One Night in Madrid

At her side Raul stirred and, reaching out a hand, pulled up the duvet and flung it over her, enclosing them both in a soft, warm cave of down, cosy and snug. He was lying behind her now, with the length of his body pressed against hers, legs tangled together.

She cuddled closer, feeling his arms holding her tight. In the warmth and security of his embrace, she felt her eyes grow heavy, droop closed, warm waves of tiredness washing over her. For the first time in five days she felt the tension that had been with her every second slowly ease from her.

She was drifting away, almost going under, when Raul’s mood suddenly changed. He sighed, flung himself on his back, folding one arm behind his head as he stared up at the ceiling.

‘Alannah …’

Whatever else he was about to say was drowned out by the sound of a loud, intrusive rap at the door.

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