It’s okay. Gwendoline’s banged up, yes. She’ll have some killer bruises from that fall, but I think she passed out from shock more than anything else. And as I check her limbs one by one, squeezing gently as I check for broken bones, her breathing changes. Gets quicker and more shallow, until I’m sure as day that she’s lying there awake, letting me run my hands all over her.

Jesus. I can’t think too hard about that.

“Who are you fooling, cariad?” My voice is a quiet rumble between us. If she were really asleep, there’s no chance she would wake.

But Gwendoline’s mouth twitches. She peeks up at me from one eye, a bright flash of periwinkle blue in the darkness. “No one, apparently.”

She’s got that right. I know this girl by heart, even though I’ve kept my distance, and I can read all of her moods. I know how she looks when she’s bored or wistful or hungry, and I know when she’s truly passed out and when she’s awake.

“You took quite a fall.” Since she’s not moaning in pain, I’ve got no more excuses. I take my hands off her thigh and fold my arms over my chest. “Are you dizzy? Should I call a doctor? Or your father?”

Gwendoline wrinkles her nose and shakes her head, fair hair shifting over my workbench. “No. Sorry. It’s all a fuss over nothing. I’ll get out of your way in a second, Mr Evans, I promise.” As she speaks, she pushes up onto her elbows; starts to struggle upright.

“Don’t.” I’m touching her again before I can think, pressing down on one shoulder. “Lay there for a second. Catch your breath in the warm.”

Gwendoline scoffs but she settles back, and my mouth twitches in turn. ‘Warm’ is an understatement. It’s so hot here by the furnace that her cheeks are flushed bright red and beads of sweat are sliding down my spine. The air shimmers with heat. You could chew on it. I’m used to it, but it must be a shock to little Gwendoline’s system.

“It’ll be a wet walk home.” I squint out of the nearest window. The afternoon light was already fading when the storm clouds came, and now it’s nearly as dark as night. “If you’re even up to it.” An image of her stumbling through the gloom drifts through my mind, bruised and soaked and dazed, and I clear my throat. Absolutely not. “Which you’re clearly not, so. You’ll stay here until it’s safe to drive you home. That’s that.”

Pink lips curve and blue eyes twinkle up at me. Gwendoline knits her fingers together over her stomach, visibly pleased, and I try not to notice the way her skirt’s rucked up her thighs. “You’re awfully bossy, Mr Evans.”

“Rhys.” She’s just showing respect, acknowledging the decade or two between us, but she called me by my first name earlier. I don’t want her taking it back now. “And it’s not bossiness. It’s care.”