was hard against his chest. She could feel the beating of his heart. His hand was stroking her head, as he’d stroke an injured animal. ‘Hey, there. You’re safe.’ And before she could even suspect what he intended he’d straightened, reached down and lifted her into his arms. TITLE PAGE His Cinderella Heiress Marion Lennox www.millsandboon.co.uk ABOUT THE AUTHOR MARION LENNOX has written more than one hundred romances and is published in over a hundred countries and thirty languages. Her multiple awards include the prestigious US RITA ® Award (twice), and the RT Book Reviews Career Achievement Award for ‘a body of work which makes us laugh and teaches us about love’. Marion adores her family, her kayak, her dog and lying on the beach with a book someone else has written. Heaven! DEDICATION To Mitzi. My shadow. CHAPTER ONE CHAPTER TWO CHAPTER THREE CHAPTER FOUR CHAPTER FIVE CHAPTER SIX CHAPTER SEVEN CHAPTER EIGHT CHAPTER NINE CHAPTER TEN EXTRACT COPYRIGHT

A WOMAN WAS stuck in his bog.

Actually, Finn Conaill wasn’t sure if this land was part of the estate, but even if this wasn’t the property of the new Lord of Glenconaill he could hardly ignore a woman stuck in mud to her thighs.

He pulled off the road, making sure the ground he steered onto was solid.

A motorbike was parked nearby and he assumed it belonged to the woman who was stuck. To the unwary, the bike was on ground that looked like a solid grass verge. She’d been lucky. The wheels had only sunk a couple of inches.

She’d not been so lucky herself. She was a hundred yards from the road, and she looked stuck fast.

‘Stay still,’ he called.

‘Struggling makes me sink deeper.’ Her voice sounded wobbly and tired.

‘Then don’t struggle.’

Of all the idiot tourists... She could have been here all night, he thought, as he picked his way carefully across to her. This road was a little used shortcut across one of County Galway’s vast bogs. The land was a sweep of sodden grasses, dotted with steel-coloured washes of ice-cold water. In the distance he could see the faint outline of Castle Glenconaill, its vast stone walls seemingly merging into the mountains behind it. There’d been a few tough sheep on the road from the village, but here there was nothing.

There was therefore no one but Finn to help.

‘Can you come faster?’ she called and he could hear panic.

‘Only if you want us both stuck. You’re in no danger. I’m coming as fast as I can.’

Though he wouldn’t mind coming faster. He’d told the housekeeper at the castle he’d arrive mid-afternoon and he was late already.