Feeling drained of energy, Oliver flopped back against his chair and stared blankly out of the window. There had gone a man who had known tragedy in his life, the death of a beloved brother and the heartbreak of feeling responsible for it. Ted Trembath had never forgiven himself for taking the boy along on the smuggling run. In his grief he had murdered evil Old Tom Trelynne, Kerensa’s grandfather, for betraying the smuggling run to the authorities, which had led to Davey Trembath’s death. Ted had since lost his mother through insanity and his two other brothers had been killed in separate accidents down the mine. Ted had been left with no one, his livelihood had been threatened by the mere fact he was ageing – not that he was old at thirty-four but too old for an underground miner – then an accident had put paid even to that. Now life had taken an upturn for Ted and he was looking forward to a new life with a new family.

Not so with me, Oliver thought bitterly. I had a new life and a new family after years of loneliness and now it’s all gone sour. I’ve loved and trusted one person more than any other in my life only to find that she betrayed me.

Oliver rubbed his hands over his face to force away his tiredness and tried to lose himself in his paperwork. But he knew it wouldn’t work for long. He would feel either an uncontrollable rage in which he had to keep away from Kerensa, or an agony of longing to know his lost brother and the desire to jump in a boat and scour the sea for him.

‘Is everything well with Ted Trembath?’

Oliver gave Kerensa no answer. He was watching as she attended the lazy fire in the master bedroom. His gaze drifted and lingered on the gentle contours of her slender body, the delicately moulded form that he knew so well. Her flimsy nightgown concealed little to his experienced eyes.

Rising from the fire she shook her head to loosen the silky hair at the nape of her neck, the movement swirling the glossy length teasingly over the ivory-smooth skin of her bare shoulder where the gown had slipped. Her skin glowed rich and creamy in the firelight. The grey-green of her eyes seemed deeper tonight and so poignantly sad. Oliver stood leaning against his dressing-room door, silent and mesmerised.

Believing he was there only to change his clothes before he went out for the night and that his silence would last until then, as it had so many times before, Kerensa gulped back a sob rising in her throat and sat at her dressing table. She picked up a hairbrush and ran a thumb over the bristles then traced the scroll patterns on its heavy silver back.