The rattle of chains made them both stiffen as they heard the door being winched back up, hooves at a canter. Voices.

‘No, don’t,’ she gasped, as Nathan loosened his grip on her and leaned around the board to get a look.

She felt the tension leave his body as he caught sight of the action on the other side of the boards. He pulled back in, looking down at her. ‘It’s okay. The picadors are here. They’re herding him out again. It’s fine. It’s safe now.’

She stared up at him, the episode already running in a loop through her mind – the silent image of him leading the bull away from her, the tone in his voice as he’d realized what was about to happen, the look in his eyes . . . In that moment, he’d dropped the story and it had all been there still. It didn’t matter what he said or what she did, that he was married or she was about to be, they were connected by a thread of fire that hadn’t been and couldn’t be extinguished. She felt his hands press into her skin, his grip tighten as he stared down at her—

‘Oh my God, Charlotte!’ She heard the scratch in Marina’s voice as she ran along the callejón pit, stepping up on the low stone wall and leaning over the wooden barriers. ‘Are you okay?’

Nathan stepped back, away from her, the spell broken, his face impassive but his eyes burning with confusion.

‘Yes, I’m fine. I . . .’ She looked around in bewilderment. Everything had happened so fast.

‘What were you doing down there?’

‘I thought you were in here. Having a tour.’

Marina gave a surprised laugh. ‘We already had the tour. They were just bringing in the novice bulls for the horsemen to train with.’

‘. . . You’re saying that was a baby?’ she asked, beginning to feel foolish. Embarrassed.

‘Four-year- old.’

‘It was big enough from where I was standing,’ she murmured, suppressing another shiver.

‘You’re still shaking,’ Marina said. ‘Are you sure you’re okay?’

‘Absolutely,’ she lied, her eyes flickering to Nathan’s and away again. ‘Think I might have a sprained ankle though.’

‘I’m sorry if I pushed you too hard,’ he said, looking stiff, his reserve coming back down. ‘I needed to get you out of its way. You weren’t moving.’

‘Thank God you were.’ She frowned. ‘I don’t know why I couldn’t move. Why couldn’t I move?’

‘It’s a common stress response – flight, fight or freeze. You froze.’ Their eyes locked once more but she could feel the distance between them widening again, normal service being resumed. He was married. She was about to be.

‘Come, we should get some ice on your ankle,’ Marina said, intruding. ‘I fancy a coffee anyway.’

They moved to the cafe, Nathan looping her arm around his shoulder and helping her hop along. The manager – who she’d seen with the radio – ran to get ice and a compress, looking stressed. One of his VIPs quite literally having a run-in with a young bull was not what he’d needed.