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that got to her? Here she was, an heiress to millions, who moved in aristocratic circles that Stratt could only dream of, with power and wealth and social standing. And then there was Stratt, a lowly game-ranger who had a way with words which made her feel so insignificant, as if all of it did not matter to him: who she was or where she came from. No one had ever made her feel like that before. It was disturbing and unsettling.
     
        She shrieked as she sank into the hot Jacuzzi bath, not realising how painful it would be to cover her crimson, sunburned limbs with hot water. But the longer she remained submerged, teeth gritted, the more bearable the pain became. When she emerged from the tub, half an hour later, and gazed at her naked figure in the full length mirror, she was amazed to see how her lily-white limbs had metamorphosed into a deep, painful scarlet. She wrapped a towel around her dripping wet hair, and donned a soft cheesecloth creation, which hung loosely on her burning shoulders. She hated to admit that Stratt had, once again, been right.
     
                                                               *
     
       There was a knock on her door. Probably the white wine spritzer she had ordered from room service. When she opened the door slightly, Stratt stood there, obviously freshly showered in clean denims and an emerald green golf shirt bearing the lodge logo on the chest pocket. He carried a silver tray with her drink on it.
     
    “I suppose you came for your shirt,” Shilo said meekly.
     
    “No, I brought you your drink … and I also brought you this,” he said, holding up a brown paper packet. “May I come in?” He need not have asked as he was already pushing past her into the room. “I hope you don’t think I’m being too forward,” he said, “but you need some urgent pharmaceutical attention.” He placed the drink on the night table and then withdrew two bottles from the bag. “These are called Macrosun,” he said pointing to the small, brown bottle, “they are to help with the pain of the sunburn and to reduce some of the symptoms of possible sun stroke. Take two now and two tonight before you go to bed, and then follow the instructions on the bottle. And this…” he continued, “will have immediate effect. Sit down.”
     
       She could not believe his audacity at the instruction and looked at him suspiciously, not knowing what to do or what his intentions were. She sat on the bed again. She watched in the mirror as he climbed on the bed and knelt directly behind her. She could sense the closeness of his hulk of a body. He took a dollop of the transparent blue gel in one hand, and lowered the straps of her dress off her shoulders with the other. He spread the cream on her shoulders and upper arms with amazingly gentle fingers. She was astounded at how such a huge, rough man, with such gigantic, unrefined hands, could be so gentle. His fingers caressed her tender skin as the ice-cold gel soaked in.
     
    “This is getting in the way,” he said, as he took the towel turban off her head, allowing her wet tresses to fall down her back.
     
      Then he moved closer until she could feel him pressing against her back, and she could feel his warm breath on her hair, could smell the same masculine cologne she had smelled on his shirt, as he bent towards her and as he slid his hands down to the bottom of her arms. He then massaged her neck and moved his hands around to massage her burnt chest area. Her hands came up instinctively and touched his as if to stop their progress, but dropped again. It was so soothing … and she hated to admit it… terribly erotic. His fingers swept the top of the rise of her breasts and her heart was pounding as her eyes met his momentarily in the mirror. She realised he had been watching her reactions all along. She blushed. Thank God it could not be seen through the sunburn.
     
    “Right,” he