She tried to recall what had roused her. Her sleep had been fitful, as it had been for several nights, and the bedclothes were rumpled and creased from her uneasy tossing. But something other than a bad dream had woken her. Ignoring the frigid air, she slipped from the bedcovers and padded across to the window. At this hour, the garden at the back of Asher’s house was dark and shrouded in thick mist. She couldn’t see a thing, yet she sensed whatever had started her awake had come from outside. Dull moonlight sifted through the haze. For a moment, the mist thinned, and she made out the rough outline of some sort of stable block at the far end of the garden. The large structure had a solid door and a row of south-facing windows along its roofline. As she watched, a faint glow lit up the windows before the entire building disappeared behind the rolling mist. Someone was working late. She knew it was none of her business.
