Vivid dreams plagued Megan’s sleep and she sat up in bed, her breath coming in short gasps. It was pitch dark and she was wide-awake. Images of bare-chested sweaty rock stars with black curly hair, on stage in tight leather pants and belting out loud music, had woken her and she’d lain there with her eyes open for a moment before she sat up, and then she realised that real music was actually pounding through the darkness from the house next door.

She’d thumped her pillow and put her head beneath the blankets but now her mind turned to worry about the appeal. Being out of contact was absolutely frustrating and she lay there wondering whether she should go home a bit earlier than she’d originally planned. Was there even any point continuing her research? Control of her life seemed to be slipping through her fingers.

Chances were there’d be no job to go back to, anyway. Maybe she could spend the rest of her life in this pretty cottage. Not such a bad alternative.

The music drifted in from next door and Megan closed her eyes as Davy Morgan’s voice came across to her in the still of the night. She closed her eyes and let the music wash over her. Tears rolled down her cheeks. It was one of his sad love songs that she’d always loved.

“I’ll love you wherever you are, whenever you are.”

The ability of music to change moods and to promote well-being in its listeners had fascinated her since she’d first listened to those Davy Morgan songs in her teens, and that had been the catalyst for her study of music. Now it was flowing through her like a drug and she embraced the high. She had to put the fiasco at home out of her mind and make the most of being here at Glastonbury. The opportunity to enrich her sociology of music thesis was something she needed to embrace. Her throat closed as the music swelled to a crescendo and she drew a deep breath as euphoria flooded through her.

No matter what was happening at home, and what went down with her job at the university, she was here because of her love for the music and the innate desire to find out more about the seventies and the festivals. If it didn’t end up contributing to her doctorate, did it really matter? The knowledge and the music filled an empty place within her soul.

Music had the ability to take over her soul and fill her with love. It completed her, and made everything seem worthwhile.

Suddenly, the music stopped before reaching the final riff, and she felt cheated. But when it went back to the beginning and started again, Megan smiled.

Just the same as she’d played that song over and over when she was a teenager.

She lay back and waited for it to get to the end again, but it chopped off before the final rise. By the time he had played the song and stopped it eight or more times, frustration filled her.

No wonder David Morgan didn’t want neighbours if he was going to play his uncle’s music at full volume. The song stopped and started jerkily; sometimes halfway through lines, before going back to the beginning of the song. It went on for an hour or more. After another ten stops and starts, Megan put the pillow over her head and burrowed into the soft mattress.

Why the hell was he playing it like that?

She couldn’t stand it. He was ruining the music she loved.

##

The next thing Megan knew there was pounding on the door downstairs and she opened her eyes to bright sunshine.

She’d overslept. Jumping out of bed, she grabbed a loose T-shirt and threw it on and pulled it down over her legs before running down the stairs and opening the door. She peered through the narrow opening as her fingers clutched the door.

David was leaning against the post on the small porch.

“So I was just checking. You’ve changed your mind about coming to Taunton?” He didn’t smile and she got the impression he was hoping she’d agree with his assumption.

“No, I slept in.” She glared at him. “You playing your uncle’s music at full volume kept me awake most of the night.”

That got a strange look out of him, before he glanced at his watch. “So how long till you can be ready?”

“Five minutes. I’ve still got no water for a shower, so I’ll just get dressed. I can grab a coffee in…where are we going?”

“Taunton.”

The water delivery promised by the crazy purple-clad lady in the village store hadn’t arrived, so Megan made do with a quick wash with a flick of water out of the last of her drinking water. She was in dire need of a shower and a hair wash after the long flight and twenty-four hours in the cottage. She pulled her hair up and wound it into a knot on the back of her head before slipping on a clean pair of jeans and a loose cotton shirt. A good spray of perfume and she flew down the stairs. At least clean clothes made her feel a bit more respectable.

“Are you sure you don’t know any plumbers?”

David shook his head as he opened the door of an old sporty vehicle of some type. It looked like one of those cars in the Austin Powers movies she loved. It was a bright-red convertible and the top was down.

