Her perfume lingered when she’d gone. Not overpowering, but light and sweet where it drifted on the air like May blossom. Breathing it in and feeling its unsettling effect, Adrian picked up his empty wineglass and flicked it restlessly with his nail. Kate hadn’t worn perfume—at least, not that he remembered. Could he enforce a rule that the wearing of perfume was banned whenever he was around, on the grounds that it was far too distracting for his peace of mind? He could just imagine what his pretty new housekeeper would think about that. No doubt she already saw him as a younger version of Scrooge. But why should he worry when, if his initial assumption proved to be right, she wouldn’t even last the week? Irritably he put down the wineglass. Then folding his arms across his chest, he leant back against the high-backed dining chair and briefly shut his eyes.

      Nicole had always worn perfume. Even in the most unsuitable places, including the jungle. She used to laugh that a girl had standards to maintain and should never forget her femininity…The thought stole up on him like a thief in the night, searing his chest like a firebrand, and he sat bolt upright, grasping the edges of the table for support. That was twice in one day he’d thought about Nicole—the woman he’d planned to marry, fellow journalist and love of his life. Months had gone by without him allowing such thoughts access to even the merest dusty corner of his mind, and now twice in the space of less than twelve hours her memory had hit him hard, like a fierce blow slamming into his ribcage that doubled him up in agony. His mind’s eye saw her: glorious red-gold hair splayed out on that sun-baked concrete, blood staining the silken strands like some vile desecration; her beautiful green eyes staring up at Adrian in confusion and pain as she drew her last few breaths on this earth.

      The news team had been warned about a possible attack on the embassy for weeks leading up to the terrorist bomb that had blown it to smithereens. But on that baking-hot day, after they’d travelled for three days to get there through notorious bandit country, Adrian’s belief in his own invincibility had been sky-high. So much so that he’d convinced the other, less confident members of his crew that, as long as they kept their wits about them at all times, all would be well. Seconds before they started to walk into the embassy, he’d been sharing a joke with Nicole about the unappetising rations they’d endured the last few days, when Mark, one of the older, more experienced cameramen on the team, had called him back to the Jeep to fetch the micro-cassette recorder he had left behind. Just as Adrian had reached the hot, mud-splattered vehicle all hell had broken loose, in an ear-splitting explosion that had sounded like the end of the world. Mark had shoved him roughly to the ground to give him some cover and Adrian had stared helplessly across to the sidewalk to see Nicole lying there…

      ‘I wonder if any more snow will fall during the night.’

      ‘What?’ Staring distractedly up into Liadan’s guileless blue gaze, Adrian forced his attention abruptly back to the present. Watching her small, pale hand steadily pour the ruby-red wine into his empty glass, he stole a second or two to wipe away the perspiration that he knew beaded his brow.

      ‘I said, I wonder if it will snow again tonight?’ Smiling, she put down the bottle, then adjusted his place-mat so that it sat more squarely on the table.

      ‘I have many interests but predicting the weather isn’t one of them.’

      In less than a second, his caustic comment had wiped the smile from her face as though it had never been. Seeing the hurt in her eyes, Adrian took a deep slug of wine, remaining stubbornly silent as she mumbled, ‘Excuse me,’ and retreated from the room without another word.