Adam brought the Mini to a halt, and turned to his passenger.

"I propose that you come no further, Miss Jones," he said, though he clearly had little hope that she might take his advice. "Or you will be unable to avoid seeing the most distressing sights."

"What, people without their clothes on?" Georgie had leaned back in her seat, grinning. "I don't think that's distressing. Just funny."

Adam didn't directly answer her. Instead, he looked down at the naturist colony, a lavish pleasure garden spread out below them.

"What do you see, when you look at that?" he'd said. "'Camp Eden.' A very paradise on Earth?"

"I can see a load of people having a great time," Georgie said. "What are you getting at?"

"I see a panopticon," Adam replied gravely. "That garden has been laid out so that every square inch can be watched from Colegrove Hall. And its inhabitants have voluntarily surrendered all their personal property — down to the clothes on their backs."

"You're making it sound like a prison camp!"

"Precisely. Moreover, without uniforms, there would be no way to distinguish fellow inmates from jailers. Any remark could be overheard. If we need to converse freely once we are within the camp, we shall have to take special measures."

"What sort of measures?" Georgie asked.

"That depends on what I find. Miss Jones, I urge you, once again..."

Georgie shook her head firmly. "I'm coming with you. You can kick me out of the car but I'll walk the rest of the way."

"I feared as much. Please believe that I am only trying to protect you."

"I'm not the one who gets upset by people walking about naked." Georgie put her hands behind her head. "I bet that place is full of pretty girls. What on earth will you do?"

"I shall have to place my faith in iron self-control," Adam said, sounding like a knight preparing to defend a castle against overwhelming odds.

Visitors to Camp Eden slept in individual chalets, ranged around the edges of its carefully-planned garden. The night was hot and humid, the bed not particularly comfortable, and Georgie found sleep a distant prospect.

"Georgina, dearest heart," a low voice said.

The hairs on Georgie's neck stood on end. She'd recognised the speaker as Adam, but she hadn't ever known him to speak like that. Particularly not to her.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, jumping to her feet.

He stepped out of the shadows, a dim silhouette in the blackness.

"I would have thought my purpose was clear, fairest nymph," he murmured, drawing her close to him. Georgie couldn't smell any trace of alcohol on his breath. Had he been drugged? Or somehow mind-controlled?

His hand ran down her spine, and suddenly formed the outline of a letter. Then another, and another.

CABIN BUGGED. PLAY ALONG.

Realisation and relief flooded over Georgie in equal measure. He hadn't come here to seduce her. It was just a pretence so they could talk — well, communicate — without being overheard.

The problem was, she realised, as Adam's other hand teased at a lock of her hair, that she was finding even a pretend seduction from him far more thrilling than a genuine seduction from anyone else she'd known.

His hand moved again. TOMORROW PM. GO TO FOUNTAIN...

Georgie struggled to concentrate on the words he was writing, and not on the sensation of his hands on her bare skin, the warmth of his body against hers. She moaned softly, telling herself that she was only playing her part, but her body seemed to have its own, more genuine ideas.

He had finished writing his message, Georgie realised, and seemed to be awaiting a reply. She ran one hand down his neck, and formed the words GOT IT on his chest. What she ought to do now was draw away, but she knew she couldn't. Or wouldn't. She'd laughed at Adam's talk of 'iron self-control', but she hadn't realised that her own might be put to the test. And fail so completely and gloriously.

"This really is Eden," she murmured, melting into his arms. "Oh, Adam..."