They were sitting on a log in a small clearing, sharing the pale golden liquid of a wine bottle. Rosie’s face suffused a hot red to the roots of her hair. She had tried not to confess to herself that the real purpose of coming all this way was the hope of catching sight of the taller, darker of the two men. And now here he was, only a few feet away. She felt a flush of guilt and slightly giddy. She could clearly hear their words. They were talking over matters concerning the estate and Ker-an-Mor Farm. The tone of their conversation was self-congratulatory.

Sir Oliver was saying, ‘It’s been said, Nat, that we have advanced in agriculture farther than any other county in the country and this year we have certainly seen more than reasonable yields from both livestock and grain. We organise the breeding of our stock on a scale not thought possible in my father’s day.’

‘Aye, sir, that’s true, and with careful management and coppicing of the oak…’

Rosie did not want to hear what Nathan had to say. She hoped he would soon go and leave Sir Oliver alone. Then she wished they would both go and hoped they would never know she had been there spying on them. Oh, she thought wretchedly, I don’t know what I want at this moment. What would Nathan O’Flynn think of her presence here? Would he think her search for mistletoe and ivy no more than an excuse? He was nobody’s fool. Nor was Sir Oliver. He would know why she was here. What would he do with that knowledge? Laugh at her? Humour her? Be angry with her? If they were left alone together would he take advantage of her? The last thought made her sink down till the men were out of her sight. She huddled against the tree trunk, keeping herself just off the cold forest floor.

As she squatted uncomfortably thinking over the many possible consequences of the situation she had put herself in, Rosie was taken over by a rebellious mood and she was sure of one thing. She wasn’t going back yet. She didn’t care what Kenver or Alice, her father or even Clem thought. She did her share of the work on the farm and she was twenty-one years old, old enough to make decisions for herself.

She remained crouching, catching odd snatches of their conversation. Matthias Renfree was mentioned and she listened carefully. Why was she interested in anything concerning Matthias? It was all so confusing. Clem and Alice brought up Matthias’s name often, referring to his qualities and how he would make a good husband, but she didn’t realise they had her in mind as his wife.