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through the wardrobes and drawers and even the airing cupboard, her frustration growing. She pushed her hair behind her ears and cried out, whirling around as the kitchen door slammed open and footsteps hurtled up the stairs. He was fast, she’d grant him that.
    Luke ran into the room. “Sara? What’s wrong?”
    “There are no more sheets, pillows or duvets. All we have is what is on the bed in the main bedroom.”
    “Is that such a problem?”
    Sara’s eyes widened in sheer horror. “Excuse me? Wife in name only, thank you, very much.”
    Luke held her gaze. “If you let me finish, it’s only for the one night. All I was going to suggest was I’ll sleep in one of the other rooms. I’ll make do tonight and get more bedding tomorrow.”
    “You would have thought they would have provided enough to start with.”
    “Mrs. McArthur doesn’t know the truth. She thinks you’re my wife. Why would we want separate beds?”
    Sara shook her head and refused to give him an answer. Turning her back on him, she headed downstairs to tackle the dishes. As she washed up, she made a point of yawning, a lot. Drying her hands, she yawned again. “I’m going to bed. Goodnight, Leftenant.”
    “Goodnight, Sara.”
    She picked her case up from the hall and carried it to the foot of the stairs.
    “Do you want a hand?”
    Sara glanced back at him. If he knew about the baby, he’d insist, but he didn’t, and that was the way it would stay. “No, thanks, I can manage. Just because I’m female, it doesn’t mean I’m too weak to carry my own case up a few stairs.”
    Luke threw his hands up. “You know what, fine. I’m too tired to argue tonight.”
    He grabbed his bags and following her up the stairs, carried them to the other bedroom.
    Sara locked herself in the bathroom and had a long hot bath before returning to her room. The door to the leftenant’s room was ajar. She glanced in. He lay on the bed, using his bag as a pillow and his coat as a quilt, his Bible open in his hands.
    Sara felt a stab of guilt, and tapped on the door. “Leftenant?”
    Luke glanced up. Were his lips blue with cold or was it the light? “I thought I said to call me Luke.”
    “This is silly. You can’t sleep like that. You’ll freeze.”
    “I’ll be fine.”
    Sara took a deep breath. She may not like the set up, but he wasn’t going to get sick on her account. “Look. It’s only for the one night, right? My bed has a top sheet and a duvet—quilt. If I sleep under the sheet, and you sleep on top of it, you can share the duvet.”
    “Thank you.” Luke got up and followed her through to her room. “Which side of the bed do you want?”
    “I sleep on the right.” Sara stood to one side, clutching her dressing down around her.
    Luke smiled and turned his back. “You’re safe with me, Sara. I promise I won’t look.”
    She hung her dressing gown over the chair, and dived into bed, pulling the duvet up to her chin. “All right.”
    She felt the bed give as Luke sat down and pulled off his socks. It gave more as he got in, taking care to lie on top of the sheet. She shivered, aware of his presence and the memories of having a male body that close to her evoked. She turned off the light. “Night, Leftenant.”
    “Night, Sara.” He turned onto his side. It wasn’t long before his deep, regular breathing indicated he was asleep.
    Sara lay there, not wanting to sleep. She’d never forget the night that brutal man pulled the trigger and ended her chance at happiness. She didn’t need to see it in her dreams as well.

     
     
     
     

5
     
    Sara woke, screaming, tears pouring down her face. She rolled off the bed and sat on the floor, her arms wrapped around her knees. There’d been a knife, Jamie falling onto the cold, hard, unforgiving pavement, the gunman’s face as he aimed at her, and fired. Huge sobs shook her.
    The light flicked on. The bed creaked as Luke flipped over. His face peered over the side of the bed at her. “Sara,