‘That’s going to take a couple of hours,’ said Conor, shutting the oven door. ‘What do you want to do?’

‘Weeell…’ she replied slowly.

‘God have mercy on me. You’ve worn me out.’

She laughed. ‘I quite fancy standing here, watching you…’ she paused suggestively, ‘… cook.’

‘The stew’s going to take a while. I thought we could go next door. Light a fire. Make out.’

‘Make out? Isn’t that for teenagers? Besides, you ought to rest. Build up your strength for later.’

‘Later! Hannah Campbell.’

She bit her lip, pleased and surprised by her uncharacteristic boldness. Ireland Hannah was back and she was rather enjoying herself. Although she couldn’t quite forget that at some point she was going home and would be England Hannah again.

‘Conor?’

‘Yes?’ He turned at the question in her voice.

‘This,’ she waved a hand, suddenly shy. She really wasn’t that sexually experienced.

‘This?’ he teased, and she blushed.

‘Well, you know.’

‘I do.’ He came forwards and kissed her on the lips, sitting down next to her on the sofa.

She searched for the words. ‘I… I get that it’s temporary. I mean, I’ll be going home soon and, well, I know you said you didn’t get involved with guests…’

He pulled a face. ‘Yeah?’

Taking a deep breath, she plunged in. ‘Well, I’m… I’m not expecting anything from you. I know it’s just a fling thing.’

‘Fling things can be a lot of fun,’ he said, leaning in and kissing her again. ‘We can have a lot of fun in a few weeks.’

He put an arm around her and pulled her closer. ‘And this is why I put a sofa in the kitchen. Of course the official reason is that it always seems a sin to rush off to another room after a good meal, almost as if you’re turning your back on it.’

‘I like that way of looking at it. Seems a shame to light another fire when the wood burner’s going so’—he kissed the corner of her mouth—‘well. And there are such delicious smells’—she squirmed as he trailed more kisses down her neck—‘and it’s so lovely in here.’

‘You know, you talk too much,’ he said, kissing her mouth.

After a while, when both of them came up for breath, he rose and topped up their wine glasses. She turned to face him, snuggling her bottom into the corner, drawing her knees up to her chin and putting her wine glass down on the small table next to her. She needed to regain a bit of equilibrium.

‘There’s something about sitting in a kitchen. When we used to eat at my sister’s there wasn’t much room, so we always ended up staying at the table talking. My aunt could never wait to get out of the kitchen. She’s not much of a cook either.’