‘We met here once, purely by chance,’ he told her, keeping his voice nonchalant. ‘I’ve known Lady Pengarron for years. She is a friend of my mother’s. You can ask her, she used to call on us when I was a child until my father put a stop to it. Now he’s dead she calls regularly again. I asked her permission to come here. She gave it gladly and I can assure you Sir Oliver knows.’

His explanation worked. The doubt left her face. Bartholomew thought he could almost like this dull, quiet woman but life was hard and there was no room for sentiment in it. She was certainly destined to marry some boring gentleman, probably much older than herself, who would drain the last spark of life out of her. He might be about to use her but perhaps he could put a little energy and romance into her life at the same time. She might even be grateful to him in her old age.

‘Ameline,’ he said coyly, ‘will you be coming here again?’

She looked all around. ‘Yes. I rather think I will. I have yet to see the other side of the beach.’

‘You, uh, wouldn’t be thinking of coming here… say in about four days’ time?’

‘I might well do that,’ she smiled shyly, with eyelashes lowered.

Bartholomew led Kernick up the winding cliff path with Ameline watching his strong broad shoulders from the saddle. When they parted she set the pony at an easy trot. She would not reprimand Conan for falling asleep. She hoped it would encourage him to do it again when next he escorted her here.

She had forgotten the problems at the manor and her marriage proposal. She was intoxicated with new and wonderful sensations of hope and awakening and wanted them to stay with her for ever. She was already planning to wear a more becoming jacket and dress and her prettiest hat for her next ride to the cove. Ameline Beswetherick was attracted to Bartholomew Drannock as a moth was to the fiery dangers of a flame.

Chapter 12

Jack was in the tack room working up a fever while vigorously rubbing beeswax into Conomor’s saddle. At intervals he sighed crossly because he had not closed the door properly after him and it was banging in the wind.

‘’Tis a miserable life these days,’ he muttered to himself.

One of Nathan’s gun dogs was sleeping fitfully on a bed of straw covered with a cast-off blanket. Jack saw its body jump on the next nerve-jerking bang of the door and it gave a long moan.

‘I’ll get up and close it for ’ee, Reeth,’ he said apologetically to the dog. ‘I didn’t realise it was bothering you too.’