“It’s me.” Finn was shouting above the noise of the storm. She recognized him at the same moment she heard his voice. He was wearing a fisherman’s sou’wester which was actually perfect for the weather—far more so than Lucy’s own soaking top and shorts, and he pushed the hood back so that the light fell on his face. It was then he saw the violin in her hand.

“What the hell are you doing?” he said. He sounded incredulous. He grabbed her arm with one hand and the violin in the other and dashed across to the barn. The slam of the door behind them sounded above the retreating thunder.

“Here—” Finn threw her the blanket from the back of the sofa. “Wrap yourself up in this for a moment.” He took a couple of the oldest, softest tea towels from the drawer and wrapped them around the violin, placing it gently on the table.

“I came down to see if you were all right,” Finn was saying, snapping off the TV. “I texted but got no answer. Anyway the question seems superfluous.” He stared at her from beneath his brows in the way she used to find intimidating. “Clearly anyone who takes a Stradivarius out in a thunderstorm is very far from all right,” he said.

Lucy gave a gurgle of laughter. “It isn’t a Stradivarius, it’s a Mendini.”

“Whatever.” Finn gave a dismissive shrug. “It’s disrespectful to treat a beautiful instrument like that. Are you hysterical?”

“Very likely,” Lucy said. “Thank you for wrapping him up, Finn. If I put him in the airing cupboard, I’m sure he’ll be fine.”

Finn was glaring. “It’s not funny.”

“You’re absolutely right,” Lucy said. She clutched the blanket to her, trying to find some equilibrium. What the hell had happened to her? The explosion of emotion had been so fierce, so strange, and as before, tangled up in some way with Catherine and her feelings. And now here was Finn looking fierce and worried and she felt an odd sense of protectiveness toward him as well as a disconcerting flash of lust.

She put a hand up to touch his wet face. “Thank you,” she said again, softly. She placed both hands on the nape of his neck and drew his head down so that she could kiss him. After a moment’s hesitation, he kissed her back and then everything else fell away—the misery she’d felt at the unfairness of fate, her anxiety about the future, the visions and strange experiences, all lost in the heat of the moment.

“I have a bit of an issue taking advantage of a woman who’s so clearly upset,” Finn said, when they finally broke apart. He was breathing hard and put her from him with deliberate gentleness. “You need to get into some dry clothes, Lucy, then we should talk.”

“Sorry,” Lucy said, suddenly feeling acutely self-conscious. “I seem to be doing everything the wrong way round...”

“Hey, no worries,” Finn said. He smiled at her. “I’ll put some coffee on while you get changed.”