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Man In The Mist
Annette Broadrick
MR. DESTINYHe appeared from the mist–formidable, feverish…and searching for her. Within moments he was in her bed, leaving Fiona MacDonald to wonder why an American man had traveled so far and to such personal expense to find a woman who hadn't wanted to be found.She'd nursed Greg Dumas to health, only to learn that the former cop's investigation of a client's birthright had led him to her father's dusty medical files. Fiona knew nothing of clandestine deliveries, but she did know that she wanted to love the sorrow from this wounded warrior's eyes for as long as they had. For something told her that as quickly as he'd arrived in her life, Greg just might be gone….
“I don’t ever want to hurt you,” he said. “Or take advantage of you in any way.”
Fiona knew that if she let Greg walk out of her life without having experienced his lovemaking, she would regret it for the rest of her life. She wanted no regrets. Not where Greg was concerned.
With a calm deliberation, Fiona stood and briskly peeled off her clothes. Greg, startled, sat up and said, “What are you doing?”
Of course he knew what she was doing, she thought, as she sat beside him once more. His gaze seemed to sweep over her in waves, and everywhere his gaze paused, she tingled.
“I’m seducing you,” she said, sounding breathless as she slid her arms around his neck and kissed him.
Dear Reader,
As you ski into the holiday season, be sure to pick up the latest batch of Silhouette Special Edition romances. Featured this month is Annette Broadrick’s latest miniseries, SECRET SISTERS, about family found after years of separation. The first book in this series is Man in the Mist (#1576), which Annette describes as “…definitely a challenge to write.” About her main characters, Annette says, “Greg, the wounded lion hero—you know the type—gave me and the heroine a very hard time. But we refused to be intimidated and, well, you’ll see what happened!”
You’ll adore this month’s READERS’ RING pick, A Little Bit Pregnant (SE#1573), which is an emotional best-friends-turned-lovers tale by reader favorite Susan Mallery. Her Montana Millionaire (SE#1574) by Crystal Green is part of the popular series MONTANA MAVERICKS: THE KINGSLEYS. Here, a beautiful socialite dazzles the socks off a dashing single dad, but gets her own lesson in love. Nikki Benjamin brings us the exciting conclusion of the baby-focused miniseries MANHATTAN MULTIPLES, with Prince of the City (SE#1575). Two willful individuals, who were lovers in the past, have become bitter enemies. Will they find their way back to each other?
Peggy Webb tantalizes our romantic taste buds with The Christmas Feast (SE#1577), in which a young woman returns home for Christmas, but doesn’t bargain on meeting a man who steals her heart. And don’t miss A Mother’s Reflection (SE#1578), Elissa Ambrose’s powerful tale of finding long-lost family…and true love.
These six stories will enrich your hearts and add some spice to your holiday season. Next month, stay tuned for more page-turning and provocative romances from Silhouette Special Edition.
Happy reading!
Gail Chasan
Senior Editor
Man in the Mist
Annette Broadrick
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
This book is dedicated to
Eileen Hutton—
A keen mind and gentle heart…
a winning combination
ANNETTE BROADRICK
believes in romance and the magic of life. Since 1984, Annette has shared her view of life and love with readers. In addition to being nominated by Romantic Times as one of the Best New Authors of that year, she has also won the Romantic Times Reviewers’ Choice Award for Best in its Series; the Romantic Times WISH award; and the Romantic Times Lifetime Achievement Awards for Series Romance and Series Romantic Fantasy.
Contents
Prologue
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
Prologue
November 28, 1978
“I know, I know,” Dr. James MacDonald murmured. “The contractions are coming harder and with more pain,” he said to the girl who lay on the table in one of his examining rooms. “You’re doing fine…just fine.”
She’d shown up at his home office earlier that evening, chilled from the cold wind sweeping across the Highlands of Scotland. He had never seen her before but when he realized she was having contractions, he never thought about turning her way, despite the late hour.
His wife, Margaret, stood near the girl’s head and wiped away the perspiration from her face and forehead. “Everything’s going well,” Margaret said to her, but the look on her face told James she was worried.
The girl was running a high fever. He’d done what he could to give her medications that wouldn’t distress the babies he was in the process of delivering. She needed to be in a hospital, but he couldn’t move her until the babies were born.
