The look of fear on his arrogant, self-satisfied face as he saw the gun. That had been worth seeing. He didn’t have time to plead for his life, but his eyes were wide in terror. If Heck died now at the hands of these people, it would be worth it to have seen the terror in those eyes.

Heck hadn’t stopped to inspect his handiwork. With pain searing through his right arm where he had been cut, he transferred the pistol to his left hand and ran along the bank of the lake. He was fast and strong and had the element of surprise. But it was only a matter of moments before his pursuers were on his tail, shouting in guttural German, firing wildly in his direction.

Once in the woods, he crashed through the undergrowth, heading downhill all the time. He didn’t have any idea where he was going, only that he would move until he was sure he had lost them – or until they caught him and killed him. If he could take some of them before they got him, so much the better.

He would shoot as many he could. And for as long as he stayed alive, he would stab them with his knife or beat them to death with his fist, with a fallen branch, a rock, anything.

*

Blood was seeping through Lilly’s fingers. She spoke to him softly in French. ‘Julius, please live, my darling. You must live.’

He was conscious but his pain was great and she had no way of easing it. All she could do was stem the flow of blood with the cloth of her skirt. He was breathing fast and seemed to be trying to speak, but no words emerged from his mouth.

What had just happened? Why had someone attacked her beautiful Julius?

For a moment she thought this whole night must be a bad dream. When he came for her at the camp, he held her tenderly and told her that he was taking her home to meet his family and his people.

It sounded the most natural thing in the world. Why wouldn’t the man she loved want to introduce her to his mother and siblings?

But then, at his great house in this high alpine village, his mother received her in a cold and haughty manner and despatched her to a bedchamber with a woman from the village who proceeded to spend an hour bustling around her, bathing her, dressing her in fine clothes and making the best of her short hair. She hadn’t asked for any of it and nor did she want it.

Why hadn’t Julius eased her in more gently?

She felt trapped and helpless. She was a lone foreigner among these people, and she had no power to resist. She was supposed to be a bride, but it occurred to her that she was their prisoner.