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The initial stabbing jolt of fear lasted a half-beat before she relaxed and smiled. Obviously this was a dream—because no man had a face like that.
It was a master class in perfection, Miranda decided as she studied the shade and shadow of the dark fallen angel before her. Sharp angles and strong curves made this a face that went beyond mere symmetrical prettiness.
.....
Heartbreak aside, Miranda realised she actually felt good. She normally had a problem sleeping in a strange bed but last night she had gone out like a light and, apart from some strangely realistic dreams that were already slipping away, she had slept through the night. Perhaps it was a good omen.
Eyes still closed, she rolled over towards the window set in the uneven wall where the age-blackened exposed oak beams stood out dark against the bright blue paint. There were a lot of bright colours in the cottage. It had been a combination of the view across the rolling countryside from the window and those beams that had made Miranda select this room when Lucy Fitzgerald had said she could choose any one she liked—that and the enormous, hedonistically soft bed with the carved wooden headboard.
.....
