'Well, that's fine with me,' he broke in, 'so long as it isn't… anything to do with the taking off of your clothes.'

'Do you know,' she managed to say almost thoughtfully, she wasn't sure how, 'your preoccupation with that subject leads me to wonder about you, but you will really just have to accept my guarantee on the subject; I can say no more.' And she kept her gaze supremely steady as it rested on him.

'OK.' He shrugged. 'I guess if I expect you to take me on trust, I shouldn't mind doing the same.' He smiled suddenly and it was quite a devastating smile, full of life and wry humour, and with a further shaft of fear Davina realised that S. Warwick could be a devastatingly attractive man when he chose. 'Unfortunately,' he added, 'I have to go out, I have a meeting, but that might give you the opportunity to potter around by yourself and get to know the place-you have carte blanche and there's plenty of food in the kitchen to make yourself a meal. By the way, don't feel nervous; there's no crime on the island.'

'I notice you don't even lock your front door,' Davina said involuntarily.

'No. You can lock yourself in here, though, if you're

so minded.' Davina said nothing, although she still returned his gaze steadily.

'Well,' he murmured after a moment, 'goodnight, Mrs Hastings.'

'Goodnight, Mr Warwick.'

He turned to go but turned back. 'What does the D stand for?'

'Davina,' she said coolly.

'May I call you that?'

'You can call me what you like.'

'I see,' he said softly. 'I gather it would be no good offering to return the compliment?' He raised a lazy eyebrow at her.

'I don't know what you mean.'

'I mean I'm quite sure were I to ask you to call me Steve, that you would persist in addressing me as "Mr Warwick" with all the hauteur you're capable of.'

'You would be quite right, Mr Warwick.'

'I thought so. Goodnight, Davina. Sleep well.' And this time he left, closing the door gently behind him.