Myths of the Moon [antikvár]

CHAPTER ONE He'd fallen asleep. But, in spite of that long, hard body sprawled in the red wing-chair by the fire, he managed to retain an air of wary vigilance. In a position when most men would look vulnerable, this one looked threatening Carla hesitated in the doorway, tray in hand. Then she crept quietly into the cottage, and closed the front door behind her. She could feel her heart beating a touch faster than normal. Carefully, soundlessly, she put the tray down on the black oak sideboard by the door, and stared at him. Who was he? Not for the first time in the past twenty-four hours, she wondered bleakly what on earth she'd got herself into. It was all very well being a good Samaritan. And she being naturally stubborn, the words of warning from friends in the village had merely made her more determined to offer help She had the accommodation. She'd had this small self-contained cottage converted last year, from the stables of her stone farmhouse. She rented it out to holidaymakers in the summer. It had a superb view over the bay, and down along a mystical, timeless stretch of south Cornish coastline. It even overlooked the precise spot where the cliff accident