The first thing I feel is a burning pain on my legs. It is excruciating, and I wonder whether I’ve somehow fallen asleep with my legs in the sun. Then I remember the coffee pot smashing on the floor, and the man sitting in my kitchen. I peer out of my lashes, my heart thundering in my chest with fear, and with something else that I don’t really want to acknowledge. The man is bent over, cleaning up the broken coffee pot and mug. I sit up, figuring that a mass-murderer wouldn’t bother cleaning. He seems to hear me move, even though I am being as quiet as possible.

“Hello again, Accacia,” he says.

I swallow, my mouth suddenly dry. “Who are you?” I ask. “And how did you get in my house?”

The man smiles and his whole face changes. The brooding darkness of last night is gone, replaced instead with a sudden warmth. “My name is Rhain. It is very much my pleasure to meet you.”

“Rhain? As in sky and thunder…” I ramble.

He grins. “Yes, I suppose so.” He notices me wince at the pain from the burn. “We need to fix that,” he says, pointing to my legs.

“I’ll be ok,” I say, not sure how to explain to this stranger that I will heal, eventually.

“I insist,” he says, grabbing a tea-towel and saturating it with water at the sink. He approaches me, his gaze moving from my face to my legs. His eyes linger slightly at the gap in my robe, and I realise I am almost indecently exposing myself to him. My cheeks redden; unlike the dream last night I’m not a natural exhibitionist and I pull the robe together over my chest. Thank god it was only a dream, imagine the embarrassment, not to mention the stupidity. He could be a rapist or a murderer for all I know. Which leads to my next question.

“What did you do to Roland?” I ask, suddenly feeling afraid of his proximity and his answer.

He sits on the coffee table and shrugs off his dark leather jacket, revealing the firm muscle of his arms. A strange tattoo swirls down his left arm in an intricate Celtic design. I can just about see another similar looking tattoo poking out of the top of his shirt and I wonder whether the tattoo on his arm meets the one on his neck. Suddenly, all thoughts of Roland go out of my head. I realise that I should be very afraid but I’m not, and that worries me more than anything else.

Rhain picks up the wet towel and lays it gently over the bottom half of both my legs. The cool of the water eases the pain somewhat. It’ll be a few hours before the burns will have completely healed and a lot of agony until then. I’m used to it by now.

“That better?” he asks, concern furrowing his brow.

“Yes, thank you,” I say. I don’t understand what is going on and frankly have no idea why I feel so safe in his presence. It’s ridiculous.

He looks at me, sensing my displeasure, and swipes a hand through his hair. “That man, he wanted to hurt you.” His eyes darken at the memory. “He would have, if I hadn’t stopped him.”

I see the way his hands grip the table. “I know that,” I say. “And I appreciate you helping me, but when I left I saw you with your hands around his throat…”

“He got what was coming to him. You need not worry about that rat anymore,” he spat, the sapphire of his eyes darkening.

A shudder runs through me. “What did you do to him?”

Rhain picks up my hand. His touch is incredibly gentle for someone who just looked like he could tear a man to pieces. As much as I detest Roland, I don’t wish him harm, or at least in the cool light of day I don’t. Last night, maybe, was a different story.

“You need not be afraid of me, Cia. I would never hurt you,” he says.

“Cia?” I say.

“Do you not like it? Accacia is quite the mouthful,” he says, winking.

“Parts of me are, yes…” I say, my mouth running away with me.

He grins, his eyes flashing as they lower to my chest. “Yes, I noticed that,” he says.

I pull my hand from his grasp. What the hell is wrong with me? Here I am, flirting with a stranger who has practically confessed to murdering Roland. Well, possibly not murder, but at least GBH.

“Roland is not dead, if that’s what you’re worried about. Although he deserves no less,” he says as though plucking those thoughts from my head. “I taught him a lesson about the correct way to treat a lady. He won’t be hurting anyone again.”

“But I work with him. If they find out you hurt him, and that I know you, we could be in trouble with the police. I could lose my job, and that can’t happen,” I say, my voice rising with anxiety.

“Hush, Cia. Nothing bad is going to happen…” But he checks himself, as though that isn’t strictly true. I open my mouth to speak but he changes the subject. “The police? What are they exactly?”

I frown. “Are you being funny with me? The law enforcement, the people who can put you in prison for doing whatever it is you did to Roland.”

Rhain laughs. “Where I come from, Roland would have been strung up and flogged for his actions. He got off lightly. Besides, I am not afraid of these police.”

“I hope you’re joking?” I say, then realise he isn’t when he shrugs his shoulders. Who the hell is this man, and more to the point what country does he live in? Somewhere backwards if they allow public flogging. My head spins with the possibility.

“Look,” Rhain sighs. “Roland will wake up in a few days with a sore head, a few bruises and a better attitude towards women. You have no need to worry about anything, Cia.”

“You sound pretty confident about his change in personality. I’m not sure he’s capable of being any different.”

“I can be very persuasive,” he says, a slow smile spreading across his face.

“Hmm,” I say, not entirely sure how to respond to that.

We sit quietly for a moment. The burning on my legs is easing far quicker than I expected. Perhaps a scald from hot coffee heals faster than a burn from the sun? Either way, I’m glad. I am beginning to think I’ll be stuck on this sofa for longer than I want to be. Especially when there is a hot stranger making himself comfortable in my home. If I have to get away quick, I would need a pair of legs that worked.

Rhain settles back on the sofa opposite me. I can feel his stare trailing over my face, and I have no idea what to say or do. The fact that he is still sitting in my home and not explaining who the hell he is other than, apparently, my knight in shining armour is a little disconcerting.

He coughs, and I see the hint of a smile at the corner of his mouth. “I have two brothers,” he begins. “Well, they are not blood brothers exactly, although they may as well be. They are my brothers-in-arms.”

“As in the army?”

“Of sorts, yes. We have known each other for many, many years. Fought beside each other, have each other’s backs. They are my brothers in every way. They have their… quirks, but they are good men.”

“What are their names?”

“Devin and Ezra.”

“I’ve never heard names like that before. Where do you live exactly? They don’t sound very English.” Living along the Kent coast, you don’t really get to hear names like that very often.

“We live somewhere far away.” He looks nervous suddenly.

“Where? Like Europe, Asia? You sound English, although your accent is a little strange.”

“No, none of those places,” he says, fiddling with something in his hand. It looks like a jewel, a red jewel. My eyes widen. Is that a ruby? It can’t possibly be, I mean a stone that size would be worth thousands of pounds, more probably. His fingers curl around the stone and he slides it into his pocket.

“Rhain, can you tell me why you were there last night? I’m grateful for what you did, but how did you come to be there? The parking lot was empty…”

I notice how his eyes glance at my hands, honing in on the ring that had suddenly appeared on my finger last night. “Is this something to do with you?” I ask, holding my hand up. I swing my legs down and turn to face him. The cloth falls from my now healed skin. I hear him gasp as I stand, planting my hands on my hips. “Well?” I demand.

I don’t know who’s more shocked; me, for being so rude to this mysterious man, or Rhain because of the healed skin on my legs.