Donovan turned his head on the pillow, staring into the sunlight, trying to sear away the compelling image that lingered in his brain, Samantha looking at him, a wealth of longing and need in her eyes. It was bloody hard to think of duty and country when he looked into her eyes and glimpsed a future just beyond his grasp.

From his bed, Donovan stared into the rose garden that stretched out from the back of the pack house. The flowers

formed a colourful carriage wheel with a stone fountain planted in the middle. Water spilt from the urn held by

a smiling nymph, Sunlight transforming the liquid into a...