c7f5-84a1-5904-b5c0-735010bcdfa1">
Mills & Boon is proud to present a fabulous
collection of fantastic novels by bestselling, much loved author
ANNE MATHER
Anne has a stellar record of achievement within the
publishing industry, having written over one hundred and sixty books, with worldwide sales of more than forty-eight MILLION copies in multiple languages.
This amazing collection of classic stories offers a chance
for readers to recapture the pleasure Anne’s powerful, passionate writing has given.
We are sure you will love them all!
I’ve always wanted to write—which is not to say I’ve always wanted to be a professional writer. On the contrary, for years I only wrote for my own pleasure and it wasn’t until my husband suggested sending one of my stories to a publisher that we put several publishers’ names into a hat and pulled one out. The rest, as they say, is history. And now, one hundred and sixty-two books later, I’m literally—excuse the pun—staggered by what’s happened.
I had written all through my infant and junior years and on into my teens, the stories changing from children’s adventures to torrid gypsy passions. My mother used to gather these manuscripts up from time to time, when my bedroom became too untidy, and dispose of them! In those days, I used not to finish any of the stories and Caroline, my first published novel, was the first I’d ever completed. I was newly married then and my daughter was just a baby, and it was quite a job juggling my household chores and scribbling away in exercise books every chance I got. Not very professional, as you can imagine, but that’s the way it was.
These days, I have a bit more time to devote to my work, but that first love of writing has never changed. I can’t imagine not having a current book on the typewriter—yes, it’s my husband who transcribes everything on to the computer. He’s my partner in both life and work and I depend on his good sense more than I care to admit.
We have two grown-up children, a son and a daughter, and two almost grown-up grandchildren, Abi and Ben. My e-mail address is [email protected] and I’d be happy to hear from any of my wonderful readers.
Lord of Zaracus
Anne Mather
Table of Contents
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
SINCE leaving the main highway, seventy-five miles south-west of Veracruz, the road had deteriorated into a series of ruts and pot-holes, thickly covered with fine dust, that was swept up by the passage of the Land-Rover and almost choked its occupants. Carolyn, who had had such high hopes when she left London two days ago, felt as though any minute she might be shaken out on to the roadside, and she held on desperately, trying not to look as uncomfortable as she felt. Hot and sticky, her clothes clinging to her, she felt much different from the smoothly elegant young female who had boarded the Boeing in London, and she wondered, not for the first time, whether she had made a terrible mistake in coming. But then she remembered how delighted her father had been that she should be taking an interest in his archaeological explorations, and banished the traitorous thought. After all, life in England was becoming very boring, and Alaistair Kendrew’s attentions were beginning to annoy her.
She wiped her hands on a paper tissue and the driver of the Land-Rover glanced her way sympathetically.
‘Not far now,’ he remarked, raising her spirits a little.
Carolyn sighed. ‘Thank goodness!’ Then she smiled, and the bluff good-natured Scot, Anderson, felt the usual twinges of admiration that Carolyn’s appearance always aroused in him. He wondered whether her presence at the dig would cause more problems than even Professor Madison imagined.
‘How is my father?’ she asked now, trying to forget the soreness of her rear end.
‘Oh, Maddie’s okay.’ Professor Madison was known to all his closest associates as ‘Maddie’. ‘Naturally he’s looking forward to your visit. I think he’s afraid that you might find things rather different from your imaginings, though.’ Bill Anderson swung the wheel, narrowly avoiding a solitary cyclist as the tyres screamed round the rim of a small crater. He grinned at Carolyn’s expression. ‘Don’t be alarmed. I haven’t killed anybody yet.’
Carolyn fanned herself with her handkerchief and gave her attention to the lushness of the vegetation as the Land-Rover began the descent down a small gorge into a huge valley, bright with flame trees and other exotic plants. Running below them, along the floor of the valley, a narrow river surged coolly, and Carolyn longed to be able to soak her handkerchief in its icy depths. There seemed an abundance of trees and foliage, and the heat was quite different from the kind of temperate climate she had expected.
‘What is the name of this place?’ she asked, brushing back her long straight hair with a careless hand. Thick and silky, and the colour of honey, it caught Anderson’s eye, and he felt the faint stirrings of attraction again.
‘Oh—Zaracus,’ he answered, gathering his thoughts with some difficulty. ‘The valley belongs to Don Carlos Fernandez Monterra d’Alvarez. He has a coffee plantation, but of course a manager attends to the estate. He spends much of his time elsewhere.’
‘I see. And this find my father is excavating—it is in the valley, also?’
‘That’s right. Your father was interested in the reports made by a man called Guivas who spent many months here two years ago, investigating the possible whereabouts of another Zapotec city. As you may know, this country was overrun with various civilizations before the Spaniards came, and different parts bear witness to different civilisations, religions, cultures; you know the sort of thing. We even went so far as to visit Yucatan where the Mayan ruins were found not long ago. It’s quite fantastic really, seeing these pure white pyramids rising out of the stea***ming jungles of Yucatan. It’s all there, cities with temples and pyramids and tombs.’
Carolyn’s eyes twinkled. ‘You’re really hooked on this kind of thing, aren’t you, Bill?’
Anderson grinned. ‘I guess I am. But if you’d been there, in that massive pyramid, and seen the throne of the Mayans, built to look like a jaguar, painted red and studded with jade, and knew for a fact that it was