LONDON 1946 - Terror jolted Sarah Richards out of her nightmare. Her screams awoke Brant Wilder, her lover, whose naked body entwined with hers beneath the sheet.

Sarah’s heart thumped. She was trembling.

Her fair skin was cold. Brant comforted her, ‘Ssh…ssh my darling…it’s all right, you’ve had a bad dream…ssh…it’ll soon fade away into nothing.

’ He warmed her with his body heat. With gentleness, he blew his hot breath in her ear, then brushed his lips across her cheek to her mouth, where he shushed her with kisses so passionate her legs opened to him.

The way her gorgeous body yielded to his touch never failed to turn him on. He moved himself into her, and once more they became lost in their lust for each other.

Brant felt he could never have enough of Sarah. To him, she was an enigma – a smouldering tigress hidden inside the exterior of the well-bred English rose.

He had overmastered her innocence only days after her father had brought him to the house on business. As the lovers lay in each other’s arms, they shared a cigarette.

Both were silent. Sarah pictured Brant declaring his was true love, Brant, not wanting to sound passé, was trying to rephrase the will you marry me line.

He had decided to give up being a bachelor, because her father was very wealthy. Sarah being a beauty was an added bonus.

Brant could find no reason why her father would deny him Sarah’s hand in marriage. He got along well with the old man.

Brant was the best oil prospector in the field. Over the past ten years, he had brought old man Richards in millions from countries others had overlooked.

Richards should think himself lucky getting him for a son-in-law. .