The following day was warm and sunny and, throwing the windows and doors wide open, she vacuumed and scrubbed and polished the place from top to bottom. By evening she was stiff and aching, but everything was done to her satisfaction, and she rewarded herself with a long, luxuriating soak in the bath.
That night, relaxing with a glass of wine in front of another blazing fire, she was glad that she’d taken Damien’s advice to hold on to the cottage. Instead of selling it, she’d keep it. When they were married, this would be the ideal place to relax and unwind. The nearest house was half a mile away, so there were no noisy neighbours to disturb the peace and tranquillity. And eventually, of course, they’d be able to bring their own children here. Her parents would have liked that if they’d still been alive.
A sudden noise from outside caught her attention and drew her to the window. She peered out into the night but saw nothing. It had sounded like a rattle from the gate at the foot of the path, and she opened the door and called out nervously, ‘Who’s there? What do you want?’
There was no answer from the menacing darkness, and she strained her ears. From the woods to the left there was a fluttering of wings and the hoot of an owl. The river at the back of the cottage gurgled softly.
She stood for a moment longer, her breath quick and nervous, then, biting her lip, she closed the door and made sure that it was securely locked and bolted.
Pouring herself another glass of wine, she sat down by the fire again and told herself not to be such a coward. It had probably been nothing more sinister than a fox out foraging for scraps. It was that man Riffik who was to blame for the state of her nerves. All that talk about corsairs snatching people from their beds. Well, there was little chance of an ocean-going boat making its way up that tittle river.
No, she decided. She had nothing to fear from him. Damien had been right. Kassim Riffik was the hot-blooded Mediterranean type. All talk and come-to-bed eyes. Chatting up strange women was just a way of life to men like him, as natural as eating and drinking.
Her thoughts turned to Damien. She was going to have to be firm and get him to agree to a date for the wedding. When she’d had to make that ridiculous excuse to Sally about him being too busy at the moment, she’d felt embarrassed. After all, it only took half an hour at the most to get married in a register office. If he could afford to take a week’s holiday and come down here, he could surely afford the time off for a half-hour ceremony.
The heat of the fire and the wine she’d drunk were making her drowsy. The sensible thing to do was to go to bed, but she was too comfortable sitting right here, and slowly her eyelids began to droop. Her last thought before she fell asleep was that she’d have to check all the window-latches before she retired for the night…
The fire was low, although the room was still warm, when she opened her eyes. There was a strange prickling sensation in her arm, but she ignored it as she stared up at the dark stranger who was bending over her.
‘Hello, Janene. How are you feeling?’
His features were slightly blurred, but there was no mistaking those blue eyes. ‘I knew I was going to dream about you,’ she mumbled. She felt as if she was floating on a warm, spongy cloud.
‘Yes. I said we’d meet again, didn’t I?’
‘I know you did. That’s why I’m dreaming about you.’ She was pleased at how clever she was to have worked that out.
‘Can you stand?’ he asked quietly.
‘Of course I can stand,’ she said indignantly. She struggled to her feet and swayed. Peering into his face, she said, ‘There! I’m standing.’
‘Hmm…’ He shook his head doubtfully. ‘I think I’d better carry you.’
She smiled. ‘Go ahead.’ He lifted her easily and, as he cradled her in his arms, she clasped her hands around his neck. ‘I suppose you’re going to take me through to the bedroom now.’ His lips were enticingly close and she felt reckless and abandoned. After all, this was her dream and she could do anything she damn well pleased.
‘Do you want me to take you to bed?’ he asked softly.
‘I don’t mind,’ she replied, her eyes fixed firmly on his mouth. ‘After all those things you said to me at the party, it might be interesting to find out if you’re as good as you think you are.’
He gave a deep, throaty chuckle. ‘I am. But we don’t have time at the moment. That pleasure will have to wait till later.’
She frowned. This dream was getting disappointing. ‘Later might be too late,’ she said grumpily. ‘I could wake up at any minute.’
‘And if you did happen to wake up, you’d undoubtedly slap my face and demand to be put down immediately?’ he asked with a touch of irony.
She thought that over for a moment, then nodded. ‘Yes. I’d have to, wouldn’t I? I mean…I’m getting married to Damien very soon. I’d be cheating on him.’ His mouth was still close to hers and she wanted desperately to feel it against her own. Then slowly the dream began to fade, and she descended into a warm cocoon of darkness.
* * *
Someone was shaking her shoulder gently and she murmured sleepily, ‘Go away. I’m tired.’
The shaking persisted, and a woman’s voice with a French accent said, ‘We will be landing soon. I have brought you some tea. Drink it and you’ll feel better.’
Janene cautiously opened her eyes and took in her surroundings. Another dream. She was in a tiny lounge…sitting in a comfortable seat. The windows were small and she looked out. ‘Well! This was a new twist! She’d never dreamt of being in a plane before.
‘Please…take your tea.’
The girl was smiling at her. A pretty little stewardess in a light grey uniform. A door at the front of the lounge opened and Kassim entered. He took the cup from the stewardess and waited until she had departed back to the galley, then he said matter-of-factly, ‘This is mint tea. It’s very refreshing. I’m sure you’ll like it.’
Her eyes grew wider and the first stirrings of panic rose in her throat. This wasn’t a dream! This was real! She could even smell the mint in the tea from here. Looking at him in utter disbelief, she spluttered, ‘You—you’ve kidnapped me!’
A hint of mockery glinted from his blue eyes. ‘Yes…I suppose it appears that way to you.’ He offered her the cup once more. ‘Do you want this or not?’
‘You’ve kidnapped me!’ she repeated in a voice of incredulity. ‘You came to the cottage last night! I—I thought I was dreaming.’
‘That would be the effect of the drug.’ he said calmly. ‘But you’ve no need to—’
‘You drugged me?’ She shot to her feet in outrage and dashed the cup from his hand.
He surveyed the broken china and stained carpet at his feet, and shook his head. ‘Tut, tut. I didn’t realise that English girls went in for smashing crockery. I thought it was only volatile Italian ladies who did things like that.’ He looked up and gave her an apologetic shrug. ‘I merely administered a sedative which—’
‘You stuck a damned needle in my arm,’ she accused him hotly. ‘I remember feeling it now.’
He went on smoothly, ‘As I was saying, a sedative which is perfectly safe and non-addictive. It’s the same thing they give to patients in hospital a few hours before an operation. It soothes and calms the nerves.’
‘So now you’re a doctor, are you?’ she fumed.
‘I studied medicine