In the evening, he sat with his grandmother explaining his need to leave so urgently. He told her about another movie project which would occupy his hours for the next three months. She had nodded her head sadly as he kissed her on the cheeks.

Somehow later that evening, he found himself in the children's bedroom. He spent a few hours with them as they played. A sadness filled his heart when he looked at their cheery faces. He was going to miss them and the adoring way in which they called him "Papa".

"You will come back, right?" said Hannah, as she lay in her bed.

"For you, I will," he replied, rubbing her nose with his. "I always will." He tucked the covers around her tightly.

"I missed you at dinner," she said, sleepily. Her eyes fluttered, trying to keep awake.

He smiled and turned the lights out.

In the darkness, he tossed and turned in his bed, his memory torturing him with a replay of the jealousy he felt when he had seen Emma and Richard together. He realised then that he would never be able to tolerate seeing her in the arms of another man. Yielding to his insomnia, he rose out of his bed and pulled on a pair of pants and a cotton vest. He noticed lights streaming through his windows. It was one of those spring Skye nights of aurora borealis, where the sky would be beautifully painted with a mult.i.tude of colourful fluorescent shades.

He strode to the library. He felt a sudden breeze as he entered and noticed the doors to the balcony was open. When he reached it, he saw her standing in the corner, her eyes focused on the dazzling mat of lights in the horizon.

He stopped, holding his breath for a second. She was beautiful. Her long hair fell down to her hips. Her nightdress was so soft and thin, he could see her nipples erect against it. His eyes ran down the length of her, imagining the shape of her exquisite naked body under it. A breeze fluttered again, lifting the strands of her hair off her shoulders revealing her ivory skin.

His felt a stir in his loins. If he didn't say anything, he'd grow crazy with the desire he was feeling for her.

"You've never seen an aurora before?"

She was surprised to see him. "I have," she smiled. "But each time I look at it, it's like I'm seeing it for the first time. Like palm prints. Each is different."

She raised her hand to the night sky. "If only we could touch it," she whispered.

Mesmerised, he walked over to her slowly. Standing behind her, he put his palm over hers. They stroked the aurora softly in unison. He caressed her arm and laid it gently at his nape. He traced the underside of her arm, softly down her body until he reached her b.r.e.a.s.t.s. He inhaled a sharp breath as he leaned closer to her. He trailed her neck with his lips as his hands cupped her b.r.e.a.s.t.s. He heard her whimper.

She felt him hard against her. Her eyes closed, she felt his lips against her skin, his hands tracing the length of her body.

When he turned her around to kiss her, her lips parted, his tongue unknotting the desires within her. She was hot at her core and her legs trembled under her.

He picked her up in his arms and walked to his bedroom, kissing her as he did.

Inside, he gently pulled off her dress and laid her on his bed. She kissed him as he let her undress him.

He leant towards her and took her hard, erect nipples in his mouth. He cupped her b.u.t.tocks pulling her closer to him. He rubbed his chest against her b.r.e.a.s.t.s as he tasted her creamy skin. And when she couldn't take it anymore, he tormented her further by tracing her body with his lips down to her navel and to her core. Finally, he stepped astride her and entered her gently. A moan escaped her lips and she closed her eyes to feel him even more.

He felt her fingers clasp his back tightly, as he fell further and further into her. Rocking gently, she moved rhythmically with him and when they became one, she cried softly.

It was still dark outside but the aurora was long gone. Chris looked over at the woman sleeping beside him. He gently brushed away her hair so he could see her face. His fingers traced her eyes and lips and down her naked side. But when she stirred, he stopped. She looked so peaceful, he didn't want to wake her.

He dressed himself quietly and left the bedroom. Outside, Theodore was waiting for him to take him to the Ashaig airfield as they had planned the night before.

They drove solemnly through the dark road until they reached Ashaig. At the airstrip, a helicopter whirred, waiting to fly him out of the Isle of Skye.

"Theodore," he said, before the butler could leave. "Wait." He reached for his wallet and pulled out a credit card. He handed it over to him. "I forgot to give this to Emma. Tell her she can use it however she pleases. It's unlimited."

Theodore looked at it hesitantly and then took it. He nodded and placed it into his pocket.

"Thanks, Theodore," said Chris.

Theodore sullenly watched his young master, step inside the helicopter and fly into the twilight of the morning sky.

Chris tried calling Emma for two weeks but she refused to speak to him each time. He was puzzled at first, but this gradually grew into anger. She had used him. She got what she wanted. His money. She had disconnected her mobile and there was no way in which he could personally get in touch with her.

Fuming, he called his manager. "Carl, he said, angrily into the phone. "It's me, Chris. I want you to cancel an account for me. Stop all transactions. Declare that the card's lost if you have to."

"Why?" asked Carl, anxiously. "Did you really lose the card? How much did you have on it?"

He paused. "Unlimited," he said. "Could you do me a favour and check how much is withdrawn from it?"

"Give me a second," said Carl. He pulled out the details onto his screen. "Nothing, man. It's clean, thank G.o.d." He breathed out a sigh of relief.

Chris grew quiet.

"Hey, Chris, you there?" he heard Carl say on the phone.

"Yeah," he replied slowly.

"The card's made out in your wife's name. You still want to cancel it?"F Chris paused briefly. "No. Leave it for now. I'll talk to you later."

