She caught sight of her reflection in the window. Oh God, that cami left almost nothing to the imagination, and the sweatpants weren’t much better. ‘Yes, please,’ she muttered.

‘OK. I’ll be back in a sec.’

He jogged up the staircase, leaving her marvelling at the period grandeur of the house and becoming even more amazed that she was standing in it, wearing not a lot.

He was back within a few minutes with a navy long-sleeved T-shirt in one hand.

‘Hope this is OK. I don’t have much that’s clean.’

Sam took it. It was soft and warm. ‘Thanks.’

‘No problem. I’ll make us a drink if you want to change. There’s a washroom off the kitchen. I’ll show you the way.’

The kitchen was a surprise, all granite surfaces and white foiled units. Sam didn’t think its stark modernity went with the rest of the house, but she was in no mood to give it a proper assessment, only keen to get out of Gabe’s sight and into something more decent. She took the T-shirt into the cloakroom and swapped it for her damp cami. It was obviously straight from his drawer, freshly laundered with the scent of Lenor.

She had to roll the cuffs up but the top had the advantage of hanging low and hiding the clinginess of the silky fabric over her bottom. She grabbed a comb from the shelf above the washbasin and tamed some of the tangles in her hair while pots clanged outside the door. It was nearly three in the morning – what on earth was Gabe doing? What on earth was she doing?

She emerged to a scent that made her toes curl in delight, even if they were encased in the fluffy purple socks that Zennor had given her for Christmas.

Gabe was leaning over a copper pan on the Aga, stirring something.

‘Mmm. What’s that?’ Sam stood beside him, peering into the pot, which was half full of a dark and gooey liquid.

‘My version of cocoa. A grown-up version.’

As he poured rich dark liquid into two glass mugs, Sam’s tastebuds went wild. ‘That looks and smells amazing,’ she sighed.

‘It’s the best dark chocolate, but this is the really grown-up bit.’ He reached for a small bottle and poured a generous measure of a pale liquid into it.

‘What is it?’

‘Something I picked up on my travels. Wait and see. I’ve no cream, I’m afraid.’

He dusted the top of the chocolate with some cocoa powder and picked up the mugs. ‘Come on.’

In the sitting room, Sam sat on the sofa next to him, almost sinking into the squidgy leather. Gabe handed her the chocolate. ‘Careful, it’s very hot.’