‘That’s a lot of wow.’ Celia chuckled. ‘Tell me about him.’

‘He’s tall and dark with deep blue eyes. Probably late thirties, black hair, waves a bit. I like the way he moves-sort of easy and graceful-and he knows how to wear an expensive suit.’

‘You’ve priced his suit?’ Celia’d demanded, amused.

‘I’ve seen it on sale and it costs a fortune. In fact, from the way it fits, I’ll bet he had it specially made for him. He’s got that sort of something about him. An “air”-like the world is his, he’ll take it when it suits him, and in the meantime it can wait until he is ready.’

‘You’re really studying the subject, aren’t you?’ Celia’d said, chuckling.

‘Naturally I want to give you an accurate description. Oh, yes, and he’s got a brooding look that you only see in film stars-Oh, gosh, I forgot you haven’t seen any film stars. I’m really sorry.’

‘Don’t apologise,’ Celia’d said warmly. ‘I work hard to make people forget that I can’t see. You just told me I’ve succeeded. But I’ve always been blind, so I can’t imagine anything. I don’t know what colours look like, or shapes and sizes. I have to discover them by touch.’

‘Well, his shape and size would really be worth discovering by touch,’ Sally’d said frankly, and Celia’d burst into a peal of laughter.

‘He’s looking this way,’ Sally’d hissed. ‘Now he’s coming over.’

Next thing Celia heard a quiet, deep voice with the hint of an Italian accent. ‘Good morning. My name is Francesco Rinucci. I’m looking for Celia Ryland.’

The moment she heard his voice she could ‘see’ him-not in the kind of detail Sally had explained, but in her own way. Easy and graceful, an air as though the world was his; those she had understood at once.

Now, making her way through the water and remembering, she thought that the world really had been his. And when she was in his arms, the world had been hers.

But that had been five months ago. In five short months she’d loved him passionately, fought with him furiously, and learned that she must escape him at all costs.