She’d already run that particular gauntlet when she’d left the ceilidh, with plenty of offers to walk her home. All the way to her family’s cottage, Forrigan.

The familiar faces of Josh Huntly and his assorted mates had met her at the door. She’d already danced with Josh and a couple of the others, including the shy Finn Campbell, but hadn’t taken anyone up on their offer, knowing full well a walk wasn’t what they had in mind.

Been there. Done that. No longer interested.

She checked her phone, but the waited-for message hadn’t arrived . . . yet.

She took a deep breath of the night air, filled with the scent of pine. The June weather had been warm and dry. Even here, the normally boggy ground and its three amber peaty pools had partially dried out.

The rain will come, everyone said. Hopefully soon enough to prevent a fire in the pinewoods or the moor.

She tried to imagine such a fire . . . the crackling of the bone-dry heather, the whoosh as the pine needles flared up, the hot sweet smell of smouldering peat.

It should have frightened her, but it didn’t. Not until she thought of the green woman and man ablaze. The leaves and winding branches that made up their bodies a mass of fire. Like back when they’d burned women as witches. That was an image she didn’t like.

The crack of a twig underfoot caused her to turn in anticipation.

She rose to greet him, hearing his footsteps cross the needle-strewn forest floor, feeling a surge of desire.

Her smile, at first warm and welcoming, slowly shifted to something very different as she realized the footsteps were multiple, and none of them were likely to be his.

Greg

Now

Blood hit the mirror in a fine spray.

Cursing, he grabbed a towel and wiped his face, his hand and then the mirror.

So much blood for such a small cut.

He was examining the damage when a sleepy Joanne appeared beside him to kiss the wound.

‘There,’ she said. ‘All better.’ She laughed. ‘For a man who can cleanly butcher a deer, you seem a little careless with your own face.’

There was a smear of blood on her lips. He put his mouth on hers, tasting it. This is what it had been like since the moment they’d met in London. This gnawing hunger for her, which had never abated.

Taking her in his arms, he lifted her on to the surface. She laughed as he moved to position himself between her legs.

Later, when he was finally dressed, she asked if he might pick up a few things in the local shop for her.

He assumed an amused smile. ‘I’m out on the hill all day. You could take a walk down yourself?’

She didn’t look keen to do that. ‘Caroline doesn’t like me,’ she said with a wry smile.