marvelled at the shimmering reflection of Trinity Church in the soaring glass of Hancock Tower, visited the Omni Theater at the Museum of Science and ate lunch in bustling Quincy Market.
With the unspoken knowledge that time was running out, they packed as much into their days as possible, and each night—after Raine had gone to bed and Nick had retired to his study to catch up on some work—the two brothers sat talking until the early hours of the morning.
One night, leaving the older men to their endless reminiscing, Nick followed Raine up the elegant staircase.
Talking casually, they paused by her bedroom door. She was smiling at something he’d said, when suddenly he bent and kissed her gently—then not gently at all.
The universe exploded in a flash of fire that was followed by a darkness like folds of thick black velvet.
When his lips had reluctantly freed themselves, he said huskily, ‘Goodnight, Raine. Sleep well.’
Closing the door of her room behind her, she leaned weakly against the panels and knew that her life would never be the same again.
That night she dreamt of white lace and orange blossom, of rice and rose petals and stained-glass windows, of living happily ever afterwards...
Next day, not being one to wear her heart on her sleeve, she did her best to maintain her usual veneer of composure. But Raine—cool, self-contained, sensible Raine—was head over heels in love, and happiness and excitement fizzed and bubbled inside her like champagne.
When, after a morning walk on the common, the four returned to Mecklenburg Place, Mrs Espling, the housekeeper, had a message from Nick’s secretary. Some business had cropped up that demanded his attention.
That evening, returning from the office in time to have a meal with them, Nick seemed unusually quiet and thoughtful.
While the two older men talked, Nick ate in silence. Raine watched him surreptitiously from beneath long lashes.
She was studying the planes and angles of that hard, lean face, the wide, mobile mouth, the strong nose and the well-marked brows, several shades darker than the thick blond hair, when he looked up and saw her.
Afraid the longing she felt was only too visible, she flushed scarlet and bent her head, allowing her black silky hair to partially curtain her face.
‘I have to go up to Maine tomorrow,’ Nick remarked during a lull in the conversation.’
‘Maine?’ Ralph raised an eyebrow.
Harry answered. ‘Donkey’s years ago I bought a lumber company and several paper mills up there. Nick takes time from his own business affairs to look after them for me.’
Nick smiled. ‘An occasional trip to Maine is no hardship. It’s a wild, beautiful state, well worth a visit. How about if we all go?’
Harry shook his head. ‘I’m afraid you’ll have to count me out.’
‘What’s it like?’ Ralph asked his nephew.
‘Lakes, mountains, a spectacular rocky coastline with hundreds of small islands, charming little towns, white clapboard churches, quaint fishing villages, hidden harbours and colourful lighthouses... A lot of the sparse population live near the coast and make their living from the sea.
‘Northeast, towards Canada, is the Allagash—a wilderness of forests and swamps and waterways, where most of the logging is done.’
‘Sounds marvellous,’ Ralph said, ‘but I think I’ll stick with Boston.’
‘Why don’t you two young ones go?’ Harry suggested.
‘How about it, Raine?’ Midnight-blue eyes caught and held green:
A trip alone with Nick would be as exhilarating as jumping out of a plane at thirty thousand feet without a parachute—and as dangerous.
‘I’d love to,’ she said, and if he noticed the quiver in her voice, hopefully he would put it down to excitement.
The next day they caught an early flight up to Bangor. Then Nick, piloting the company’s small plane, which had been specially fitted with dual landing gear—wheels and floats—and extra fuel tanks, took them to the Maine wilderness.
They were to visit the site offices of the lumber company, and landed on a graded road, following a huge truck piled high with massive tree trunks held in place by chains.
Seeing that Raine was startled, Nick told her, ‘There are no airstrips out here. Either we land on water, or on one of these logging roads that belong to the company.’
He steered the plane over uneven ground and they bumped through enormous wire mesh gates and into a kind of compound, where there were several long prefabricated buildings.
Climbing the steps to what was obviously the office block, they were greeted by a short, plump, balding man, wearing a hairy checked shirt and rimless glasses. Nick addressed him as Elmo.
Raine was ushered to a hard wooden chair and plied with strong black coffee and thick slices of cake while Nick sorted out the problem that had taken him there.
Business completed, he returned to say casually, ‘We have a log cabin over at Owl Creek. Would you like to stay there for a few days and see something of the backwoods? Or would you prefer to go somewhere more civilised? ’
Without hesitation, she burnt her bridges. ‘Oh, stay at Owl Creek.’
They flew over forests of spruce, fir, pine and birch, interlaced with gleaming waterways, and landed on the mirror-like surface of Owl Lake, disturbing its evening cloud reflections.
Ringed by hills clothed in the scarlet and gold, green and bronze of ash and maple, tamarack and cedar, it was the most beautiful place Raine had ever seen.
The substantially built, single-storey log cabin was on the lakeshore about half a mile from Owl Creek. Set well back from the water, it was in the centre of a wide clearing and raised on piles, with an open veranda running along three sides and a screened porch.
Nick opened the heavy door, and, having stooped to put a match to the stove, left her to look around while he brought their luggage from the plane.
The kitchenette was fairly basic. Apart from a sink and an old-fashioned hand-operated washing machine, it had a gas cooker, which was connected, and a gas fridge, which wasn’t. But the larder was stocked with all manner of dried and tinned goods, including tins of butter and malted brown bread.
Beyond the kitchenette was a small, separate bedroom and next to that a bathroom—luxurious, Raine guessed, by backwoods standards—with a porcelain sink and bath, a shower cabinet and a flush toilet.
But most of the space was taken up by a large, attractive, open-plan room on split levels.
The living area was simply furnished with two long bookcases, a coffee-table and a comfortable black leather suite. There were boldly patterned cushions and curtains, and matching Aztec-type mats were scattered on the polished wooden floor.
