Lilian Peake - Carmichael's Return

Cover Page

Excerpt “ Love? “ Brett cut in mercilessly. “You, a modern woman, want love with the sexual act?” He released Lauren so suddenly that the room spun. This was a side to him she had never seen, never guessed at. “I—I hate you like this. What happened while you were away that you’ve lost your human warmth? I wouldn’t make love with you if—if—” “If I paid you?” Brett added insultingly. “The man who arrived on the doorstep that night wouldn’t have said that. You’ve changed from the man I knew, the man I liked.” “Oh, no, Lauren. You never knew me.”

About the Author LILIAN PEAKE grew up in Essex. Her first job was working for a writer of mystery stories. Subsequently, she became a journalist on a provincial newspaper, then moved to a trade magazine and reported on fashion. Later, she took on an advice column on a women’s magazine. She began writing romances because she loves happy endings! She lives near Oxford, England, with her husband, a retired college principal. They have two sons and a daughter. Her hobbies are walking, reading and listening to classical music.

Title Page Carmichael’s Return Lilian Peake 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

Chapter Twelve

Copyright

Brett cut in mercilessly. “You, a modern woman, want love with the sexual act?”

He released Lauren so suddenly that the room spun. This was a side to him she had never seen, never guessed at.

“I—I hate you like this. What happened while you were away that you’ve lost your human warmth? I wouldn’t make love with you if—if—”

“If I paid you?” Brett added insultingly.

“The man who arrived on the doorstep that night wouldn’t have said that. You’ve changed from the man I knew, the man I liked.”

“Oh, no, Lauren. You never knew me.”

LILIAN PEAKEgrew up in Essex. Her first job was working for a writer of mystery stories. Subsequently, she became a journalist on a provincial newspaper, then moved to a trade magazine and reported on fashion. Later, she took on an advice column on a women’s magazine. She began writing romances because she loves happy endings! She lives near Oxford, England, with her husband, a retired college principal. They have two sons and a daughter. Her hobbies are walking, reading and listening to classical music.

www.millsandboon.co.uk

LAUREN made herself more comfortable in the chair next to the telephone. Her friend Marie’s calls were always long—especially this one as they hadn’t met since Marie had moved house.

‘Please,’ Marie coaxed into Lauren’s ear, ‘think about it. For Reggie’s sake as well as mine. If you loved your boyfriend as much as I love Reggie…OK,’ she added hurriedly, ‘so yours ditched you—’

‘Other way round,’ Lauren supplied without rancour.

‘Oops, sorry. You ditched Mitch. I’d ditch Reggie too if he played around with other girls. Anyway, I can’t let Reggie go and work in France without me just because I took on the job my uncle offered me before Reggie knew about being transferred to the Continent. He’s starting his job next week,’ she added on a note of anguish.

‘But Marie, you haven’t been there long. How can you move out so soon after agreeing to live there? Anyway, I’ve never house-sat, or whatever you call it.’

‘Lauren—’ Marie’s voice came pleadingly ‘—Uncle Redmund doesn’t want the place left empty, that’s all. He doesn’t want to sell it, he wants someone occupying it. By the way, he’s not my real uncle. He’s a very old friend of my parents. I’ve called him Uncle since I was a kid. Oh, and I did mention, didn’t I, that he’s currently living in the South of France? And as for moving away from here so quickly—well, it’s how things happen, isn’t it?’

‘Maybe, but—’

‘There’s a salary attached to it—a substantial one. You’ll agree to house-sit, then?’ Marie pleaded.

‘I didn’t say so.’

‘But you’ll need to look for another place to live; you told me so,’ Marie countered. ‘Your landlord’s decided to sell the house and—’

‘OK, that’s true, but I’ll still need to think about what you’ve suggested. I’m on an art agency’s books for work—’

‘So withdraw your name,’ Mane urged. ‘A job’s being offered you right now. Look,’ she went on, as her friend still seemed to be hesitating, ‘I’m giving a party Saturday evening at Uncle Redmund’s house to celebrate Reggie’s promotion—because that’s what it is. Come to it, Lauren.’

‘Well, I—’

‘You could come Friday and stay overnight,’ Marie suggested. ‘That way you could really get the feel of the place. I’ll show you round and you can give me your answer then. Oh—and this is not blackmail or anything—but there’s a job vacancy for me over there in Reggie’s office. Won’t that be just great? That is, if I’m able to join him.’

‘If that’s not blackmail then my name’s not Lauren Halstead,’ Lauren protested, making a face at her friend’s laughter.

‘Maybe kind of, then,’ Marie conceded. ‘See you Friday, yes? And don’t worry about help in bringing your things here. Reggie can hire a van to bring any heavy furniture over.’

‘There’s only lightweight stuff,’ Lauren answered. Then she realised she was already m the process of committing herself. ‘But, Marie,’ she added hastily, ‘I haven’t said yes, have I?’

‘Do you think I’d let a little thing like that stand in my way?’ was her friend’s laughing riposte.

Marie called for Lauren m the small car her ‘uncle’ Redmund had provided for her while she looked after his property.

‘This car will be yours to use while you’re staying here,’ Marie declared, silencing any protest Lauren might have made about not yet having come to a decision by swinging across the road and pulling up in the drive.

The outside of the house had an unmistakable charm. It was stone-built, with bay windows below and sash windows to the bedrooms on the upper floor. It had more length than height, and something in it reached out to the artist in Lauren.

‘It’s been added to over the centuries,’ Marie explained as she joined Lauren on the gravelled driveway. ‘It’s nearly three hundred years old. Come on in.’

The living area was so large it almost took Lauren’s breath away. Oak beams had been left in place, inset into the ceiling, while the stone fireplace, which had been cleverly restored, occupied a large area of wall, with alcoves left for ornaments and even books.

‘Three rooms were knocked into one,’ Marie explained, arms swinging wide. ‘And this is the kitchen—’ she led the way ‘—all mod cons. Everything a girl could ever want. Yes?’ She looked coaxingly into Lauren’s face.

Lauren could only nod, but quickly qualified the action with a noncommittal, ‘Maybe.’

‘And upstairs,’ Marie went on, and the staircase creaked as they went up, ‘there are so many bedrooms you could almost sleep in a different one every night. All with en suite facilities, as they say in hotel brochures. How’s that for modernity? And here—’ she flung a door wide ‘—you could paint and draw to your heart’s content. It used to be Uncle Redmund’s study. Yes?’ she repeated, smiling winningly.