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mean?’
    â€˜Did Wendy tell you I’m a workaholic? She’s right, I suppose. I find difficulty delegating, convinced no one can do things as well as I do.’ She felt him glance at her. ‘But yes, to answer your question, I am enjoying it, mainly thanks to you.’
    She gave an uncertain little laugh. God, where was everyone? Surely someone must be coming in this direction? She daren’t turn round, but all was quiet behind them.
    â€˜It’s difficult to admit, for a hard-bitten old cynic like me,’ he was continuing, in that new, low voice, ‘but it was I who suggested Wendy ask you to join us, back in Cape Town. And I can tell you she and George have been pulling my leg ever since.’
    â€˜I’ve . . . enjoyed being with you all,’ Anna said.
    He continued as though she hadn’t spoken. ‘It was a blow to learn you’d been widowed. With no husband in tow, I was hoping you were divorced, like me. Wendy warned it might be too soon, but – well, by then the die was cast. I’m known for my quick decisions – in business it’s a necessity – and the more time we’ve spent together, the more certain I’ve become. But now time’s running out, so I have to know, Anna. Is there any chance at all for me? If not now, in the future sometime?’
    God help her, how could she answer him? Of course she enjoyed being with him, but Miles had only—
    He pulled her gently off the path and into the shadows of a rondavel.
    â€˜At least not an immediate “no”,’ he said softly. And then, without either of them seeming to move, he was holding her close and kissing her, and all logic and reason evaporated in a surge of longing as the blood coursed through her veins, and sensations she’d never expected to feel again flooded over her.
    Only the sound of approaching voices pulled them apart, and they stood immobile as a group, chatting and laughing, passed by on the path, a mere ten feet from them. As their footsteps died away, Lewis said, not quite steadily, ‘It’s like being sixteen again!’
    Anna stepped quickly away, the enormity of what had happened sluicing over her. Oh, God, God, God!
    â€˜Anna?’ he said tentatively.
    â€˜I don’t . . .’ she began, and stopped.
    â€˜Look –’ his voice was gentle – ‘I took you by surprise, I appreciate that. Damn it, I took myself by surprise. But surely that doesn’t alter how we feel?’
    She lifted her hands helplessly, searching for the right words – but what were they?
    He sighed. ‘Let’s leave it for the moment. You need time to think things over. If I’ve jumped the gun, I apologize. We can take it as slowly as you like, continue to meet back in the UK, perhaps, and see how things develop?’
    He paused. ‘I suspect you’re feeling disloyal to your husband, but ask yourself if he’d really want you to spend the rest of your life alone. We’re both adults, Anna, free to do as we choose without hurting anyone. Remember that.’
    When she still didn’t speak, he took her arm and led her back to the path. ‘What number is your chalet?’
    â€˜Seventeen.’
    He took her hand, and they walked in silence along the path, lit by his torch. Much to Anna’s relief, they saw no one. When they reached her hut, he waited while she fitted the key in the lock with shaking fingers, then bent and kissed her cheek.
    â€˜Goodnight, my love,’ he said.
    Stumbling inside, Anna pushed the door shut and leant against it, eyes closed, straining to hear his retreating footsteps. As they died away, she walked slowly to the bed and, sinking down, put her hands to her face, fingers splayed. Her heart was still knocking painfully against her ribs. Anna Farrell, she thought mockingly, known for her self-control, her cool detachment, her sangfroid! Where were they now?
    Until the