Winter Wishes by Ruth Saberton

demanded. “Help me to understand, Dan. If it’s more than I already know then tell me!”
    But Danny only shook his blond head.
    “I can’t, Jules. You’ll have to trust me on this one. My marriage is beyond all repair. Just believe me when I say that I can’t have that woman anywhere near me. Sometimes I think I could kill her.”
    There was such black rage in him that Jules shrank back. Gone was the gentle friend she adored and in his place was someone dark and brooding and dangerous – the same ruthless part of Danny, she imagined, that had been able to go into battle and destroy his enemy. A man who was trained to kill. The two personalities were flip sides of the same coin, and recalling this now her pulse began to skitter. The rumours and gossip she’d heard about him when she’d first arrived in Polwenna Bay yawned and stretched back into wakefulness: unstable, dangerous, post-traumatic stress , keep away from Danny Tremaine! Even Danny’s family had tiptoed around him. Had her feelings for him blinded her to the reality?
    Danny’s face, drained of colour, was paler than the moon – and as Jules stared up at him he seemed just as far from reach. He was keeping secrets from her. Maybe he had been all along. Just how well did she actually know Danny Tremaine? Who was he really?
    “I don’t understand,” Jules whispered. “What’s so awful that you can’t tell me? Don’t you trust me?”
    “I trust you totally,” Danny said miserably. “But there are some things that I just can’t speak about, OK? Not even to you. Maybe I don’t trust myself. Besides, this isn’t just about me. If it was then it wouldn’t matter.”
    They stared at one another and although they were only inches apart it might as well have been miles. In the cold moonlight the angles of his face were sharp and harsh, the scars cruel pale slashes. He felt like a stranger and Jules was close to tears. Then his fingers slid away from her shoulder and she felt as alone as a ship that had slipped its anchor. She rubbed at her shoulder and felt the flesh throb.
    “Sorry,” he said softly. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. I think I need to be alone. I’m no good to anyone in a mood like this. The last place I trust myself to be right now is the pub.”
    Jules swallowed. “I agree. The pub’s not a good idea. I’m fine, but where will you go? To the marina?” She wished she could invite him back to the vicarage, but that just wasn’t appropriate. Apart from the danger of her own feelings there was Sheila Keverne, St Wenn’s nosey verger, to worry about. Sheila would have a fit if she brought Danny back; she’d probably call the bishop, and Jules already had enough black marks in his book for one lifetime.
    Danny patted his pocket. “There’s a couch in the marina office and I have a key. I’m not going to make a scene at home but I meant what I said. I’m not sleeping under the same roof as Tara. God, I’m sorry, Jules. What a horrific night. First Poison Ivy and now this. Who needs a Halloween party?”
    Jules tried to laugh but it was an odd, strangled sound. “Maybe I should have just stayed up the ladder?”
    “I bet you wish you had,” Danny sighed. “My bad temper makes Poison Ivy look like Mary Poppins.”
    Footsteps and muffled voices behind them signalled that Jake and Nick weren’t far away. Further back, that red glow in the dark and the scent of skunk must be Jimmy. She caught Danny’s eye and knew the last thing he needed was a family interrogation.
    “Go and have a few drinks with them; it’s the least you deserve,” he suggested before leaning forward and brushing her cheek with his cold lips. “Happy Halloween, Jules. I guess it was the perfect night for the past to come back and haunt me.”
    Jules stared after him as he headed down the cliff path and into the village. She was confused and concerned in equal measure. Once the darkness had swallowed him whole, she rubbed her shoulder again and drew