"Hey, Chris," said Carl. "Are you going back to Skye anytime soon?"

Chris stood at his window thinking, his eyes on the tall structures grazing the LA skies. "Yes," he said.

"Do you mind getting an autograph from your wife? My girlfriend's been bugging me about it ever since she's found out you married her favourite author."

"I don't understand," said Chris, puzzled.

"Your wife, Emma Abbott is the author, Amelia Priestley. That's her pen name. Beats me how Natasha found out but she did. As far as I know, it's so hush hush, very few people know that. Did you?"

A muscle throbbed in his temples as he realised there was still a lot he didn't know about his wife. "I did," he lied. "I'll talk to you later."

He ended the call and dialled the Kinnaird Mansion.

Theodore picked it up.

"Did you give her the card, Theodore?" he asked.

"I did," he replied. "But she refused to take it. I left it in the top drawer of your bedroom dresser."

Chris paused. "How is she doing?" he asked.

Theodore was quiet and for a moment, he thought he had lost him. "Theodore?" he said into the phone.

"Yes, sir," Theodore answered, slowly. "She is doing fine. She's not here though. She's back in her house. She's been there this past week."

The conversation grew silent as both men paused.

"Mr. Cameron," said Theodore, at last. "Mr. Ethan Wells called by her home. She will be going out with him to a charity dinner tonight. So you might not be able to reach her at all today."

His heart clamped. "Perhaps, tomorrow then," said Chris.

"Tomorrow, sir," replied Theodore.

She was running. Her breath deepened as she stumbled into the dark forest. She felt the bruises on her body. She felt the hurt in her heart. She didn't know what it was, but she knew it was there following her.

She saw Robert in the distance and ran towards him. But he turned away, like he usually did in her dreams.

"Richard!" she called out, seeing him standing behind Robert. "Help me!"But the faster he ran to him, the further he moved away.

She felt her predator draw closer. Her heart raced. She held out her hand in desperation but Richard would not take it. "Please, Richard," she cried. "Help me!"

Her predator caught her arm and swung her to him.

It was then she saw his familiar, grey eyes. They were puzzled and hurt.

"It's just me," he said. "Chris."

She awoke with a start. A strange feeling of peace and contentment enveloped her. She was alone in her house. The children were still asleep in their beds at the Kinnaird Mansion. She arose from her bed and picked up her clock. She saw that it was only a few minutes past five in the morning.

The sun was still yet to fully rise in the horizon. However it's amber rays was already lighting up the twilight sky.

She pulled out a shawl and draped it over her shoulders. Outside, the morning mist was rising off the cold, Skye meadows. The wild flowers had still yet to open its petals as it waited eagerly for the warmth of the spring season to set in. She heard the calls of birds arousing each other from their sleep.

Aside from her, there was very little she saw that was awake so early. She rubbed her hands together, as she stepped out into the misty, cold morning and headed toward the Kinnaird Mansion as she had done for the past week.

The hems of her long skirt dampened while she traipsed through the meadow. She stepped over the broken fence that divided the two properties. She smiled as she walked by the tree at which she had first called Ethel by her name. Her eyes involuntary wandered to where she had seen her first Kinnaird royal deer. And there through the mist she saw him coming towards her.

She stilled, wondering if she was hallucinating from the early, cold spring morning. But when he came closer, she saw his cold breath entwining into the mist, telling her he was real. He didn't stall but kept walking closer until his hands reached for her slim waist, drawing her into his arms to kiss her. His lips crushing against hers, nipping them, his tongue thrusting deeply and fiercely into the depths of her mouth.

"I love you," he panted through his kisses.

She cupped his face as she kissed him back. His hands slid to the small of her back, pulling her tightly against him. She felt him harden against her and she flushed.

"Were you running?" she asked.

"All the way from LA," he said, smiling.

"Why did you come back?"

"I forgot to take you and Hannah on a yacht ride," he teased. He peered at her, his breath raspy against her face. "I thought I had lost you," he added seriously.

"Well, you haven't," she smiled, searching into his eyes.

"When I heard you'd gone out with Ethan Wells, I didn't know what to think..."

"Wait," she said, pulling back. "What? I didn't go out with Ethan Wells."

"But Theodore said..."

"I could never. I wouldn't touch him even if he was the last man alive. Weren't you the one to tell me to stay away from him?"

"You listened," he said.

She smiled. "What else did Theodore say?"

"That a soul recognises its mate long before the eyes does."

"He told me that too," she said softly, hypnotised as she traced his face with her fingers. "You're my Rebecca."

He leant forward and kissed her again. He picked her up into his arms and started walking down the hill.

"Where are we going?" she asked puzzled. "The mansion isn't this way."

"No," he smiled. "I'm taking you to the boathouse. It's the closest. With the way I'm feeling now, I'd be d.a.m.ned if I took you back to the mansion."

She let out a small laugh. "My house is closer, I think."

"Over that baneful fence? No way. I wouldn't risk your precious neck. Besides, someone told me that a man's efforts does something to the female hormones."

"What?" she kissed his neck.

"Not now, darling. I might not make it if you do that."

She nuzzled her nose into his neck, teasing him.

They playfully bantered with each other as they walked together to the boathouse, nestled among the fir trees along the bay.

end.