“Never needed one in my cottage. Sorry,” he said.

“Wow, I feel like I’m back in the sixties,” she exclaimed. “What is this?”

“1966 Austin Healey 3000.”

“Is this like the one out of that Austin Powers movie?”

“No that was an E-Type Jaguar…the Shaguar…remember?” He looked across and for the first time a glimmer of a smile crossed his face. “You probably think that’s more suitable for a rock star?”

“Are you a rock star, David?” She looked at him curiously. “I don’t mean to be rude, but I’ve never heard of you. What’s your band called?”

The resemblance to his uncle was amazing. Every time she glanced across at him, she wanted to giggle like a silly teenager. It would be interesting to hear him perform at the festival. From what he had been playing last night, it seemed like he did covers of his uncle’s songs.

As soon as they got back from town she was going to walk across the fields and listen to the rehearsal. She’d made sure she’d gotten a ticket that gave her access to the farm before the festival kicked off. No matter what the crazy hippie shopkeeper had said about magnetics and ley lines. Megan shook her head; she felt like she’d stumbled into an alternative world. It would be a great opportunity to interview singers and roadies before the festival proper began.

David put the car into gear and roared up the narrow road without answering her question about his band. Megan grabbed for her hair as the wind caught it and it flew around her face.

“So do you want me to find you a plumber?” he asked, changing the subject.

“If you could, that would be great.”

“First off, I’ll come over and have a look when we get back.” His brow furrowed. “Look, I don’t want to rush you but we can only stay an hour or so in Taunton. I’ll drop you off at a café and you can get your caffeine hit and check your e-mail at the same time.”

“That’ll be long enough. I just need to see what’s happening at home.” She let out her breath in a sigh and he looked across at her.

“Problems?” he said.

“A problem at work. If it’s not sorted, I’ll have no job to go back to.”

“What do you do?”

He actually sounded interested so she gave him the short version of her career. He didn’t need to know all the details. “I do some lecturing and tutoring in the sociology of music while I’m working on my PhD. It was actually your Uncle Davy who fostered my love of seventies music.”

He glanced across at her as he changed a gear and the car took off down a narrow hill. “Hmm. Interesting.”

All was quiet until they drove into a medium-sized town and David dropped her off on the main street.

“There’s a café that should have computers about halfway along. I’ll pick you up here in an hour. Okay?” he asked.

“What about an electrical store? I need an adapter.”

He pointed one out across from the café. Megan grabbed her bag and climbed out of the car, taking note of the cafe name so she didn’t get lost.

***

It only took five minutes for David to meet with the bank manager and sign the transfer for it to be couriered back to Clive at his bank in London. The royalties from his music were still providing him with a luxurious lifestyle in the twenty-first century and enabled him to split his time between Glastonbury and his island in the Bahamas.

He wandered along the main street, which was lined with a mixture of old buildings from previous centuries and modern glass-and-concrete structures. Glancing at his watch, he turned into the courtyard of the Castle Hotel, where he knew he could get a quick coffee in the BRAZZ brasserie beneath the imposing four-story structure.

He loved the old castle, and he’d stayed there a few times before he’d bought the cottage. An ancient wisteria vine with a trunk as thick as a tree rose from the walls beside the entrance and covered them with soft purple blooms. Once a Norman fortress and reconstructed in the eighteenth century, the Castle at Taunton had been welcoming travellers since the twelfth century and David idly wondered how hard it would be to find a time gate to go back and see it in its heyday.

Too risky. Alice had constantly warned him about using the ley line gates just to satisfy his curiosity about the past.

He shook his head as he sipped his coffee and pondered the problem of Megan. He’d finally found out her name before they’d started the short trip to Taunton. He’d tried to avoid her at the pub yesterday, but Bear had pushed him on. Life was complicated enough without having her next door and seeing him head for the stones every day. When she arrived at this year’s festival and he and the band weren’t playing, she was going to be asking some difficult questions.

