I poked around the shops, squirted a few perfumes onto cardboard sticks and tried on a few pairs of designer sunglasses before wandering over to a coffee shop. Placing my order, I moved along, waiting for my drink. The barista put the hot chocolate and slice of cake down on a tray And I juggled it with one hand and my carry-on suitcase with the other, praying to any god that was listening not to let me send the whole tray flying in front of all these people.

Suddenly the tray was lifted from my hand. ‘I can take that for you,’ Lorcan said, looking down at me.

‘Thank you,’ I said, opting for gracious, and followed him to where two comfy chairs were pushed together, a small table in front of them, which already held a large black coffee and a piece of cake the same as I’d chosen. His case was next to one of the chairs and Bod, peering out from his pet carrier, was beside it. Lorcan unloaded my items for me and placed the empty tray to the side.

‘You’re welcome.’

I took a sip of the chocolate and felt it warming me from the inside as I cut off a piece of cake with the side of my fork. The zingyness of the lemon drizzle bounced around my taste buds.

‘Not bad, eh?’ Lorcan said, gesturing at his own piece of cake with his fork.

I gave a brief smile and nodded before leaning down to my bag to pull out my planner and go over what I needed to accomplish this weekend. Despite the faith Peyton had in me and my contacts book, what I hadn’t liked to admit was that I didn’t have any in this area of Ireland. I’d done a few weddings in Dublin and one in Belfast but none near the castle. I’d scanned the web to see what I could find and put out some feelers within my network but, so far, I wasn’t having a lot of luck. That was definitely something I needed to sort this weekend. The cake-tasting had been arranged for tomorrow, which was good of the baker, allowing us to impinge on her weekend. From what I understood, it was a woman both Patrick and Lorcan had known for years, so I was sure that familiarity had helped grease those particular wheels. I sneaked a sideways look at Lorcan under my lashes. Surprisingly, and unlike about 95 per cent of the other customers in the coffee bar, he didn’t have his nose stuck to his phone. He was just sitting, sipping strong black coffee and watching the world go by.

Suddenly he turned, as if sensing my eyes on him.