She nodded, touched by his concern. As she looked up, she met his eyes and warmth flooded through her. That might not be love in his expression, but it was certainly affection. Which wasn’t to be scorned.

The blanket seemed a tangible proof that he cared about her. She snuggled into it, smiling as she listened to Cynthia grumbling about the weight of the bucket, nearly choking with suppressed laughter as she watched the other woman walking awkwardly to avoid splashing her jeans.

When Megan’s eyes met Ben’s, she had to bite on her index finger to prevent herself from chuckling aloud. Suddenly she felt much better.

He came across and bent over to kiss her lightly on the cheek, whispering, ‘I’ll take her back to Perth tomorrow, I promise. Come with me? Please don’t leave me alone with her again. Ever.’

A shriek of outrage from outside made them both jerk up in shock.

‘What the—?’ Ben began.

Cynthia came running in, brushing muddy water off herself, and slammed the dripping bucket down on the floor. ‘I’m not emptying that filthy thing again!’

Ben’s face remained expressionless, but Megan had to blow her nose hard.

‘Just look at me!’ Cynthia shrieked, waving her hands at him. ‘I’m soaked! Absolutely soaked. And it’s rusty water. It’ll never come off! My new jeans are ruined!’

‘What happened?’ he asked, all wide-eyed innocence.

She began to dab at herself with the tea towel. ‘The dirty water blew back at me, that’s what happened!’

‘Oh yes. I should have warned you to check the wind direction first. Never mind, you’ll soon dry out and you’ll know better next time, won’t you?’

‘Next time! If you think, Ben Saunders, that I’m going to even touch that damned bucket again, you’ve got rocks in your head!’

Megan had to change another laugh into a strangled cough.

Ben said blandly, ‘You shouldn’t let these little things upset you, Cynthia. What you need, what we all need, is a hot drink. Why don’t you put the kettle on?’

She glared at his back, but he had bent once more over the recalcitrant fire and wasn’t paying her any attention.

Megan concentrated on repeating the twelve times table inside her head, to stop herself from grinning, then started on the thirteen times, but didn’t get beyond three times thirteen before she had to bury her face in another tissue.

In the kitchen, Cynthia began to bang the crockery around. ‘Haven’t you even got a coffee plunger?’

‘Nope.’ Ben didn’t turn round. ‘There isn’t room for fancy things here.’

‘You’re telling me! It’s a real hovel. I don’t know what you see in it, I really don’t! It’s not as if you couldn’t afford a decent place.’

‘We love it here.’ He exchanged a laughter-filled glance with his wife.