She knew what she was being led towards. And was glad. Madly, deliriously so.

Tomas halted. ‘Are you sure?’ She nodded. ‘We can return the minute you want.’ He smiled wryly. ‘Sex can be ridiculous. Funny and serious and cruel.’

She didn’t wish to hear about his experiences, albeit in a coded manner, especially if they involved… Lucia? She took a deep breath. ‘I don’t know much.’

He scrutinized her face. ‘I don’t think you enjoyed it. Am I right?’

Talking about Rob still bothered her. ‘He didn’t care for me and I cared for him. An old story.’ Talking about it was always a mistake because it stirred up the feelings.

He took her hand and traced a circle in its palm. ‘We are in the forest, a place of magic and new discoveries. You’ve been sleeping and I have come to wake you up.’

‘You make it sound as if we are stories.’

‘We are. Lovely and exciting ones.’

At that she flushed self-consciously. Was it so obvious that she was longing to experience love? Proper love. Not like the wretched obsession with Rob but the elemental response to the vivid dreams, expectations and sensuous reveries… the unknown parts of her mind, the shadowy places in her psyche?

They ventured deeper into the wood where the air was very still but the colours vivid – deep greens, a clump of orange and yellow, the bloody dots of early berries. The crack of twigs under their feet, the rustle of a disturbed animal, the sly flash of fungi in the fissure of a root, shadows casting pools of darkness between the trees which they passed. The call of an ancient, mythic territory was luring them into its heart.

By the time Tomas came to a halt in a clearing with a spread of turf, her shirt was clinging to her back. Panting with the heat, she dropped down and peeled the drenched cotton away from her arms.

Tomas knelt beside her. ‘You are the Sleeping Beauty, I think.’

She turned her head and stared deep into his eyes. ‘But you haven’t been through the hedge of thorns.’

‘Oh yes, I have. You were asleep.’

‘It took a long time.’

‘Don’t worry. He always gets there. Somehow.’ He touched her drenched shirt. ‘Why don’t you take it off?’

It was then that she felt afraid – of what she was getting into, of the pain she feared might lie ahead, and its finale. How could there be a good ending?

Tomas eased the shirt off her. ‘Do you mind that it’s here?’ he asked. ‘Privacy is hard in this country.’

Instinctively, she wrapped her arms around her torso. ‘But it should be here. Out in the wild.’

He stroked her bare shoulders. ‘I’m not going to hurt you.’