Triplets, she’d told him.
He looked at her now as she rested between contractions. “What is your name, dear?” he asked.
“Moira,” she replied.
“Ah, Moira. And where is your husband on this blustery night?”
Moira shook her head and began to cry. “He’s dead,” she sobbed. “I saw his brother kill him and I ran. I had to get away before he killed me, as well.” Her voice climbed.
“Well, you needn’t worry about a thing, dear. You’re safe with Meggie and me.” After a moment he asked, “What was your husband’s name?”
“Douglas, but please don’t put his name on the birth certificates. If you do, his brother will find us.”
“Don’t you worry, lass. You’re safe and so are your babes. Rest as much as you can. I believe these babes are eager to enter the world.”
“They’re a little early,” she said. “My doctor told me he would place me in hospital for the last two weeks. Our plans were to go in next week.” She gasped as another strong contraction began.
James MacDonald had practiced medicine in his hometown of Craigmor for more than thirty years and had dealt with a great many crises. Tonight he was facing a particularly difficult one. His young patient, and he doubted she was more than eighteen or so, was fighting a severe lung infection in addition to having her babies.
After several hours of labor, three tiny but healthy girls entered the world. Each had strong vocal cords and wasn’t afraid to use them. Margaret cleaned and weighed each one before wrapping them in warm blankets. Then, she tucked them side by side in a bassinet.
“Mighty fine young ladies you have, Moira,” James said, feeling relief that they were safely delivered. “All of them beauties, just like their mother.”
The new mother attempted a smile before she closed her eyes. Her work was done. Her babies had made it safely into the world.
James moved her into one of their upstairs bedrooms to rest and recuperate while Margaret continued to care for the infants.
Before she fell asleep, Moira caught James’s wrist in a surprisingly fierce grip, considering her weakened condition, and said, “Don’t let him find my babies.” Her eyes were glazed with fever and her voice sounded raspy. “He mustn’t find them. He’ll kill them. Please. Don’t let him find them.”
“You and your babies are safe, Moira. You just rest and get better. You’ll be able to take care of them yourself once you’re better.”
Moira stared at him, her grief and pain mirrored in her eyes. “I loved Douglas so much. I don’t want to go on without him,” she whispered.
“You have three precious daughters to care for, Moira,” he replied in a gentle voice. “They need you.”
“Please find them a good home. Promise me,” she whispered. “Promise me you’ll protect my babies.”
James stared at her in alarm. “You must protect your babies. Give yourself time. You will be able to…” He stopped speaking when he realized she was no longer conscious.
Moira never regained consciousness. It was as though she’d grown tired of struggling for breath and at the end gave up the effort with one final sigh.
Moira with no last name had done what she could to give her babies a chance at life. Now it was up to James and Margaret to decide what to do with her legacy.
Chapter One
October 16, 2003
Greg Dumas peered through the windshield of his rental car with a mixture of frustration and resignation. He could scarcely see past the front of his car. He leaned closer while the windshield wipers valiantly fought a losing battle to remove moisture from the fogged glass. Rain poured down, mixing with the heavy mist that swirled in the headlights.
After several weeks in Scotland, he felt as though he’d stepped into another world made up of perennial rain and perpetual gloom.
Greg knew he should have stayed in Craigmor tonight, rather than attempt to find one small village in the western Highlands after dark. The village hadn’t looked so far away on the map, but he hadn’t taken into account that he was in the mountains.
He was exhausted. It didn’t help that the cough that had started sometime last week had worsened. He’d been on the move since landing in Glasgow last month. He’d rented a car and driven to Edinburgh, thinking he’d be returning to New York in no more than three days. Instead, Edinburgh had been the first stop of many in his search. Since then, he’d followed one lead after another, chasing back and forth across the Highlands like a de-ranged bloodhound.
When he’d received the newest lead late this afternoon, he hadn’t wanted to wait another night to check it out.
Greg knew he sounded like a barking seal every time he coughed. In addition, his head felt stuffed full of cotton and he couldn’t breathe without wheezing.
To make matters worse, it was now close to midnight and he was lost. He thought he’d been following the map he’d marked earlier when he stopped to eat, but somehow he’d managed to find yet another narrow road that appeared to lead to nowhere.
