Oliver blinked heavily and came out of his stupor. Realising Kerensa had said something to him he had to think hard to recall her exact words. After the loneliness of an afternoon getting nowhere with his paperwork, a late supper he’d picked at alone, he suddenly wanted to be with her. When he spoke he said the words rapidly, moving up behind her in the same way.

‘Long ago I promised Ted work on the estate and a cottage when he felt he could no longer go down the mine. I repeated the offer after the last mining accident. That time has come and that’s why he was here.’ He fought down the desire to take the hairbrush and caress her hair.

Before she lost his attention again, Kerensa jumped up and faced him. ‘I hate the way things are between us, Oliver. I’ve told you so many times how sorry I am. Please, my love, say you forgive me. Can’t we go back to the way things were before?’

Oliver had torn off most of his clothes and wore nothing but his breeches; the only barrier between his flesh and hers was the nightgown. The knowledge made his heart pound and when she pressed the flat of her hands on the hot moist skin of his chest he was overpowered by a painful desire for her and pulled her urgently against him.

The first touch of his lips was tender but erupted into a long fierce need for more. Kerensa’s body shook with a desperate need for him too. She moved her lips hungrily against his and entwining her arms round his neck she strained into his strong muscular body. Her heart and soul, imprisoned in despair since his furious withdrawal from her, soared. She had been so fearful the depths of his hurt and anger would stretch to their marriage bed. Almost roughly he lifted her off her feet and swung her down on the heavily draped four-poster bed.

The ecstasy of their lovemaking left Kerensa feeling vulnerable and wanting to weep. She lay half over Oliver’s body. He was tense and breathing rapidly. His arms were about her but his fingers were interlaced. The significance of this worried her; usually after a time of loving Oliver would tenderly caress her. The clasped hands meant an aloofness, a holding back from her. She wanted to get him talking again but didn’t know what to say. Yet again she asked herself why she hadn’t had the good sense to realise she ought to have told him about Samuel Drannock years ago?