The Secret Kiss of Darkness by Christina Courtenay Page A

grief. My mother didn’t ask much of him, or so I’ve been told, but she cheered him with her zest for life. They both knew it wasn’t a lasting relationship, but they each got what they wanted out of it.’
    ‘You?’ Eliza smiled teasingly and Jago chuckled.
    ‘No, I doubt that I was part of the plan. Whether I’d arrived or not, Lenora would have continued her carefree life, moving around with her band of Gypsies, had she not died giving birth to me. I would’ve been raised with the other children, as indeed I was at first by my grandmother, but then Sir Philip found out about me. He was a nice man. He had me educated and even left me some money in his will. Enough for me to buy the inn and a decent boat.’ He spread his hands. ‘There you have it, my life story.’
    ‘So you’ve never wanted to go roaming with your kin?’ Eliza put her head to one side. ‘I’ve heard tell anyone with Gypsy blood feels the pull of such a life irresistible.’
    Jago grinned. ‘Oh, I’ve done some roaming over the years – leaving the inn in the capable hands of a friend – but not often. My mother’s blood only surfaces in me occasionally.’
    Eliza sighed. ‘It sounds so romantic, such freedom. I wish …’
    ‘What do you wish, my love?’ He tangled his fingers in her lovely blonde hair and pulled her close so that he could smell the flowery fragrance that was uniquely hers – honeysuckle and roses. He inhaled deeply and stored it in his memory yet again.
    ‘Nothing, except to be with you.’
    ‘You are, sweeting, you are.’
    But he knew they were both wondering the same thing. For how much longer?

    Kayla’s South Kensington flat consisted of just one large room, with a sleeping platform constructed in one corner on which she had placed a plump, comfortable futon. The Victorian house had such high ceilings that there would have been plenty of room for two floors, and the small platform didn’t detract from the sense of spaciousness in any way. The ceiling was ornately plastered with a border of fruit and small animals, and normally Kayla loved to lie in her bed and look at it from all angles. Tonight, however, her legs felt like boiled vermicelli and she was too weak to climb up the ladder. Instead she collapsed onto the sofa with another moan.
    ‘Oh God, I feel awful,’ she muttered. She started to tremble and soon she was shivering violently while her stomach continued to cramp as if it wanted to expel every last ounce of food inside her.
Well, you have, so leave me in peace
, Kayla thought grumpily. She pulled a plaid blanket down from the back of the sofa and covered herself, but it was no use. The shivers wouldn’t stop. Teeth chattering, she finally reached for the phone and dialled her parents’ number. ‘Mum?’
    ‘Kayla, dear. What’s the matter? I was just getting ready for bed.’
    ‘I’m s-sorry, Mum, but I-I’m afraid I’m i-ill. F-food poisoning, I think. Bad oysters. D-do you think I should c-call the doctor?’ Kayla’s mother was a nurse, the oracle to whom all her children turned whenever they had any questions of a medical nature and she was invariably right in whatever measures she suggested.
    ‘Have you been sick? Do you have a temperature?’ she asked in what Kayla thought of as her professional voice.
    ‘Y-yes. There’s nothing left inside me, I can g-guarantee it. And I’m pretty sure I have a bit of a temperature. Maybe more than a bit, actually. I’m shaking like a leaf.’
    ‘Well, wait a while longer, dear. If the temperature goes up even more, then perhaps you should call the doctor. You might need antibiotics; some cases of food poisoning can be nasty. But if you feel a bit better in about half an hour or so, then it should pass. Your body has rid itself of whatever it was, now it has to calm down again. I’ll call in a while to check on you, shall I?’
    ‘Okay. Th-thanks, Mum.’
    Kayla lay back down and concentrated on relaxing her body, breathing deeply to