She ripped out a nail with perhaps more force that the poor thing required, accidentally pinging it across the field. ‘Any building on Murphy’s land is going to ruin the view from your new house. Do you think I want to be out here in the pouring rain?’ She gave an angry yank at a second nail which screeched against the wood as the plank yawned away from the post and fell to the ground. She wanted to pick it up and bash Conor around the head with it. Knock a bit of sense into him.

‘You’ve made assumptions from the very first time we met,’ she said, marching onto the next post as Izzy scurried forward to collect the wood, darting anxious glances at them both. ‘You assumed that I knew who you were, that I want to be a cook, that I’m here to get in with Adrienne, that I’ve designs on your house.’ She whacked the back of the post with an almighty swing to loosen the plank from the upright. It popped out straight away and fell with a thud into the sodden grass. She took another swing at the lower rail and that popped out with one blow. She was on a roll and already striding to the next post. Conor dodged out the way as she swung again.

‘I’m not like Polly Daventree. I don’t want anything from you. I’m my own woman with my own successful career and you’re too stupid to see that.’

Conor caught her by the shoulders. ‘If you’d just slow down and give me a chance to explain.’

‘To explain what? Conor, I knew you were a chancer the first time I met you. I’ve always known I’m not the sort of woman you would keep. Yeah, I’m pissed off that you thought I was using you, but let’s face it, I’ve never been in your league.’

‘What the hell are you talking about?’

‘I’m safe, sensible Hannah Campbell, who lives by the book and doesn’t take risks. You’re Conor Byrne – you’ve lived all over the world, dated models and actresses. An exciting, glamorous life. I don’t compare to that.’

‘Now who’s being the eejit?’ He gave her a gentle shake and then to her surprise kissed her. It was a gentle, coaxing kiss, his hands sliding up her wet face. ‘Why do you think I left the shoe on the bed?’

‘To be done with me.’

‘Don’t you believe in fairy tales?’

‘No.’

‘There really is no romance in your soul, is there?’

‘No.’ She really didn’t believe in fairy tales.

His thumbs stroked her cheekbones. ‘I thought that perhaps the prince returning the shoe to Cinderella might say something.’

Hannah stared at him incredulously. ‘I think your romantic gestures need some work.’