Ameline tried not to think about Oliver. From the time she’d begun to butterfly into womanhood, her feelings about men, other than male relatives, and male servants who were nonexistent to her, were uncomfortable and confused. With men like Oliver, who possessed an overpowering male sexuality, she felt utterly ill at ease and was secretly relieved he was not often at home.

She put aside the problem at the manor house and dipped her thoughts back to her own future. She crunched unsteadily towards the rush of the sea, a sharp breeze bending the feathers on her cocked hat. She had decided Trelynne Cove was the ideal place to settle the course her future would take. She allowed her imagination to swirl with possibilities and impossibilities, of undertakings involving many risks and much passion, all safely tucked away in daydreams that could not touch her.

Her train of drifting fantasies was violated by a strong male voice hailing her from behind. Ameline whirled round, angry that Conan had followed her. But it wasn’t the stable boy. She watched nervously as a tall young man hurried towards her. He slowed down as he neared her and glaring into her flushed face he did not bother to hide his disappointment.

‘I thought you were Kerensa Pengarron. That’s her pony back there,’ he said accusingly, tossing his dark head backwards.

Ameline thought she should know this young man but she could not place him. She saw by his clothes he was of the working class but did not know whether he was a miner, fisherman or farm labourer. Although there was an edge of refinement in his voice she was offended at the way he addressed her and she deliberately took several moments to speak.

‘I am Miss Ameline Beswetherick of Tolwithrick,’ she told the young man, keeping her tone clear and superior. ‘I am presently staying at Pengarron Manor and Lady Pengarron, as you should refer to her, has kindly loaned me her pony for the day, not that it’s any of your business or that you have the right to an explanation!’

The youth was not impressed. ‘What are you doing here?’ he asked brashly.

Ameline visibly bristled, she wasn’t used to subordinates speaking to her in such a disrespectful manner. ‘More to the point,’ she retorted, ‘what are you doing here?’

‘I have permission to be here,’ he said, his big rough hands moving automatically to rest on his hips as he met her challenge.

‘And naturally so have I,’ Ameline returned coldly. ‘I have told you my name, now perhaps you will have the courtesy to enlighten me as to yours. Oh, and I warn you I have an escort up on the cliff.’

To her consternation he threw back his head and laughed. Then lowering his shoulders, he put his hands above his knees and leaned towards her.