Bridget, too, expressed her gratitude to the horse. ‘You’re a brave old feller,’ she said, both arms round his neck. ‘Thank you for getting us here safely.’

Harry watched her as she stretched up to embrace the horse, and he thought how delightful she was, small and perfect, with an honest, warm heart and a kindness that belied her tender years. Whenever he looked at her, like now, he felt the anguish of a love that could never amount to anything. Bridget was happily married, while he was hopelessly tied by an aged mother and a selfish sister. They both relied on him, and always would. There was no time or opportunity in his life for anyone like Bridget, and even if she had been a free woman, he could never have asked her to share his burden. He pulled off his cap and ran his hand through his hair. Maybe it was just as well she was happily married, he thought philosophically. Funny how Fate had a way of sorting things out for the best – or the worst.

Suddenly aware that she was being watched, Bridget spun round. When she saw Harry looking at her, she smiled shyly. He was so handsome, standing there, one arm stretched to the upper rail and his foot placed on the lower one. His skin was tanned from his work in the open air, and his hair lay rough and unkempt. He looked like a Gypsy from the roads, she thought fondly.

For a long, poignant moment they gazed at each other, a river of words between them, and not one uttered.

With Tom surfacing in her mind, Bridget was the first to look away. ‘What now?’ she asked softly, not daring to look at Harry. Even after their shared ordeal, Bridget suddenly felt oddly embarrassed.

Sensing her discomfort, he was once again the Harry who had driven them here – organised, efficient, and slightly aloof. ‘For a start, you’d better get out of those wet clothes,’ he suggested. ‘There’s a measure of privacy back here. When you’ve done that, wrap yourself in one of these blankets. They’re a bit rough, I’m afraid, but better than nothing, eh?’ Taking the thick, prickly blanket from the rail, he placed it behind him over the trestle and strode away. ‘I’ll leave you to it then.’

‘What about you?’ Bridget knew he, too, was soaked and chilled to the bone.

‘Don’t worry your pretty head about me,’ he answered. ‘I’ve work to do. Besides, it won’t be the first time my clothes have had to dry on me.’

‘If yours dry on you, then mine can dry on me.’ Bridget was adamant.

He laughed out loud. ‘Just like I said before,’ he grinned, ‘you’re a stubborn little devil, and that’s a fact. While you’re drying off, I’ll find somewhere comfortable for us to sleep.’

‘And after that?’ She eyed him with defiance.

‘All right.’ His smile was charmingly boyish. ‘After that, I’ll think about getting both our clothes dry. Satisfied now?’