Dragon Bay by Violet Winspear

of it,’ Kara smiled. ‘It stands out against the blue sky like a feudal stronghold—it even has a ghost.’ His smile was a sideways pull of his bold, hard lips. ‘A lady dressed in gold, who steps out of a painted window above the stairs. She died tragically in a fire at the old sugar mill, where she was said to meet her lover.’ ‘How fascinating.’ Kara’s gaze fell away from his and she sipped at her jasmine tea, aware of the quickening of her pulses, of the magnetism this man could exert when he was in the mood. ‘You must love your home very much,’ she murmured. ‘Can a man without a heart love anything?’ She glanced up, into eyes that were as cool and still as sea-water that holds unimaginable depths and danger. ‘It’s a mistake to think that we know anyone,’ she said, ‘and a presumption to pass judgment on an acquaintance of only a few hours. You must forgive my Greek impetuosity, Mr. Savidge.’ ‘Are you often impetuous?’ He signalled their waiter as he spoke, and she assumed that he was about to settle the bill and announce that their farewell dinner was over. ‘I sometimes do things that I don’t stop to think about,’ she admitted. ‘It is in the Stephanos blood—my father married my mother after knowing her only ten days. She was English, but I am mostly Greek.’ Lucan Savidge ran his green eyes over Kara’s long dark hair, pale gold skin, and tiny rings in the lobes of her ears. ‘When the waiter brings our liqueur,’ he said, ‘he will also bring the fortune cards. The Chinese are gre