She didn’t know where she was. She didn’t know where she’d been. There was no memory of the tall, wind-whipped trees. The crash and power of the sea close by meant nothing, nor did the scent of the rain-drenched flowers she crushed underfoot as she fled along the side of a road she didn’t know.

She was weeping, but unaware of it. Sobs wracked her, clawing at the fear, doubling it so that it sprinted through her in the absence of everything else. Her mind was so clouded, her legs so unsteady. It would be easy to simply curl up under one of those trees and give up. Something pushed her on. Not just fear, not just confusion. Strength—though one wouldn’t guess it to look at her, though she herself didn’t recognize it—drove her beyond endurance. She wouldn’t go back to where she’d been, so there was no place to go but on.

How long she’d been running wasn’t important. She’d no idea whether it’d been one mile or ten. Rain and tears blinded her. The lights were nearly on her before she saw them.

Panicked, like a rabbit caught in the beams, she froze. They’d found her. They’d come after her. They. The horn blasted, tires squealed. Submitting at last, she crumpled onto the road, unconscious.

Chapter 1

“She’s coming out of it.”

“Thank God.”

“Sir, you must step back for a moment and let me examine her. She may just be drifting again.”

Over the mists she was swimming in, she heard the voices. Hollow, distant. Fear scrambled through her. Even in her half-conscious state her breath began to catch. She hadn’t escaped. But the fear wouldn’t show. She promised herself that. As she came closer to the surface, she closed her hands into tight fists. The feel of her fingers against her palms gave her some sense of self and control.

Slowly she opened her eyes. Her vision ebbed, clouded, then gradually cleared. So, as she stared into the face bending over her, did the fear.

The face wasn’t familiar. It wasn’t one of them. She’d know, wouldn’t she? Her confidence wavered a moment, but she remained still. This face was round and pleasant, with a trim, curling white beard that contrasted with the smooth, bald head. The eyes were shrewd, tired, but kind. When he took her hand in his, she didn’t struggle.

“My dear,” he said in a charming, low-key voice. Gently he ran a finger over her knuckles until her fingers relaxed. “You’re quite safe.”

She felt him take her pulse, but continued to stare into his eyes. Safe. Still cautious, she let her gaze wander away from his. Hospital. Though the room was almost elegant and quite large, she knew she was in a hospital. The room smelled strongly of flowers and antiseptics. Then she saw the man standing just to the side.

His bearing was militarily straight and he was impeccably dressed. His hair was flecked with gray, but it was still very dark and full. His face was lean, aristocratic, handsome. It was stern, she thought, but pale, very pale compared to the shadows under his eyes. Despite his stance and dress, he looked as though he hadn’t slept in days.