'Are we going to hear that clever little song again tonight, Miss Radley?' Luc Ferrier drawled, smiling in a way she did not like."

She flushed. 'No.'

'Pity,' he remarked, and Chris's hand enclosed her waist and drew her close to him in a possessive movement. He nodded to Luc Ferrier and they walked on in silence. Lissa did not know what was absorbing Chris's mind, but she was relieved not to have to talk.

She did her usual act that night and was aware of the disappointment of the audience, although they applauded goodhumouredly enough as she bowed. She had aroused their expectations last night and they were far less enthusiastic now.

Luc Ferrier was at his table again. Lissa shot him a hurried look and saw his dark head veiled in drifting smoke. A cigar glowed red in the shadows around him.

She felt oddly nervous as she went off. Chris was nowhere in sight and she kept her fingers crossed as she walked through to the foyer on her way to bed. He would be in the rooms, of course, but with any luck he would keep his promise with her own promise in mind. If he was really as desperate to marry her as he said he was, he wouldn't ruin it by gambling with that man again.

Fortune was at the desk with the night clerk. Lissa picked him up and rubbed his rough head. 'Been for a walk?' she asked.

'I didn't get no time, Miss Lissa,' the clerk apologised. 'Sorry, but we've been very busy.'

I'll take him,' she said, smiling. 'I could do with some air.'

Moonlight lay in wide silver lakes across the grounds, turning the leaves of trees into looking-glasses and sheeting the grass with pale light.

Lissa put Fortune down and he scampered away excitedly as he caught sight of a small thin shadow slipping away. One of the hotel cats, she realised, whistling the dog. Fortune kept going, growling in the back of his throat.

Making a face, Lissa followed him through the close-set trees. The scent of the honeysuckle drifted to her and she inhaled it "with a sigh.

She heard a footstep behind her and turned abruptly. A tall, dark figure emerged from the sheltering gloom around it, and her heart stopped with a fierce pang.

Her mouth dried up. She felt like running, which was absurd, because what did she think he might do? There were plenty of people within earshot and she only had to scream if he so much as laid a linger on her.

'Where are you going?' he asked lazily, sauntering towards her, the moonlight chequering his body and giving him the appearance of a harlequin, the black hair a neat cap.

'I'm taking my dog for a walk,' she said huskily, furious with herself for her own nervous reaction to him.

He came closer. She saw the blue eyes glinting in the moonlight, as though he could read the panic which had flared up in her and was amused by it.

'Your act tonight was more what I'd expected from you,' he told her softly.

Lissa prickled with annoyance at that, and a flush ran up her face. 'I'm glad you were pleased,' she said in a brittle voice.

He laughed, watching her with wicked amusement. Lissa turned to go on an impulse of sheer fury and he caught her arm.

'Don't move,' he said, as though warning her against some danger.

'Why?' she asked, startled.

'I want to watch the moonlight sliding down your throat and between your breasts,' he murmured, smiling, and Lissa's nerves leapt with angry fire.

She pushed his hand away and turned on her heel. The insolence of his tone was not making her as angry as her own reaction the look in the teasing blue eyes. Her spine had shivered as he stared at her like that.

As she walked away Luc Ferrier said softly, 'Lucky moonlight,' and although Lissa struggled to retain command of herself she was so alarmed that she broke into a run. She heard him laughing and could have burst into tears of humiliation.

Chris was terse and irritable next day. When he snapped at her Lissa looked at him in anxious surprise and he turned away, his shoulders set.

'Did you play last night?' she asked hurriedly, and he gave her a furious look.

'No, I didn't. I promised, didn't I?' Relief flooded into her and she understood the reason for his mood. Chris had kept his word, but it had been a hard struggle. He was feeling cross with her for demanding that promise. At least, though, he had won his fight against himself. Against himself-and against Luc Ferrier, she thought sinkingly.

She had not slept well again. Her dreams, when she had them, had been dappled with moonlight, which wasn't so surprising, since the moon lay all night in the room and passed over her sleeping face like a caressing, curious hand. In the dream moonlight Lissa was in flight from a faceless pursuing figure, a harlequin, silent and laughing at the same time. She did not once look over her shoulder, but she could feel him there and burning panic ran in her veins.

Whenever she had had problems as a child she had taken them away from the hotel to brood over them in private far away from everyone. Her favourite bolthole had been the echoing, creeper-hung forest which crept down towards the hotel from the hills.

The edge of it was penetrable, crowded with tall palms and banana trees, locust trees among whose brandies gleamed the brilliant plumage of tropical birds. She rarely saw anyone there.

When she had left Chris sulkily at work she whistled for Fortune and walked out of the hotel grounds, cutting along the narrow dirt track road which lay close beside the forest. The dog vanished on one of his own expeditions and Lissa moved off the track into the deep green of the forest.

The grass was thick and coarse, a vivid green, with flowers sprinkled among it. A little stream ran beneath the trees down from the hills. The stony bed of it could be seen clearly through the crystal clear water. Sunlight glanced through the foliage and sparkled on tiny quartz stones on the stream bottom. Lissa was wearing a pair of her brief denim shorts. She kicked off her straw sandals and waded into the stream. The water was cool, icy when it first left the hills but warming as it ran down to the sea. A gnarled willow hung over the water, and Lissa pulled a leaf from it, the long serrated edge almost cutting her palm, and stirred the water with it like a child.

There was a movement among the trees. Startled, she looked up, and the willow leaf fell from her hand and drifted, swirling, down the stream.,

Her heart beat a rapid tattoo as the black-haired figure moved towards her.

'How old did you say you were?' Luc Ferrier asked drily, staring at her long brown legs, the stream washing softly round them. The hem of her shorts was dark with splashed water. Her hair shone golden in the sunlight glancing through the trees.

It was more than a coincidence that he was there and

Lissa knew it, her instincts prickling.

'You followed me I' she accused.

He leaned on the low branch of the willow, his long lean body as briefly clad as her own in shorts and a sleeveless black cotton top.

'Clever,' he mocked, eyeing her with amusement.

Last night he had flung her into panic and confusion, but this morning it was daylight and she did not intend to let him bother her again. She lifted her rounded chin defiantly and glared at him, the green eyes very sharp and cold.

'I don't know what's in your mind, Mr Ferrier…'

'Oh, yes, you do,' he drawled, a wicked light in his eyes.

Her flush deepened, but she obstinately went on with her little speech. 'But I'm not interested.'

'Sleep well last night?' he asked softly, and their eyes clashed before Lissa could look away. She felt the probe of his stare intensely. He slowly moved his eyes and looked at her throat. The tiny blue vein visible beneath her skin began to beat faster than ever. Lissa struggled to get a grip on herself; bewildered, deeply disturbed. She didn't even like him. He frightened her. Why was she trembling like this?