Sarah Morgan Summer Collection

The storm struck at dawn.

Hearing a consistent hammering, Ethan woke from a restless sleep, wondering whether the wind was rattling the windows. Then he realised that the hammering was coming from the back door.

Trouble with Fraser?

He’d rung Logan before going to bed and his colleague had assured him that Fraser was sleeping and seemed comfortable. He’d been sick once but that was to be expected after a head injury and Logan hadn’t been unduly concerned. All his other signs were fine and they had been going to monitor him.

The hammering came again, louder this time, and Ethan forced himself out of bed.

Wondering what new crisis he was about to face, he tugged on a pair of jeans, jerked open the door and felt his entire body tense.

Kyla stood there, her face alight with excitement. ‘Come with me. There’s something I want to show you.’

Ethan pushed away the claws of sleep that were threatening to drag him down. ‘Something’s happened to Fraser? He was OK when I rang.’

‘As far as I know, he’s still OK. This isn’t about Fraser. It’s nothing to do with work.’ She held out a hand. ‘Come with me.’

‘Now?’

She smiled. ‘Now is the best time.’

‘It’s the middle of the night. There’s a storm building. It’s wild outside.’

‘It hasn’t even begun yet, and it’s dawn. There’s plenty of light.’ There was a strange gleam in her eyes. ‘Are you afraid, Ethan?’

Everything about her seemed vivid and full of life, and Ethan realised that the answer to her question should be yes. He was afraid.

But not of the storm. He was afraid of her. Of his feelings for her. Of where this wild, crazy chemistry was going to take them.

He still hadn’t told her the truth about himself.

‘There won’t be anything to see in this weather. It’s raining and the visibility is zero.’

‘Now you’re talking like an Englishman.’ She thrust his coat into his hands and opened the front door. The wind tried to slam it shut again but Kyla leaned against it with her shoulders and zipped up her jacket. ‘I hope you’re feeling fit, Ethan.’

‘Where are we going?’ They were outside now and he had to shout to make himself heard above the screaming, howling wind. It slammed into them as they left the cottage, as if fiercely angry that anyone should dare to venture into its territory.

‘Back up to the castle. Only this time we’re walking.’

‘Sorry?’ He shot her an incredulous look, wondering what had happened to her. ‘Kyla, we just came from there.’

‘This is different. You said that you hadn’t seen the ruins.’

‘There’s a storm and it’s not even fully light yet.’

‘It’s the best time. Trust me.’

This time she ignored the car and crossed the road towards the grassy hill that led to the ruins, her hair blowing across her face.

The jagged outline of the castle was barely visible through the driving rain, and Ethan grimaced and wiped the water from his eyes as the spray of the sea mixed with the rain. He tasted salt, felt the air sting his cheeks and looked at Kyla in disbelief.

Being out in this weather was crazy, but she didn’t seem to see anything odd in it.

The rain had turned her soft honey-coloured hair to sleek, dark gold and droplets of water clung to her lashes and her cheeks, but she didn’t seem to care. In fact, he would have said that she relished being so close to the elements. He’d never seen her happier.

And her response intrigued him because he knew no other woman who would have been so comfortable in such filthy weather conditions.

She was half-wild, he thought to himself, watching as she scrambled over a gate and started up the grassy slope. The wind crashed across her path, trying to turn her, but she was graceful and sure-footed as she ran, and Ethan could do nothing but follow, exhilaration mingling with exasperation.

She scrambled over the outer walls of the castle that were now no more than a few ruined rocks, and climbed across some uneven ground that led to the ancient, crumbling fort.

‘We have to climb up.’ She raised her voice to be heard above the wind and he followed her and then stopped, suddenly understanding why she’d brought him here.

Furious red streaks were splashed across the sky, as if an artist had just taken a brush and angrily thrown paint at a canvas. The grey, threatening outline of the ruins loomed from the rain and mist and beyond that stretched the sea, boiling and foaming with fury as the wind and the currents fought for supremacy.

‘You can imagine it, can’t you? The Vikings landing there?’ She steadied herself, pointed down to the beach, and then lifted her hand to anchor her hair, which was blowing wildly. With a shift of her feet she balanced herself against the wind as she stared across the west of the island. ‘They must have looked up and seen this castle and been afraid. They must have wondered whether to turn home and give up. When I stand up here in a storm I can feel the history of the place so strongly.’

He couldn’t take his eyes off her profile. ‘You’re as bad as Fraser.’

‘There’s nothing wrong with being interested in your heritage.’ She turned to face him and smiled. ‘Was it worth the climb?’

He dragged his eyes away from her and stared at the ruins and then at the sea. He’d never seen a wilder, more atmospheric place. ‘It was worth the climb.’

‘This place is at its best when the weather is bad.’

He laughed and shook his head. ‘You’re crazy, do you know that?’

‘Am I?’ The wind gusted and she grabbed his arm for support. ‘If we drop down to just below the ruined tower, it’s sheltered. We can sit there and watch the sun come up.’

Ethan stared at the sky. ‘I don’t think there’s going to be any sun,’ he muttered, but he followed her across the patch of grass, over some stones and down again until they were sheltered by a large wall.

‘Do you have any idea how old this place is? They reckon it’s one of the earliest castles, although it’s been built on over the centuries, of course.’ She ran her hands over the grey, uneven bricks and looked through the tiny slit window. ‘When I was a child I used to come up here with Logan and play warriors. He used to be the invading army and I used to be the one defending the castle.’

He could imagine her doing exactly that, with her hair streaming down her back, her chin lifted and her eyes blazing as she and Logan argued over who was in charge.

‘Did you cover him in boiling oil?’

‘No. Buckets of ice-cold water. My aim was brilliant. He used to complain like mad.’ She stepped towards him and took the front of his jacket in her hands. ‘You were brave last night with Fraser. You acted like an islander.’

Her face was so close that her cheek almost brushed against his. Ethan clenched his jaw and kept his eyes ahead because he knew that to look at her now would be too great a test of his self-control. And then she moved her head fractionally and he felt her touch her lips to his, and he just couldn’t help himself. He was drawn to her in the same way that he’d been drawn to her on that very first day. He looked. And fell. Deep, deep into her stormy blue eyes that held both warning and invitation.

He issued his own warning. ‘I’m not an islander.’ There was so much that he still had to tell her and yet suddenly he couldn’t remember any of it with the heat and awareness devouring them both like a greedy animal.

Her mouth was so close to his that he could feel her breath mingling with his. ‘But you could be, Ethan. You could be.’

He was surrounded by her. The scent of her. The sound of her. The feel of her. His insides locked with lust. And in those tense, sexually charged few moments they both knew what was going to happen.

He was seeing it in her eyes and he knew that she was seeing it in his. And suddenly all the reasons that he shouldn’t be doing this were eclipsed by all the reasons that he should.