“What’s happening? What is it?” Belinda murmured sleepily. I could see why she had had so many problem encounters with men if it took more than this to wake her up!

My heart was thudding so fast I could hardly breathe. A cigarette lighter was switched on, revealing a disheveled young man with dark, unruly curls not unlike Darcy’s staring at us as if we were ghosts. He was wearing a big fisherman’s jersey, his trousers were rolled up above bare legs and he was holding that lighter out in front of him as if to keep us at bay.

The only comforting thought was that he looked as alarmed at seeing us as I was at finding him climbing into my bed beside me.

“Who the devil are you?” he demanded. “What are you doing here?”

Belinda had regained consciousness. “I am Belinda Warburton-Stoke and this is my property. So more to the point would be what are you doing here?”

“The place has been empty for years,” he said. “I’ve been using it when I come back late from a fishing trip. Good little harbor to put into when the sea gets up.” He stopped, thought for a moment and then said, “Did you say you were Belinda? Lady Knott’s granddaughter?”

“That’s right. My grandmother has died and I have inherited her property,” Belinda said, still sounding like I did when I was under extreme duress and could hear myself giving an imitation of my great-grandmother Queen Victoria.

“Your old granny was quite fond of me,” the intruder said. “She used to let me use this place.”

“Did she really? Well, I’m afraid those days are over. Kindly leave immediately.”

He came a little closer, holding up the lighter over us. “But I remember you,” he said. “You used to come down here for the summers, didn’t you? There was that whole group of kids. I used to join you when I wasn’t needed to help my dad. I’m Jago. Remember me?”

“Jago?” She stared at him. “But you were a skinny boy, rather shy around the rest of us. And didn’t you have blond hair in those days?”

“That’s right. From being out in the sun so much. I might have grown and filled out a bit since then.” And he laughed. Again I was struck by the resemblance to Darcy. That self-assured, almost cocky laughter. He was really rather handsome.

“And I seem to remember you were quite a pale and skinny little girl yourself at the time. You had freckles and your hair also wasn’t quite as dark.”

“Maybe so.” Belinda snapped the words, confirming what I had always suspected—she dyed her hair black. “So you’re still living down here and fishing for a living?”

“Well, the fishing is more like a sideline,” he said. “But, yes, I’m still down here.”