Little does Gemma know that the identity of the enigmatic mystery man who rescues her in a hurricane will only be revealed in very different circumstances after her desperate dash to her ailing uncle's bedside. Her life changes dramatically when she finds herself in constant conflict with wealthy Stefan who plays a pivotal part in her future.
In the twists and turns, her heart proves less simple to manage than her new business venture. The glorious English countryside of Northumberland with its castles, ancient ruins and cascading rivers sets the scene for the unexpected events that lead to her ultimate happiness.
Gemma's slim frame hunched tensely over the Honda motorbike as it jolted through the stormy January night. Behind her
visor the dark violet of her eyes dilated involuntarily as lightning streaked across the sky to light up the signpost - Fenwick 4 miles. Her stomach
tightened with fear as she swung onto the narrow loop road. The bike's wheels hissed along the wet surface; a flurry of hailstones bounced off the crash
helmet that hid her chestnut curls.
Storms and disaster seemed to be inextricably linked ever since those seven years ago, just after she'd turned eighteen, when just such a storm orphaned her when her parents small rowing boat capsized on Lake Windermere. Then the devastation of loss was softened by Uncle Arthur's gruff but kindly support. Who'd have guessed that a crusty bachelor founder of a salmon canning business empire was capable of such unobtrusive help? Now Uncle was fighting for his life in the intensive care unit of the infirmary. She accelerated and let rip. It was a race against time - mercifully masking the all too scary thought that, once again, she could be left all alone.
As trees creaked ominously, Gemmas black-gloved hands instinctively hardened their grip on the handlebars. She checked the wing mirror and frowned. That car tailgating her was the same 4x4 she'd seen parked in the lay-by at the crossroads. Her teeth began to chatter under the drenched black leather biking jacket, the dampness leaking through her tee shirt to her very bones. Suddenly she registered the intermittent on-off, on-off flash of the vehicles white headlights. Damn you, she muttered, bikes have every right to be on the road. She killed her speed and it followed suit silently, menacingly, signalling impatiently with its naked beam as it had done for more than half a mile. Read more of this chapter