Don’t be silly, Fern, I tell myself. You’re a grown woman. But I’ve never been this far away from my family before, well, not on my own. I consider myself to be a strong and capable woman, but I suppose we all experience situations in which we feel vulnerable. Take a deep breath.

Dee-Dee swings open one of the latched oak doors and the sound of laughter greets my ears. Inside, there’s a long, stripped pine table that could easily seat thirty. However, at the moment there are only five people in the room and they are all clustered around one end. Immediately as we walk in, the laughter comes to an abrupt halt and everyone turns to look in my direction.

‘Hi, Fern.’ One of the men stands and walks towards me with his hand outstretched. ‘I’m Nico. Welcome to the Château de Vernon Retreat.’

The man standing before me has wavy black shoulder-length hair and the darkest brown eyes I’ve ever seen. So dark, they are mesmerising. His neatly defined beard is close-cropped and suits him. I was expecting an older man from the tone of the emails we exchanged, but Nico Gallegos is probably in his early thirties. If it wasn’t for the faint Spanish accent, he would be well cast as Mr Darcy.

There’s something instantly magnetic about this man and I realise I’m staring at him. His olive skin and muscular physique make for a powerful first impression and Nico takes the word smouldering to another level. But there’s something else lurking there. Something rather sad – sorrowful even – that unwittingly adds to the overall mystique.

‘Thank you, um, it’s good to be here,’ I force the words out rather nervously as he takes my hand. But he doesn’t shake it, instead he holds it in both of his and stares into my eyes.

‘You’re not quite what I was expecting,’ he replies, as if he’s literally taken the words out of my mouth.

It’s good to meet everyone, but tiredness makes me excuse myself early as it has been quite a day. My adventure has begun.

As I begin unpacking my things, I lay them out on what looks to be a very comfortable bed. My room in the château must be three times the size of the bedroom at home. The beautiful oak floor, which runs throughout, creaks underfoot as I move around. I don’t think I’ve ever stayed in a building as old as this one before and now that I’m beginning to relax a little, I can at least appreciate the setting.