Summer Fling: A Bride for Glenmore

As a child SARAH MORGAN dreamed of being a writer and, although she took a few interesting detours on the way, she is now living that dream. With her writing career she has successfully combined business with pleasure and she firmly believes that reading romance is one of the most satisfying and fat-free escapist pleasures available. Her stories are unashamedly optimistic and she is always pleased when she receives letters from readers saying that her books have helped them through hard times.

Sarah lives near London with her husband and two children, who innocently provide an endless supply of authentic dialogue. When she isn’t writing or reading Sarah enjoys music, movies and any activity that takes her outdoors.

Readers can find out more about Sarah and her books from her website: www.sarahmorgan.com. She can also be found on Facebook and Twitter.

Summer Fling

Sarah Morgan

www.millsandboon.co.uk

All the characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author, and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all the incidents are pure invention.

All Rights Reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Enterprises II B.V./S.à.r.l. The text of this publication or any part thereof may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, storage in an information retrieval system, or otherwise, without the written permission of the publisher.

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Mills & Boon, an imprint of Harlequin (UK) Limited, 1 London Bridge, London SE1 9GF

SUMMER FLING © Sarah Morgan 2007

Single Father, Wife Needed

ISBN: 9781408937440

Version: 2018-04-11

CHAPTER ONE

THE ferry docked in the early morning.

It was the start of summer, a fresh June day with plenty of cloud in an angry sky, and Ethan stood by the white rail with the other foot passengers, his eyes on the shore. The cool wind whipped playfully at his dark hair as if to remind him that this was remote Scotland and that meant that even summer weather was unpredictable.

Despite the early hour, the harbour was already busy and people were milling around the dock, buying fish straight from the boats and passing the time of day. From his vantage point high on the boat, Ethan could see a cluster of cottages, a café, a gift shop and an old-fashioned greengrocer with fruit and vegetables artfully arranged to draw the eye and the customer. From the harbour the road rose, snaking upwards and then curving out of sight along the coast.

Even without the benefit of local knowledge he knew where that road led. In fact, he felt as though he knew every contour of Glenmore island, even though he’d never been here before.

As if to remind himself of his reason for being there, he slipped a hand into his pocket and fingered the letter. He’d done the same thing so many times before that the notepaper was crumpled and the writing barely legible in parts, but he didn’t need to read it because he’d long since committed the contents to memory.

The description in the letter had been so detailed, the words so vivid that already the island felt familiar. In his mind he’d felt the cold chill of the wild, inhospitable mountains that clustered in the centre of the island and he’d walked the rocky shores that had sent so many ships to their doom. In his imagination, he’d sailed the deep loch and scrambled on the ruins of the ancient castle, the site of a bloody battle between Celts and Vikings centuries earlier. Glenmore had a turbulent past and a rich history thanks to the fierce determination of the locals to maintain their freedom.

Freedom.

Wasn’t that what everyone wanted? It was certainly one of the reasons he was there. He needed to escape from the throttling grip of his past.

Suddenly Ethan wanted to sprint to the top of the highest point and breathe in the air and then he wanted to plunge into the icy waters of the Atlantic Ocean and swim with the porpoises that were reputed to inhabit this area. It felt good to escape from external pressures and the expectations of others and he had to remind himself that being there wasn’t about escape, it was about discovery.

He’d come for answers.

And he intended to find those answers.