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“I’m sorry to break this up so early, but I’m fading fast.”

“I’m going to be right behind you,” Cleo told her.

“Owen, do you know what room you want?”

“I’ll crash in the one I had last time. I have to head out early, so thanks again if I don’t see you.”

Sonya caught the look that passed between the two men, and sighed.

“I don’t give a damn about the mirror tonight. I’m going to sleep.”

“We could all use it.” Cleo covered the rest of the pie. “I’ll see whoever’s around in the morning after ten.”

They went upstairs, with the dogs following, then parted ways.

In her bedroom, Sonya let out another sigh. “This was exactly the right way to spend the evening after how we spent last night.”

“And you’re tired.” Lifting his hand, Trey laid it on her cheek.

“It’s starting to hit. Don’t let me get up and walk tonight if you can stop me.”

“Don’t worry. No walking tonight.”

Trusting him, she got ready for bed, then curled up beside him.

“I’m really glad you’re here.”

“No place I’d rather be.”

He felt her drift off within minutes, then lay listening to the manor. The sounds of settling, the rhythmic beat of the water against rock.

The sounds of murmurs and whispers that sounded like voices lost in the wind.

His dog and hers slept quiet, and after a time, so did he.

But he woke when the clock chimed three. She stirred against him, muttered in her sleep, then lay quiet again.

While she slept, he listened to the drift of piano music, the heartbreak of weeping, the creak of a door, the rattle of a window.

He heard something, a call or a cry from outside, over the sound of the sea. Quietly, he slipped out of bed, walked to the terrace doors, eased his way out.

And he saw the figure in black standing on the seawall. Saw her dark hair fly in a wind he couldn’t feel.

She threw her hands up to a moon that hadn’t been full when they’d walked the dogs.

When she leapt, her black dress billowing, his heart jolted.

The wind died, and the moon sailed as a crescent.

He stepped back in, closed the doors. When he got back into bed, the house lay quiet again.

Sonya woke alone. No Trey, no dogs. Thinking that was too damn bad, she sat up. She not only wasn’t tired after the solid night’s sleep, she’d have enjoyed sliding into a little wake-up sex.

Barely seven, she realized. And here she considered herself an early riser.

She took a moment to stand by the windows, looking out at the sun, the sea, all gold and blue. A fishing boat, white and red, glided by on its morning business, and a scatter of gulls winged by on theirs.

“This feels a lot better than yesterday morning, and so do I.”