BOOK 3

PROLOGUE

No. Oh, no. No/ Brand slammed his fist into the pillow. It wasn't possible. He swore, silently and with passion. He couldn't have, wouldn't have . . .

The woman who lay beside him in the bed wrinkled her nose in her sleep. Brand inhaled a long draught of air. He had to stay in control. This square attic room with its sweating walls must stay in focus. He couldn't allow it to turn upside-down.

Slowly the room—or was it his head?—came to rest the way it was meant to be. He forced himself to keep calm as he lay on his side and gazed at his companion of the night. If that was what she was. He supposed she must be. Her long, dark hair was spread out on his pillow and her chest rose and fell steadily, as if she had been asleep for some hours.

Brand dashed a hand across his eyes. Surely to heaven he must be dreaming. Just as he had been dreaming last night that his Mary was once again beside him. Although Mary had been merely pretty, and this woman with the heart-shaped face, impossi