He’d have to spin her some story about their act being canned from the current lineup to explain their nonappearance this year. But more importantly, he’d have to keep Megan away from the stones.

He could still smell her perfume from being in the car with her, despite the top being down. She must have plastered it on but he’d been relieved when her hair had been pulled back and she’d looked less like the woman he’d been dreaming about for the past two nights.

Bloody hell, I don’t need this complication.

Pushing back his chair, he stood and gestured to the bar attendant, pointing to the money he’d left on the table. The pretty girl gave him a wave and held his eye, but he had no reaction to her come-hither look. His head was full of the black-haired beauty from next door. His dreams about her had left him curiously content, but restless, and he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was going to have to do something about it. There was an inevitability about it that he was trying to deny.

Megan was waiting for him at the intersection as he’d asked. She’d wound her hair up and secured it with some sort of clip.

“Thanks for being on time,” he said as she slipped in and closed the door. Huge sunglasses covered her eyes and her lips were tight. He risked a quick glance across at her and frowned as she brushed the back of her hand across her cheek.

“You okay?” Not that he really needed to know, but sympathy settled in his gut as she drew a shaky breath and then tried to disguise it with a cough.

“Fine.” She didn’t speak again as they travelled through the outskirts of the small town. A couple of times, she brushed her hand to her eyes but said nothing.

David shrugged and focused on his driving. The small sports car ate up the miles quickly and it was less than half an hour when he turned onto the narrow unpaved lane that led down to the two cottages. As soon as he stopped the car outside her place, Megan opened the door and grabbed her bag.

“Thanks for the lift. Appreciate it.” She flicked him a quick wave as she shut the door and headed off down the path towards the front door of Violet Cottage. David put the car into gear and drove the short distance to the small barn on the other side of Rose Cottage.

***

Megan pulled the clip from her hair and ran her fingers through her loose curls before wandering through the kitchen. Casually picking up an apple from the shopping bag she’d left on the counter yesterday, and grateful for the large coffee she’d had in town, she stepped out the back door. She was still gob smacked by the e-mail from Tony. Her chest closed and she fought the rising panic as she slipped through the back door.

Documentary evidence of e-mails and finances supplied by VC was in the subject line of the email. Tony’s e-mail had been brief.

 Attached. Megan WTF is going on?

 He’d attached an audit and she’d managed to print that, and the e-mail, fold them and shove them into her pocket. The late-morning sun was still bathing the patio in sunshine and she slid onto a chair and put her head down on her crossed arms as weariness overwhelmed her. The same lethargy she’d experienced when her parents had been killed overtook her limbs and Megan blinked as her vision blurred.

Jet lag and interrupted sleep last night. That’s all it was.

She was not going to let herself sink into a depression just because some lowlife at the university had accessed her computer files. That had to be what had happened. There was no other explanation. She got a sense from the tone of Tony’s e-mail that he was beginning to doubt her innocence too. Her own brother-in-law was sceptical, so what chance did she have of proving she hadn’t done any of the things she’d been accused of? Looked more and more likely that someone had gone to great lengths to get her out of the department. Out of her job, and out of the university.

It had to be Greg; she had underestimated him and she hadn’t given him credit for his determination to get her out of her job.

He was a nut case; it hadn’t taken her long to figure that out. She’d seen the crazy side of him and had broken off their short relationship when she’d overheard him in a call to an ex-girlfriend one night. He was abusive and cruel, and she’d not been out with him again.

Squeezing her eyes shut, she pressed her fingers to her temples, trying to remember if Greg had ever had access to her password. They’d gone out for a few months and he’d suckered her right in. All he’d been after was the full time lecturer’s position, and any information that she had on the selection panel. He’d trampled all over her in the race for a promotion. And he’d worked hard to get in her bed, wining her and dining her, and taking her away for romantic weekends. She’d fallen for it hook, line and sinker, needing the comfort and attention in the months after the accident.

 She had sworn off men for life when she’d realised what he was doing. He’d actually had the temerity to brag to his ex about it when he’d thought Megan wasn’t listening. She’d told him to leave her apartment and demanded the key back from him. Now, she realised, he’d obviously been in her files in her home office.

