A huge thunderclap drew him to the other side of the living room. He was going to have to draw the interior shutters across the windows if this carried on much longer. And then he nearly laughed at himself. A few weeks ago, he wouldn’t have cared if the glass broke, if the estate was damaged. But it was beginning to get under his skin. He was suddenly concerned about the vines weathering the storm. Any damage to the estate, he knew was not down to concern about the sale price, but concern for the building that was vastly coming to mean more to him now than it had ever done before. He was worried about the glass panes in the orangery and what that might mean for Victoria’s wedding in just a few days. Was he really ready to hand all this over to someone who might not care about the weird and wonderful people in Hawke’s Cove?

He looked out of the window, down to the forest towards the beach below and …

Was that a light? A white beam glinted in between the dark shadowy trees. He must have been imagining it. No, wait. There it was again.

Who the hell would be out there at this time of night in this weather? Suddenly he had a horrible suspicion that there was only one possible answer. But she couldn’t be, could she?

Cursing out loud into the silence of the room, he ran down the sweeping staircase, grabbed his coat and keys to the Jeep, fear firing his actions. Rain slashed against him in harsh waves as he flung himself out of the front door and raced towards the car.

Switching on the headlights and the windscreen wipers he had a sudden flash from the accident ten years before. White-knuckled, he gripped the steering wheel as he guided the Jeep down the track towards the woods that would take him to the beach.

Leaves and broken twigs lashed the old Jeep’s windscreen and he revved the engine as he bumped and dipped through the uneven ground of the forest floor. If it was her, he was going to throttle her. He realized at that moment he might be the only person on earth hoping that there were burglars or smugglers on the beach rather than a wholly irresponsible, wedding-crazed, overly soft-hearted, incredibly beautiful, absolutely infuriating Lily Atwell.

As the Jeep crested the bank to the border of the beach, the headlights picked out a scene of utter madness. He knew that Lily had been making hen party preparations down here in the last few days, but … he was shocked.

He was just able to make out a boat on the jetty, bobbing up and down dangerously on the waves and heard himself growl within the confines of the Jeep. Had she taken that boat out in this weather? The thought filled him with dread. Of all the—