Capture. Flora Dain

push aside the drape so I can see clearly.

      Barely feet away, moonlight silvers the hard black outline of a huge bike, its rider covered from head to foot in black leather. When he turns his head he’s wearing goggles, his face unrecognisable. He looks like some giant, evil insect. And he’s grinning.

      My stomach lurches and now I get a nauseous waft of exhaust fumes.

      All at once light spills out from other parts of the house. I can hear shouts. The house is awake. But as footsteps start to ring out on the driveway the bike roars off.

      I take a deep breath and lower the drape. ‘That was a shock. Do you often get stray tourists this close to the house at night?’ As I turn back to the bed my shaky smile dies on my face. I’m talking to an empty room.

      Darnley’s in the en-suite, throwing up.

      I can hear the engine noise fading into the distance. But in here the damage is done. The room is still acrid with exhaust fumes. And for some reason Darnley’s being sick.

      ‘You OK?’ I peer at him in alarm.

      He’s leaning against the door frame. He’s shaking.

      ‘What the heck was all that noise? It sounded like …’

      He sways. And all at once I understand. He’s thinking of Kraik, the tormentor from his childhood, cuffing him to a steering wheel and revving up the engine …

      ‘It’s OK,’ I murmur gently. I take his arm and am shocked to find him cold. ‘Come back to bed.’

      When he’s stretched out beside me I twitch the quilt over him and dart into the en-suite to fetch him some water. By the time I’m back he’s asleep again but he feels like ice. I get in beside him, careful not to disturb him more than I must, and wind my arms and legs around him. As I settle my head on his chest he murmurs sleepily into my hair. ‘Something wake us up? That noise …’

      I tighten my grip. ‘It was nothing. Bad dream.’

      His soft, regular breathing tells me he’s already drifting off. Maybe tomorrow he won’t even remember.

      But I lie awake for a long time, my arms clamped round him, my mind racing. Two scary incidents in one day? Is that normal out here? And as I finally drift into sleep another, even scarier thought hovers at the edges of my brain like an evil fairy.

      Kraik again? I thought we’d moved on from that too.

      * * *

      ‘Hey. Eat up your cereal like a good girl. I can’t wait to show you your present.’ Darnley’s already put away a plateful of ham and eggs and several slices of toast in double-quick time. I’m still toying with a bowl of sweetened cereal and sipping gulps of glorious, freshly squeezed orange juice from some local farm.

      To my delight he seems to have forgotten about last night.

      I make a note to ask the staff if bikers often stray from the highway or if that was just a one-off.

      I learn my present is nearby and he waits impatiently while I haul a thin sweater over my tight jeans. It’s far warmer here than back home. We’re twenty degrees or so higher than my home state of Maine, currently in the throes of a massive blizzard. But it is still January. They have winter, even here. The sunshine has a spring-like crispness to it that warns me the wind’s chillier than it looks.

      ‘Have you guessed what it is yet?’ His grin is infectious as he grips my hand to haul me down the slope to the beach, and now I’m genuinely mystified.

      I laugh, excited now, thrilled he’s so carefree. ‘Obviously not,’ I say gaily. ‘How should I know? Jewelled handcuffs on a rock? A surfboard?’ I make a solemn vow to be enchanted with it whatever it is, after last night’s scary flash from the past. ‘Give me a hint. It’s made of metal? It catches fish? Will I regret this?’

      But as we pass a rocky outcrop part-way down the hill I stop dead. Pulled up on the shingle, and tied with a giant scarlet bow, is a boat.

      Not just any boat. It’s smallish, stylish, racy and gleaming white. At one end there’s a small two-stroke motor. And part of the hull has a glass panel. I can use it to see underwater.

      ‘You like?’ He almost laughs as he drags me the last few feet towards it. As I reach it I touch a reverent finger to its elegant prow. It feels silky smooth and gleams in the sunshine. Inside there’s a narrow bench seat all around. Damp shingle and tiny shells press into the glass panels near the floor.

      ‘Toughened glass. I wanted to get you a flat-bottomed boat like they use in Hawaii but the seas round here are too rough. So a guy along the coast built me this.’

      I swallow. ‘It’s lovely. How can I ever thank you?’

      He kisses me long and deep. ‘Oh, I’m sure we’ll find a way. Fancy a trip?’

      ‘Now?’ I don’t even wait for an answer. I start to drag it down to the water.

      It’s so light I can pull it by myself, but as it’s my first time Darnley takes one side and we carry it easily between us. When it’s bobbing in the shallows he loops the rope over a mooring post wedged into the rock at the edge of the beach and holds out his hand. ‘Madame, your gondola.’

      I lose my footing instantly as I clamber in and he scoops me up from the floor just as a splash from an incoming wavelet sprays water all over us.

      ‘You’d better wear the wetsuit too if your sea legs are as rusty as that.’ He gestures at some sealed packages stowed in the prow. When I explore I find a wet suit, goggles and even a snorkel.

      He grins fondly as I exclaim over them and then shows me how to start the thing before leaping out and pushing the craft down into the surging waves. To my delight the small motor starts first pull.

      He stays on the shingle, legs astride. ‘Off you go. Don’t head too far west or you’ll run out of gas before you reach China. Stay close to the coast.’ He turns and strides away and all at once I’m alone in my very own boat, with a whole new ocean at my feet.

      I head for the open water. Through the glass I see the shingle fade into sand and then quickly become a deep, murky blue-green as, far below, the beach shelves away into the deep. Soon I cut the engine and look longingly out at the glittering little wavelets. The water is very tempting, glittering in the sunlight. If only I could swim, just for a few minutes … do I dare?

      The breeze is chilly but the sun is warm. The shore’s deserted. There’s no one around … In minutes I’ve stripped off. Quivering with excitement I stretch and dive in, entering the water in a perfect, near-silent curve. The water’s a shock – far colder than it looks. But the feel of it on my bare skin is gorgeous – crisp and clean.

      I splash about happily in the sunshine for several minutes before clambering back over the side. Heady with freedom I stand up to let the sun warm me through. For a few glorious moments I turn round to catch the sun on all sides and then I wriggle back into my things. Next time I’ll bring a towel – or even try out the wet suit.

      I head back to shore, peering eagerly down through the glass panels at the murky shadows below. At last the shelving beach once more glides into view and I park my new present neatly on its shelf of gravelly sand.

      As I look up the first person I see is Darnley, striding down the sloping beach to meet me. But, as he draws near, the fury in his face wipes the happy smile off mine.

      ‘What the hell do you think you’re doing?’

       CHAPTER THREE

      Bewildered, I stare up at him. ‘Swimming, obviously …’ I tail off at the rage in his eyes. I hold his gaze, frowning. ‘Is that a problem? There’s nobody around.’

      Darnley looks