Marion Lennox
The Heir’s Chosen Bride
A book in the Castle at Dolphin Bay series, 2006
Dear Reader,
I love ancient castles, handsome lords in kilts of ancient tartan and bagpipes on the battlements. My Scottish friends, however, tell me a feisty heroine is more likely to be hidden by fog or eaten by midges than she is to find the man of her dreams on yon Scottish parapet.
My Australian climate does have some advantages. Fine, I thought. I’m a fiction writer. I’ll transfer my Scottish castle to my favorite place in the world-Australia’s New South Wales coast. With a wave of my magic wand, I’ve therefore brought the romance of medieval Scotland to the turquoise waters of today’s Dolphin Bay. Add a family feud, a fortune to be won, a double set of twins and a couple of very sexy heroes… It’s far too much for one book so I’ve spread the fun over two.
My CASTLE AT DOLPHIN BAY duo, starting with
Happy reading,
Marion Lennox
CHAPTER ONE
‘MR DOUGLAS, you’re an earl.’
Hamish groaned. He was hours behind schedule. The Harrington Trust Committee was arriving in thirty minutes and his perky secretary-in-training was driving him nuts.
‘Just sort the mail.’
‘But this letter says you’re an earl. You gotta read it.’
‘Like I read e-mails from Nigeria offering to share millions. All I need to do is send my bank account details. Jodie, you know better.’
‘Of course I do,’ she told him indignantly. Honestly, he was being a twit.
But she forgave him. Who wouldn’t? Hamish Douglas was the cutest boss she’d ever worked for. Jodie had been delighted when Marjorie had retired and she’d been given the chance to take her place. At thirty-three, Hamish was tall, dark and drop-dead gorgeous. He had ruffled black curls, which fought back when he tried to control them. He had deep brown twinkly eyes and the most fantastic smile…
When he smiled. Which wasn’t often. Hamish might be one of the most brilliant young futures brokers in Manhattan, but he didn’t seem to enjoy life.
Maybe he’d smile when he realised he really was an earl.
‘This one’s different,’ she told him. ‘Honest, Mr Douglas, you need to look. If you’re who these people think you are then you’ve inherited a significant estate. A significant estate in lawyer speak…I bet that means a fortune.’
‘I’ve inherited nothing. It’s a scam.’
‘What’s a scam? Is Jodie bothering you with nuisance mail?’
Uh-oh. Jodie had been rising, but as soon as the door opened she sat straight back down. Marcia Vinel was Hamish’s fiancee. Trouble. Jodie had overheard Marcia on at least two occasions advising Hamish to get rid of her.
‘She’s a temp from the typing pool. Surely you can do better.’
‘But I like her,’ Hamish had replied, much to Jodie’s delight. ‘She’s smart, intuitive and organised-and she makes me laugh.’
‘Your secretary’s not here to make you laugh,’ Marcia had retorted.
No, Jodie thought, shoving the offending letter into the tray marked PENDING. Life’s too serious to laugh. Life’s about making money.
‘What’s the letter?’ Marcia said, with a sideways glance at Jodie to say she didn’t appreciate Jodie knowing anything about Hamish that she herself didn’t. ‘Is it a scam?’
Jodie knew when to turn into a good secretary. She tugged on her headset, paid attention to her keyboard and didn’t answer. ‘What’s the letter?’ Marcia said again, this time directly to Hamish.
‘It’s some sort of con,’ Hamish said wearily. ‘And Jodie’s not bothering me any more than anyone else is. Hell, Marcia, I have work to do.’
‘I came to tell you the Harrington delegation’s been delayed,’ Marcia told him. ‘Their flight’s two hours late from London. Relax.’
He did, but not much. That meant rescheduling and…
‘I’ll rearrange your appointments.’ Jodie emerged from her headset and he cast her a look of gratitude. ‘Only I do think you should read the letter.’ She mightn’t like Marcia, she decided, but at least Marcia would make Hamish look at it.
He went back to frowning. ‘Jodie, get real. Letters saying I’m an earl and I’ve inherited a fortune are the stuff of a kid’s fantasy.’
‘But it doesn’t say send bank account details. It says contact a solicitor. That sounds fusty rather than scammy. Real.’
‘Let me see,’ Marcia decreed, and put out an imperious hand. Marcia was a corporate lawyer working for the same company as Hamish. She was the brains, he was the money, some people said-but Hamish had earned his money with his wits, and there was a fair bit of cross-over.
The two were a team. Jodie handed it over.
There was silence while Marcia read. The letter was on the official notepaper of an Australian legal firm. It looked real, Jodie thought defiantly. She wasn’t wasting her boss’s time.
And Marcia didn’t think so either. She finished reading and set the letter down with an odd look on her face.
‘Hamish, do you have an uncle called Angus Douglas? In Australia?’
‘No.’ He frowned. ‘Or…I don’t think so.’
‘Surely you know your uncles,’ Jodie said, and got a frown from Marcia for her pains. She subsided but she didn’t replace her headset.
‘My father migrated from Scotland when he was little more than a kid,’ Hamish told Marcia. ‘There was some sort of family row-I don’t know what. He never told my mother anything about his family and he died when I was three.’
‘You never enquired?’ Marcia demanded, astounded, as if such disinterest was inexcusable.
‘About what?’
‘About his background. Whether he was wealthy?’
‘He certainly wasn’t wealthy. He migrated just after the war when every man and his dog was on the move from Europe. He married my mother and they had nothing.’ He hesitated. ‘All I know…’
