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lighter handy. A faint
tch
of annoyance escaped her lips.
    ‘
Permita me señorita
.’
    Alexandra had scarcely time to register the quiet words spoken unexpectedly, close to her ear, before the stranger’s brown hand had flicked a gold lighter in front of her, bringing to life a tiny blue flame and at the same time brushing against her arm.
    The spark that went through her at the Spaniard’s touch made Alexandra shudder and, emitting a slight gasp, she instinctively drew back in the first instance. But then, as she realized he was only trying to be helpful, she raised her face, smiling as readily and uninhibitedly as she always did.
    ‘
Gracias, muchas gracias
.’
    There was utter silence in the church. The man did not smile but merely inclined his head, leaving Alexandra, as he had earlier on, with the impression that inbred courtesy had prompted him to lend his assistance, rather than the more usual reasons men found for helping her. Still, her green gaze met his. She was struck by the expression of sadness reflected in his arresting grey irises and the sternness of his hard, regular features.
    An almost visible current leapt between them. For a split second, the determined line of his jaw stiffened, his well-defined lips parted and she thought he might speak. Her heart missed a beat, but someone was coming. The interlude was over; the spell had been broken.
    A beautiful young woman with a mane of flame-red hair cascading down her back was making her way towards him, holding two large candles.
    With a tightening in her heart that she couldn’t explain Alexandra nodded her thanks again and withdrew to take a seat in one of the pews at the back of the church.
    The Spanish lady smiled at the stranger as she came up to him, lit her candles from the ones that Alexandra had just placed in front of the altar and, taking the man’s arm in a proprietorial way, walked with him out of the church.
    While his companion had been lighting her candles, Alexandra had had plenty of time to scrutinize the man. He wasn’t particularlyyoung — in his early to mid-thirties, she guessed — but he had an aggressively male attractiveness to him. He was tall — very tall by Spanish standards, definitely over six foot, she judged — with a powerful, broad-shouldered frame, honed to hard-muscled perfection. This, together with his copper-brown face, suggested someone who was used to an active outdoor life, although the immaculate white shirt he wore, the well-cut dark suit that moulded itself to his form, and the gold watch that she had noticed he sported on his wrist all made it clear that he was a man of standing.
    Speculating on his relationship with the stunning redhead was difficult, for Alexandra hadn’t noticed any rings on either of his hands, and yet the way they had walked out of the church suggested an intimate involvement.
    Having ended their visit, the small party of tourists now returned to the nave and moved towards the exit. Alexandra’s gaze followed them. She hung back a few more minutes in the chapel, prey to a curious inner turmoil. There was an unknown danger about the stranger that she felt keenly, yet could not define. Who was he, and why had she been troubled so by their brief exchange? Alexandra glanced at her watch: the bus would soon be leaving. How had she lost track of the time so easily?
    Already the evening congregation was crowding into the church. The garden, earlier deserted, was now brought to life by clusters of people, talking and laughing. Suddenly, Alexandra noticed the stranger’s tall, distinguished figure among the chattering groups. He was standing beside the gate, still in the company of the beautiful woman. In the daylight, Alexandra noticed that she wore a pale-green frilled muslin dress, a velvet cape of a deeper green, and white kid gloves. The woman laughed noisily, tossing back her graceful tresses of flame-coloured hair, on which was placed the most exquisite black lace mantilla.
    The