The Doctor's Proposal. Marion Lennox. Читать онлайн. Newlib. NEWLIB.NET

Автор: Marion Lennox
Издательство: HarperCollins
Серия: Mills & Boon Cherish
Жанр произведения: Контркультура
Год издания: 0
isbn: 9781408945575
Скачать книгу
> cover

      CASTLE AT DOLPHIN BAY

image

      Amidst a struggle for inheritance and a title, love and family triumph—against all odds!

      Twin sisters

      Kirsty McMahon is traveling to Australia with her heavily pregnant, widowed twin, Susie, to help her locate the baby’s great-uncle.

      A castle in…Australia!

      Angus Douglas is no ordinary uncle—he’s a Scottish earl with a faux-medieval castle and millions in the bank. The adventure has only just begun.

      A whole lot of romance…

      Kirsty and Susie are suddenly embroiled in an inheritance battle and a bid to save the castle from destruction, yet amidst all this, the twins each find the one big thing that has been missing from their lives.

      Harlequin Romance® brings you a fresh new story from

      Marion Lennox

      CASTLE AT DOLPHIN BAY

image

      Coming next month in Harlequin Romance® books…

      Read the second and final story in this compelling, heartwarming and intriguing tale of love, riches and aristocracy from this award-winning author in The Heir’s Chosen Bride.

      THE DOCTOR’S PROPOSAL

      Marion Lennox

image image

      MILLS & BOON

       Before you start reading, why not sign up?

      Thank you for downloading this Mills & Boon book. If you want to hear about exclusive discounts, special offers and competitions, sign up to our email newsletter today!

       SIGN ME UP!

      Or simply visit

      signup.millsandboon.co.uk

      Mills & Boon emails are completely free to receive and you can unsubscribe at any time via the link in any email we send you.

      Marion Lennox was born on an Australian dairy farm. She moved on—mostly because the cows weren’t interested in her stories! Marion writes for the Medical Romance and Harlequin Romance® lines. In her non-writing life, Marion cares (haphazardly) for her husband, kids, dogs, cats, chickens and anyone else who lines up at her dinner table. She fights her rampant garden (she’s losing) and her house dust (she’s lost!). She also travels, which she finds seriously addictive. As a teenager, Marion was told she’d never get anywhere reading romance. Now romance is the basis of her stories; her stories allow her to travel, and if ever there was one advertisement for following your dream, she’d be it!

      You can contact Marion at www.marionlennox.com

      CONTENTS

      CHAPTER ONE

      CHAPTER TWO

      CHAPTER THREE

      CHAPTER FOUR

      CHAPTER FIVE

      CHAPTER SIX

      CHAPTER SEVEN

      CHAPTER EIGHT

      CHAPTER NINE

      CHAPTER TEN

      CHAPTER ELEVEN

      CHAPTER ONE

      HOW did you knock on the front door of a medieval castle? And what was such a castle doing in a remote Australian fishing community?

      Dr Kirsty McMahon was worried and tired and it was starting to rain. The castle doors looked as if they’d take a battering ram to open them, and using the incongruous intercom-thing produced nothing. Her tentative knock sounded ridiculous. She knocked harder and gave a hopeful shout but there was no response.

      Enough. She’d been stupid to come. Susie was complaining of cramp. She and her twin would find a hotel in Dolphin Bay and broach the castle walls in the morning. If she could get Susie back here.

      Then she paused as a sudden flurry of barking sounded on the other side of the gates. Was someone coming?

      The vast timber doors opened an inch, and then wider. A lanky brown dog of indiscriminate parentage nosed its way out. A hand gripped its collar. A man’s hand.

      She took a step back. This place seemed straight out of a Gothic novel. The castle was set high on the cliffs above the sea, with purple-hazed mountains ringing the rear. In the mist of early evening, Kirsty was almost expecting to be met by a pack of ancient hunting dogs, anchored to armoured warriors with battle-axes.

      ‘Boris, if you jump up on anyone you’ll be toast.’

      She blinked. The owner of the voice didn’t sound like an axe-toting warrior. The voice sounded…nice?

      The doors swung wider and she decided the adjective nice wasn’t strong enough.

      Her warrior was gorgeous.

      Six feet two. Mid-thirties maybe? Aran sweater, faded jeans and battered boots. Deep brown, crinkly hair, ruffled just the way she liked it in her men.

      Her men? Robert? The thought almost made her smile and she had no difficulty at all turning her attention back to her warrior.

      What else? He had a craggy face, strongly boned and weathered. His eyes smiled at the edges even when he wasn’t smiling. His body was…excellent.

      Oh, for heaven’s sake, she was standing outside a ridiculous Australian castle thinking lustful thoughts about a strange man’s body? All her life she’d fought to stay in control, and now, when everything was teetering, the last thing she needed was the complication of a male. Back home she was dating nice, safe Robert, who’d stay being nice and safe for as long as she wanted. She was in control. She was married to medicine.

      But her warrior was definitely gorgeous.

      ‘Um…hello,’ she tried.

      The stranger was hauling his dog back, giving her a chance to catch her breath. Behind the man and dog she could see the castle forecourt. This, then, was why there’d been no response. She’d knocked on what was essentially the fortress gates.

      And behind the gates… The castle was a lacy confection of gleaming white stone, turrets and battlements. Kirsty was practically gaping. It was so ridiculously seventeenth-century-meets-now that it was fantastic. It was also set so far back from the gates that, if the intercom wasn’t working, it must have been sheer luck that anyone had heard her call.

      She needed to stop gaping.

      ‘What can I do for you?’ the man asked, and she attempted to sound coherent. Sort of.

      ‘My sister and I have come to see Ang—the earl.’

      ‘I’m sorry, but His Lordship isn’t receiving visitors.’ It was a brisk denial, made in a hurry as he pushed the gates closed again.

      She stuck her foot forward.

      Mistake. These gates weren’t built so that a five-feet-four doctor of not very impressive stature could block them with one toe.

      She