English Lord On Her Doorstep
A storm. A stranger. A secret.After a storm leaves handsome stranger Bryn Morgan stranded at Charlie’s farmhouse she plans to keep her distance! But the night forges a bond between —until Bryn reveals is in fact Lord Carlisle! Can he show Charlie that their differences can bring them closer?
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A storm, a stranger, a secret
The start of something special?
After a storm leaves handsome stranger Bryn Morgan stranded at Charlieâs Outback farmhouse she plans to keep her distance! But as the weather intensifies Charlie seeks comfort in Brynâs reassuring arms. The night forges a bond between them that looks unbreakable, until day brings the revelation that Bryn is in fact Lord Carlisle! Can Bryn show Charlie that their differences can bring them closer?
MARION LENNOX has written more than one hundred romances, and is published in over a hundred countries and thirty languages. Her multiple awards include the prestigious RITA® Award (twice), and the RT Book Reviews Career Achievement Award for âa body of work which makes us laugh and teaches us about loveâ. Marion adores her family, her kayak, her dogâand lying on the beach with a book someone else has written. Heaven!
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Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk.
ISBN: 978-1-474-07806-1
ENGLISH LORD ON HER DOORSTEP
© 2018 Marion Lennox
Published in Great Britain 2018
by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF
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To Olga and Olga.
With thanks for your friendship and your kindness, and for your generosity in finding my books so far away.
Contents
BRYN THOMAS MORGAN, Twelfth Baron Carlisle, Peer of the Realm, thought his week couldnât get worse. It could.
It said a lot for his state of mindâweary, horrified and disgustedâthat while he searched in the rain and the dark to find the dog heâd just hit, his head was already rescheduling.
If the dog was dead, heâd take it to the local police station, explain how heâd hit it on a blind curve and let the locals look after their own.
His plane back to London was leaving in three hours and he had a two-hour drive in front of him. He had time to scrape a dead dog from the road and catch his flight.
But when he finally found the soggy heap of fur that had been thrown into the undergrowth, the dog was alive.
Despite being hit by an Italian supercar?
Twenty years ago, when he was a boy learning to drive the estateâs four-by-four across the vast estates of Ballystone Hall, his father had told him never to swerve for an animal. âYouâll lose control,â heâd told him. âAnimals can usually judge distance and speed. If you swerve, theyâre more likely to be hit, not less, and thereâs a possibility youâll kill yourself, too.â
But this hadnât been a farm-vehicle-savvy calf, darting back to the herd, or a startled but nimble deer. This dog was a trudger: a dirty white, mid-sized mutt. It had been square in the centre of the country road, head down, looking almost as if a car coming around the bend would be doing it a favour by hitting it.
So of course Bryn had swerved, but the road was rain-washed and narrow. There hadnât been time or space to avoid it. Now it lay on the grass at the roadside, its hind leg bloody, its brown eyes a pool of pain and misery.
