As throwaway and gruff as the words were, Pax sensed their weight, her heart thudding. To love with such self-restraint must be terribly hard. Who was she to judge infidelity? She’d wished herself in love again a thousand times since marrying.

‘Of course.’ She reached for the door handle, torn between the polite obligation to invite him in to wait for his lift and the overwhelming desire to be alone with her thoughts. Over the wind, they could just hear the quad bike in the distance.

‘Is that the new guy?’ Blair’s head turned to listen.

‘Why not go and say hello while you’re here?’ she suggested overeagerly. ‘He’d love that!’

Blair’s expression darkened, the smile a degree colder. ‘Yeah, why not?’

He trudged off.

Turning quickly back to the cottage, she stopped short as she saw the bottles of wine on the step. Two grenades attached to the trip-wire between her, a shower and much-needed hairbrush.

Just leave them out here, she told herself firmly. If you take them in, you’ll be tempted.

But the thought of a glass of wine, right now, just one small glass, kept her rooted to the spot, staring straight at the enemy. Sweet fruit. Temptation.

‘Tell me what to do?’ she whispered, seeking her grandparents, her father, Lester, Tim, Blair, anybody’s voice that knew what she had to do.

Still she stared, felt her tongue soften and curl as it imagined the red wine’s kiss, her quickfire heart sinking deeper in its cold water, devoid of guilt. One quick drink to steady the nerves. She started to reach down to pick them up, and then it came to her, like a chorus in her head, as certain as a favourite piece of music. She knew precisely what she must do.

Turning tail, she fled back under the arch. Blair was already at the far end of the second yard, not noticing her diving away to the right and sprinting across the cobbles.

Lester’s cob looked up in surprise when she pulled open his door. Much neglected in the past week, he whickered with pleasure at the company. His neck was just as she remembered it: hard, soft, stubbly, velvety, warm, sweet, salty, solid, everything familiar. The comfort of horses. Feelings overwhelmed her, choked her, stole all sense from her except one. She was safe here. She was safe right here.

*

Luca was heaving a bale onto the quad bike rack when he heard the engine stop. He looked up to find Blair Robertson leaning against the seat, the whites of his eyes and teeth bared in his handsome leathery face, nose broken by fist fights as often as horse falls..

‘How you doing, mate?’ He thrust out a hand, voice like a lion growl. ‘Sorry we didn’t get to meet properly when you arrived.’

Smiling warily, Luca shook it firmly but found his fingers crushed, the Claddagh taking another dent.

‘Settling in okay?’

‘I’m good, thanks.’

‘Yeah, I know you’re good.’ He laughed gruffly. ‘We have plenty of people in common, you and me. You’ve got a lot of admirers, mate.’