CHAPTER SIX

      A NOISE dragged Gaby from sleep. She propped herself up on an elbow and listened. The clock showed it was some time past three.

      There it was again.

      Suddenly, she was very much awake. She flung back the duvet and jumped out of bed. Her movements were swift and silent as she crossed the room and eased the door open. Everything was quiet again. All she could hear was her own magnified heartbeat. She crept towards Heather’s door and pushed it gently.

      Heather was fast asleep, one leg out of the duvet and an arm around a toy rabbit. Poor kid. She might act tough, but underneath she was a scared little girl who hung on to security anywhere she found it.

      Gaby was just pulling the door closed again when she heard a shout. The hairs on the back of her neck immediately stood to attention.

      Luke! Was he ill? You could never be too careful with Chinese takeaway. All it took was one dodgy prawn.

      She ran across the landing and knocked lightly on his door. There was no answer, but she could hear him groaning and moving around inside. She stayed frozen to the spot, fingertips resting on the door, not wanting to intrude, but reluctant to go back to bed without offering help.

      One more loud noise from inside the master bedroom was all it took. She pressed the flat of her hand on the door and pushed. The room was pitch dark. The door swung closed behind her and it took a good few seconds before her eyes adjusted to the blackness.

      ‘Luke?’ she whispered. ‘Are you all right?’

      He muttered something unintelligible.

      She tried again. ‘Are you ill?’

      This time she managed to work out a few words. ‘…can’t get out…’

      ‘Do you need help getting to the bathroom?’ Panic began to register in her voice. ‘Luke, please! Tell me what’s wrong.’

      She moved closer to the bed and laid a hand on his bare shoulder. Luke sat bolt upright and she jumped back, almost falling over.

      His eyes were open and he was staring—not at her—but at a bare patch of wall directly in front of him.

      He was still asleep.

      This was a nightmare or something. She vaguely remembered Justin sleepwalking and having what her parents called ‘night terrors’ when he was a boy. He used to scream and shout. Sometimes he’d walk around the house and do the strangest things—like put his wellies on and then just go back to bed as if nothing had happened.

      Trying to wake Luke was a bad idea. He’d probably lie down in a second and move into a deeper phase of sleep. She would just sit on the edge of the bed and watch him for five minutes, just to make sure it wasn’t the prawns after all.

      Her bottom had only just started to make a dent in the mattress when he moved his head in one swift turn to stare at her. She held her breath. If he’d just woken up, she was going to have a tough time explaining her presence in his bedroom—on his bed, no less—wearing nothing but an oversized T-shirt.

      But she needn’t have worried. He turned away again and shuffled over to the other side of the bed. She was on the verge of breathing out her relief, when she realised he was getting out. And she watched open-mouthed as he walked calmly to the door that led out on to the terrace, opened it and went outside.

      Gaby shot after him. The cold air hit her like a wall, but Luke didn’t even seem to notice. Thank goodness he was wearing pyjama bottoms. She hadn’t been able to tell while he was in bed. She wasn’t sure she could handle coaxing her naked boss back to bed. Seeing him shirtless was bad enough. It wouldn’t have been quite so uncomfortable if he were awake—in fact, under other circumstances, seeing such a finely toned torso would have been a definite bonus—but while he was unaware of her existence it felt voyeuristic.

      And she couldn’t think that way about this man.

      He stood motionless at the railing. Coming outside seemed to have soothed the dreams that had him tossing and turning a few minutes ago. But it had to be close to freezing outside; they’d both be hypothermic if they stood here much longer. She couldn’t leave him. What if he wandered down the steps? The tide was in. He could drown!

      The only option was to try and get him back inside. An image of her father leading Justin back to bed when he’d had one of his sleepwalking episodes floated to the surface of her memory.

      Luke still hadn’t moved and she walked over to him and gently took him by the hand. His fingers closed over hers, a gesture she found oddly warming, even though it was just a reflex.

      She moved towards the open door, tugging him gently. He didn’t budge. There was no way she was going to manage to drag him back inside. Over six foot of solid male, versus five-foot-five of slightly out of shape female wasn’t a fair contest.

      ‘Luke?’ She tried to keep her voice low and steady. ‘It’s time to go back inside now.’ Then she moved again and, amazingly, this time he let her lead him. ‘That’s it. We’re almost there now.’

      She ushered him into the room and shut the door behind them. Then, as an afterthought, she turned the key in the lock, removed it and searched for somewhere sensible to leave it. She could hear him moving around the room, pacing, and she didn’t want to waste time, so she just left it on the dressing table. Luke would scratch his head when he found it there in the morning.

      Now inside, Luke began to show signs of distress again. He walked over to the door and rattled the handle, obviously desperate to escape. What was she going to do? And what was going on inside his head? Was he was back in prison, feeling trapped and powerless?

      He just kept working the door handle, each attempt more frantic than the last. The top half of the door was glazed and he started banging on it with the flat of his hand, muttering something about needing to find her. She had no idea whether it was Heather or his wife he was talking about, and she didn’t have time to work it out. If he kept slamming his hand against the pane like that, it was going to shatter. And she couldn’t