She’d never given him her password but he’d obviously figured it out somehow. She’d make him pay, if it was the last thing she did.

But no more of this mooning around. She’d go to the festival rehearsal, get some more food from the crazy lady at the village store, and chase up a plumber. And then when she got home, she’d figure out a plan of attack. She was going to fight to keep her job.

Sitting up straight, she squinted into the bright sunlight as the creak of a gate caught her attention. David was heading out the back of his cottage across the fields, his guitar slung over his shoulder, and he was obviously going to rehearse at the festival at Pilton. If she didn’t hurry, she’d miss the afternoon rehearsals. No more sitting around feeling sorry for herself. She’d grab her notebook and camera, go start her research, and enjoy herself while she was there too.

##

First stop was the village, and she walked along the road rather than cutting across the fields. The main street was quiet and she headed for the pub—there’d be more chance of getting local information there. The hippie woman in the shop had been less than helpful yesterday.

“Wait!” A shrill voice came from behind and Megan turned around. The purple apron was flapping in front of the plump shopkeeper who was wearing orange tights today. Megan smothered a grin.

“Sorry, love. Just wanted to tell you, Ned is dropping your water off at the cottage later.” The woman huffed as she came to a stop beside Megan. “He got in late last night and I forgot to tell him to deliver it to you. He had a long cab fare to London.”

“No problem. I’m just…er...going to the pub to see if they can find me a plumber.”

“No, no, no.” The woman shook her head and her long earrings jangled as her head moved. “No point, love. Another twenty-four hours to the solstice and whoosh…before you know it, everything will be working again as good as gold.” She reached over and gave Megan a motherly pat on the cheek. “You’ll see.”

Megan shrugged and headed off down the road, looking at the festival map that had been delivered along with her ticket.

Damn…I’ve gone the wrong way.

She’d totally lost her sense of direction—being in the Northern Hemisphere had thrown her and she had to think before she got her bearings. Pilton was actually closer to Shepton Mallet and it would have been quicker to go across the fields from her place than walk into Glastonbury and go around. It was only a two-mile walk that way. By coming into the village, she’d added about six miles to her trip if she wanted to continue on to the farm where the festival was. She flipped over the map and looked at the bus schedule, but the buses didn’t start running from the village until the festival proper kicked off tomorrow.

With a sigh, she turned back to the shop to collect supplies for a decent meal tonight. This afternoon she’d charge her phone and focus on the e-mail from Tony and then make sure she was up bright and early tomorrow to go to the festival.

***

For the first time, everything had gone according to plan on stage. Holly hadn’t shown up, and David was pleased with the rehearsal. Just as he crossed the field and lined up the markers, the sun set in a blaze of colour that highlighted Saint Michael’s Tower on the top of Glastonbury Tor. The air softened immediately. He loved the long English dusk and he missed it when he was on his Caribbean island.

The only thing that had stuffed up rehearsal today was worrying about Megan. For the life of him, he couldn’t understand why the woman stayed in his thoughts. He didn’t like what was happening to him. He’d dreamed about her and she was fixed in his mind. Perhaps it was the solstice that was screwing with his head.

Yeah, she loved his songs, and yeah she was a looker, but she’d touched him deeply and his emotions were kicking in for the first time for a long time. Every time he’d sung a song this afternoon, an image of her brushing at her eyes had stayed with him. Something had upset her.

He closed his eyes, touched the stone at the gate and let the rush take him home.

As he entered the back gate to his garden, the tantalising smell of Italian herbs wafted past. Before he could change his mind, he put his guitar on the bench on his back porch and walked around to the rear of Violet Cottage. Logic told him not to go, but he couldn’t help himself.

