He was so totally unlike Matthew – like no man Esther had ever known. He held her hand and raised it to his lips, kissing each work-roughened finger with such tenderness that tears sprang to her eyes. He made no demands upon her. He never tried to touch her intimately, to fondle her breast or unbutton her blouse. He didn’t even kiss her mouth. He didn’t lunge at her in a frantic, boyish manner. He was courteous and caring and undemanding. But there was a look in his eyes when she met his intense gaze. Such a look as she had never seen before in any man’s eyes. There was desire – oh, yes, she knew that look – but with Jonathan there was more, so much more.

Esther was bemused and spellbound by him.

If they had not met during the day, as darkness fell Jonathan would slip away from the Seagull and come quietly into the yard of Brumbys’ Farm.

‘Look,’ he told her, holding out his hand to her as they stood in the shadows of the barn. On the flat of his palm lay a door key. ‘The landlord said I should have a key in case I wanted to go into the town and see a bit of night life.’

They smiled at each other. Now he could come and go freely from the Seagull, with no awkward questions asked.

Esther moved close to stand looking up into his face. She wanted so badly to put her arms about him, to lean her head against his chest, to feel his arms holding her tightly. The desire was so strong it was almost a physical pain. She steeled herself deliberately not to touch him.

‘Oh, Esther, Esther,’ he whispered hoarsely and touched her cheek with tender fingertips. ‘Every morning I get up and I say firmly to myself, “Today, I must leave.” ’ He smiled ruefully, ‘Yet by nightfall, I’m still here.’ He shook his head in disbelief at his own actions. ‘I would never have believed that a woman could make me shirk what I know is my duty. But you’re . . . ’ He hesitated, searching for the right word. ‘You’re something very special. Do you know that?’

She reached up and pressed his hand against her face, holding his gaze with her own intense eyes. Slowly his head came down, as if he were fighting the impulse and yet losing the battle. Their lips touched, a gentle, feather-light brush. She heard him make a low sound in his throat. His lips moved against hers, his eyes closed and his arms came about her drawing her into his embrace. She put her own arms about his neck and pulled him even closer to her.

He lifted his head and loosened his embrace. He shook his head. ‘We shouldn’t. We mustn’t . . .’