Slowly, he kissed my fingertips, putting them one by one in his mouth. He grinned. ‘You taste of chocolate.’

But the wind was still blowing in my ears, and the sound of the trees all around us made it immense, like an ocean, like a monsoon, sweeping the sky with dead-leaf confetti and the scent of that river, that winter, that wind.

An odd little thought came to me then—

What if I told Thierry the truth? What if I told him everything?

To be known; to be loved; to be understood. My breath caught—

Oh, if only I dared—

The wind does curious things to people: it turns them around, it makes them dance. In that moment it made Thierry a boy again, tousle-haired, bright-eyed and hopeful. The wind can be seductive that way; bringing wild thoughts and wilder dreams. But all the time I could hear that warning – and even then I think I knew that for all his warmth and all his love, Thierry le Tresset would be no match for the wind.

‘I don’t want to lose the chocolate shop,’ I told him (or maybe the wind). ‘I need to keep it. I need it to be mine.’

Thierry laughed. ‘Is that all?’ he said. ‘Then marry me, Yanne.’ He grinned at me. ‘You can have all the chocolate shops you want, and all the chocolates. And you’ll taste of chocolate all the time. And you’ll even smell of it – and so will I—’

I couldn’t help laughing at that. And then Thierry took my hands and spun me around on the dry gravel, making Rosette hiccup with laughter.

Perhaps that’s why I said what I did; a moment of fearful impulsiveness, with the wind in my ears and my hair in my face and Thierry holding on for all he was worth, whispering I love you, Yanne, against my hair in a voice that sounded almost afraid.

He’s afraid to lose me, I suddenly thought, and that was when I said it, knowing that there could be no turning back after this, and with tears in my eyes and my nose pink and running from the wintry cold.

‘All right,’ I said. ‘But quietly . . .’

His eyes widened a little at the suddenness of it.

‘You’re sure?’ he said, a little breathlessly. ‘I thought you’d want – you know.’ He grinned. ‘The dress. The church. The choir singing. Bridesmaids, bells – the whole shebang.’

I shook my head. ‘No fuss,’ I said.

He kissed me again. ‘As long as it’s yes.’

And for a moment it was so good; the small, sweet dream right there in my hands. Thierry’s a good man, I thought. A man with roots; with principles.