Megan was sitting at the table on the patio surrounded by a pile of papers. David stood watching quietly as she bent her head and wrote in a notebook. Her hair was damp and small dark ringlets were plastered to her forehead. Her shoulders were bare, her skin almost translucent in the soft light, and the same perfume she’d worn in his car today wafted across to him. It mingled with the perfume of the roses spilling over the fence between the cottages. As he stepped towards her, she frowned and pursed her lips, tapping the pen on the table. She lifted her head and looked at him without speaking as he stood by the table.

“I just came over to check on your water, but it looks like you’ve found a plumber?” He pointed to her damp hair.

She shook her head. “No, a guy called Ned dropped off a big container of water and lugged it into the bathroom for me. I managed to heat enough on the stove to have a much-needed bath.”

“I’ll have a look at the well for you now.”

“The well?”

“Yes, the water to both houses comes from a well in the backyard of your cottage.”

“So have you got water?” she asked.

“I do.”

Megan laughed and her whole face came alive. He couldn’t stop looking at her. Her eyes were suddenly bright and for the first time he noticed the fleck of gold in her green irises. Unable to resist, he lifted both hands so that her face was framed in his fingers. She held his gaze and smiled.

“What? What’s so funny?” he asked.

“I was starting to believe the stories of the woman in the village shop.” She shook her head and he dropped his hands away. “She had me convinced it was something to do with the solstice.”

“Nah, more to do with the cottage being empty and the pump seizing up. Jules is an old hippie. She’s been here since the first Glastonbury festival.” He turned his head away, realizing he’d given away too much with that simple observation. He had to learn to hold his tongue, as well as keep his hands off her. She hadn’t moved when he’d held her face. Now, he sniffed appreciatively and glanced across at the stove. “I’ll go down and check the pump for you if I can share your dinner. How’s that for a deal?”

“Sounds fair to me.”

“Pizza?”

“Sorry, just spaghetti sauce.” Her face was guarded and his heart did a strange little jump as she dropped her gaze.

Whoa, what was that? I haven’t felt a rush like that for a long while.

Pushing the feeling away, he flickered a glance across the papers on the table as he turned to head down towards the well. “Your research?”

“Not really, just a problem I have to sort out.”

***

Megan had gathered the sheets of paper together when David arrived. It had been demoralising reading the e-mail from Tony about supposed dates that she had allegedly opened, read, and deleted the e-mails from the vice-chancellor containing the allegations. With it was an audit trail of marks changed in the grade centre under her log-in name. Statements from two students who were prepared to say she had accepted money from them for high marks. And it went on and on…

She shook her head as she followed David, touching her face where his fingers had held her so gently. Her skin was tingling and alive, and the warmth of his fingers on her skin still lingered. For some strange reason, his touch had been welcome and it had been hard not to turn into his hand and put her lips against his fingers.

The grass was soft and cool beneath her bare feet and the dusk light was fading. A small measure of calm stole over her as she padded along behind him. David wore his usual black T-shirt and she had to strain to see where he was heading.

“Oh, look!” She smiled when a white rabbit hopped across the grass in front of her and stopped to nibble at the long grass close to her bare feet.

David stopped in front of her and she cannoned straight into him. He grabbed her arms to stop her from falling. She’d been focused on the small white fluffy creature and hadn’t been watching where she was going. His hard chest was warm against her cheek and for a moment, she rested her head there, listening to the steady thump of his heart. Megan closed her eyes and took a deep breath before she pulled away from him.

What the hell am I doing?

“Sorry, I was looking at the rabbit,” she muttered, feeling a bit like Alice in Wonderland. “So, where’s this well?”

David stood looking down at her and when he spoke his deep voice sent a ripple curling through her stomach. “Why are you so sad, Megan?”

“I’m not,” she said tersely. “I’m just keen to get the water fixed so I can get settled and get on with my work.” There was no way she was sharing her worries with a stranger. And he was a stranger, no matter how kind he was being now, and how much his touch stirred her. Since he’d lost the macho rock-star act and been civil to her, he’d been a different person. And his resemblance to the idol of her dreams still threw her every time he spoke to her. It would be very interesting to hear him perform and see if he sounded anything like his uncle.

She stepped away. “So where is it?”