A Little Corner Of Paradise. Catherine Spencer

says it plainly enough,’ Madeleine replied, admiring Nick’s clean-cut profile in the sudden burst of light as the flames flared up around the meat. His face was a study in contrasts—a collage of aristocratic planes and angles drawn in gold against a dark background. He looked invincible, a warrior about to go to war, and she was reminded again of her first indelible impression of power and command.

      ‘You’re quite sure of that, are you?’

      ‘Hmm?’

      ‘The way you spoke just now,’ he explained, with a hint of impatience in his voice that took her aback somewhat. ‘As though you have it on very good authority that the reason he’s neglected the place is that he’s lost interest in it’

      ‘Oh…’ She really had to put an end to her absorption with Nick Hamilton’s looks. Not only was it embarrassing to discover she’d completely lost the thread of a conversation, it was also foolishly immature. It wasn’t a man’s appearance, it was what he was like on the inside that mattered—a lesson she thought she’d learned a long time ago. ‘Well, what other explanation could there be when you consider that old man Tyler didn’t even bother to pay the taxes on the place until he stood in danger of having it seized by the local council and auctioned off to cover the debt?’

      Nick paused in the act of uncorking the dinner wine. ‘Old man Tyler?’

      ‘The owner.’

      ‘You know him?’

      ‘Not exactly. He lives in the States and is something of a recluse now, but I used to see him occasionally, years ago.’

      ‘Clearly he didn’t leave behind a very favorable impression if you think he simply turned his back on this place and left it to rot without a second thought’

      ‘Normally I don’t think about him at all,’ she replied, ‘but his lodge is of major concern to me. He might not care what happens to it but I intend to see it restored and protected, if I have to move heaven and earth to do it.’

      ‘Is that a fact?’ Nick stared into the fire, the oddest expression on his face.

      She tilted her head to one side, puzzled. Moments earlier he had accused her of being preoccupied. Now, hands slack around the neck of the wine-bottle, he was the one absorbed in his own thoughts.

      ‘Have I said something to upset you, Nick? You seem…’ She searched for the exact description, discarding the word that immediately came to mind because it simply didn’t make sense that he should be angry. Yet there was a stillness about him and a tension that suggested that he was coiled to strike at something. ‘Disturbed,’ she finished lamely.

      The cork came out of the bottle of Cabernet with an unseemly pop. ‘Sorry,’ he said. ‘It’s this damn thumb of mine. Ever since I cut it, I seem to be smashing it or squashing it against everything I touch. I’m not used to being so clumsy. Tell me more about this man—what was his name?’

      ‘Tyler. Edmund Tyler.’

      ‘Was he one of those romantic sophisticates you admired so much?’

      ‘He was very handsome, as I recall. Tall, silver-haired, very distinguished-looking. And his wife was a lovely woman.’ Madeleine looked at Nick curiously. ‘Are you really as interested in all this as you seem, or are you just being polite?’

      He laughed. His teeth were very white, very straight. ‘I’m never polite just for the sake of it,’ he assured her. ‘I’ve spent a fair bit of time this last week wandering about the place and it’s interesting hearing someone else’s impressions of its history, that’s all. Finish your champagne, Madeleine. The steaks are just about ready and I don’t know about you, but I’m starving.’

      The meat was fork-tender, the potatoes delicious, the mushrooms delectable. ‘This is a feast,’ she said.

      ‘But a bit primitive.’ Nick grimaced as his plate almost overturned in his lap. ‘Maybe I should have suggested a restaurant after all.’

      Madeleine looked around. Within the circle of light cast by the fire the sand glowed butternut-gold. Beyond, it was swathed in taupe shadows. Overhead, the stars winked, icily remote, unlike the rising moon which peeped saucily over the edge of the dunes. ‘I can’t think of any place I’d rather be at this moment than right here.’

      His smile caressed her. ‘Not even if the resort were open for business and you’d been invited there by a foreign count?’ he teased.