I bobbed a curtsy as they passed me and Owen paused to smile and bow, repeating my name in his mellow voice before ducking under the lintel. The two younger men stopped and greeted me politely. The first followed immediately in his father’s footsteps but the one with the bright hair and the chip-toothed smile lingered before me. ‘Sorry, I did not catch your name. Mine is Jasper.’

Why did I have to blush? Having three brothers I was used to boys and these cousins were surely no different to them? ‘It is Sian,’ I said.

‘Shawn?’ he repeated, inaccurately. ‘Is that a Welsh name?’

‘Yes, I suppose it is. My mother was French and called me Jeanne but everyone here calls me Sian.’

He still looked a little puzzled. ‘Oh I see. So that might be Jane in English? Will you forgive me if I call you Jane?’

I found myself telling him I would; yet even as I said it I knew it was not true. My name sounded harsh and plain in English – but then he endeared himself to me once more by saying, ‘My mother was French too.’

‘Yes, mine was your mother’s companion at one time. I am sure my father will explain it all.’

He nodded and paused to gaze around him. ‘It is very beautiful here. Believe it or not it is my first close-up sight of the sea and I find it quite breathtaking, so wild and empty!’ His grin was apologetic but he turned his face to the land and went on, ‘And I like the way the stone walls make patterns on the hillsides. We rode through the mountains yesterday and they were truly awe-inspiring. I have seen nothing like them in England.’

His enthusiasm for my homeland made me garrulous in return. ‘I am so glad you think that. I do not know how long you will stay but very soon we will be moving the sheep up into the hills. We walk them to the high pastures and sleep out under the stars. Perhaps you might join us?’

Jasper shrugged. ‘My father seems to take it for granted that we will stay for a while but tell me honestly, do you have room for us?’ His gaze swept the facade of the house and he looked doubtful.