All the fannying around she’d done in her past life, the hours spent in hairdressers and beauty salons being coloured, waxed, plucked, tanned, all that shit – she was never going to have to bother with that, ever again, because that life, that pampered, privileged, false life was over and done with. Here was reality. Day-to-day she wore an old relic of Jack’s mother’s – a pair of ill-fitting jeans – and a shirt of his that had a frayed collar and paint stains on it. No need to dress up and teeter around in high heels any more. No need for anything, because all that artifice, all that pretence, was over. She was ugly and all the preening in the world wasn’t going to change that.

There was movement alongside her and she knew that he was right there. Drops of cool water splashed down on her skin. She heard him sit down on the bank. Then for a long while there was nothing but birdsong and the rush of the water. Her heart was beating hard. She could feel her nipples standing erect, could feel the ridiculous liquid heat between her legs, the longing for him, the readiness, her body opening like a flower. But he wouldn’t want that. Of course he wouldn’t.

‘Belle?’ he said.

She opened her eyes. Jack was lying beside her, leaning over her. To her shock she realized that he was laughing so hard she thought he was about to have a seizure. Actual tears were coming out of his eyes, he was laughing so much.

‘What?’ she demanded.

He gulped in a breath. ‘The nerve on you! I thought you’d be wearing a bra and pants, and instead . . . Christ, you got more front than Blackpool. Walking around stark naked!’

He was off again. Laughing.

‘You’re naked,’ Belle pointed out. She couldn’t see why this was so damned funny.

‘I’m a bloke. It’s not the same.’ Now he was staring down at her and suddenly nothing seemed very funny at all. He wasn’t laughing, not any more.

Belle didn’t know what to say to break the breathless silence between them. It’s OK, I’m ugly, you don’t have to do a thing sprang to her lips, but she couldn’t seem to get the words out. She’d had men before – well, boys – but she had never, ever felt this raw unbridled intensity of lust until now. It was embarrassing, wanting him this much.

‘Belle,’ he said, and he was serious, his gaze intense as it swept down her body and then back up to her face. ‘My crazy brave Belle, if you don’t want this, then say so. Right now.’

She said nothing.

‘Belle,’ he whispered, and then he leaned down and kissed her.