He couldn’t remember the last light he’d seen. Of course, with fog so thick, he could have driven through the hamlet—or the village, or whatever the towns were called—without being aware he’d reached his goal.
Manhattan was nothing like this, he muttered to himself.
He should never have taken this job, he thought—not for the first time—regardless of the money offered. In the three years since he’d opened his office as a private investigator, what had started as a one-man operation had mushroomed into a firm with several investigators—former cops as he was—and a growing support staff that threatened to spill out of their office space within the year.
So why had he finally agreed to take this case? It hadn’t been the money, although the client had offered to double his usual fee and pay all of his expenses if he would personally handle this matter.
He’d turned her down at first. He’d never been away from his daughter, Tina, for more than a night and he hadn’t been comfortable with the idea of traveling to Great Britain. However, Tina’s grandmother, Helen, had urged him to take the case. She’d felt he needed a change of pace from his busy schedule as well as a chance to see more of the world.
When Helen convinced him that leaving Tina with her would be fun for all concerned, he’d finally accepted the assignment. Of course, he’d taken this job thinking he’d quickly find the answers he sought.
Instead he was chasing false trails or trails that dried up, leaving him wondering where to search next, all because he respected Helen’s opinion.
He didn’t know what he would have done if his mother-in-law hadn’t stepped in and helped him to take care of Tina after Jill’s death. She rarely offered her opinion. When she did, he listened.
After three weeks in Scotland, he had no doubts that he’d made the wrong choice. What he had thought would be a simple matter—finding his client’s birth parents—had turned out to be far from simple. His search had turned into a mystery with few answers.
If this latest lead didn’t pan out, he would give up and return to New York. He’d exhausted all other avenues.
Right now, all he wanted to do was to hop on a plane and head for the States, sleeping the entire trip across the Atlantic. Unfortunately, that wasn’t going to happen. Instead, he appeared destined to wander the western Highlands of Scotland for the foreseeable future.
Greg knew he’d been on the road too long and had driven too many hours. He had to find a place where he could rest, and soon. Better yet, he needed to find a place to spend the night. Between the cold air and the dampness that had seeped inside him clear to his bones, he seemed to have acquired a permanent tremor throughout his body.
His assignment had turned into a wild-goose chase. Unfortunately for him, he didn’t have the protective coating of a wild goose. The cold, damp climate had him reeling.
He’d headed west to find some middle-aged woman who had retreated to the isolated area of northwest Scotland. She’d been nowhere near the village where he had hoped to find the information he needed.
From his interviews with several of the old-time residents of Craigmor, this particular woman was his best hope to discover the answers he needed.
When he first arrived in Scotland he’d expected to contact the attorney who had handled his client’s adoption and/or the physician attending her birth to get the name of her biological parents.
The first snag he’d run into involved making contact with the lawyer, Calvin McCloskey. Greg had gone to the address listed in the legal documents. There were still lawyers at the location—they called themselves solicitors—and the name of the firm was the same, but as the associate he’d spoken to pointed out, the adoption papers had been signed twenty-five years ago. The solicitors who’d been practicing law back then had all retired or died.
Greg had had a moment of concern that Mr. McCloskey was one of the guys who’d died, but the associate assured him that good ol’ Calvin was still alive and kicking. In fact, the associate had given Greg Calvin’s home address and wished him well.
Fat lot of good that had done him. He’d talked to the man’s housekeeper, who explained that Mr. McCloskey was off fishing. Since he hadn’t bothered telling her where he would be, Greg had no way of contacting him until he decided to return home.
Greg had had the choice of waiting for the man or searching for the doctor. But he could find no record of a Dr. MacDonald currently practicing in Edinburgh.
He’d had to wait for the solicitor.
Greg had passed the time while waiting for Mr. McCloskey by visiting several Edinburgh sights. He’d been impressed to see how well maintained the castles were and had enjoyed catching up on the history of the area.
By the end of the first week he’d adjusted to the Scottish brogue that he heard everywhere he went. In addition, he’d managed to stop going to the left side of the rental car to drive, since the steering wheel could only be found on the right side.
Late the following week Mr. McCloskey left word at Greg’s hotel that he could meet with him the following day.
