It had been a strange three days. Cesca had wondered about the prospect of another lunch date with Will – if it had ever been a date in the first place; she’d hoped for it even. But she’d heard nothing from him. Was he waiting for her to contact him? She had no idea, but aside from talking to him about the case – and she had no more news on that front, having also lost Kristofer to the same man-swallowing black hole that seemed to have descended on the Dorset countryside – there was no professional reason to speak to him. As for personal reasons, she was even more in the dark about where she stood with him there than she was about the nature of his claim on the Silver Hill find.

Mulling it over and over was pointless and unproductive, so Cesca had thrown all her energies into one last attempt to get to the bottom of the mystery about his family ring, hoping it would shed some light on the rest of the trinkets found with it. She’d phoned Kristofer on more than one occasion for his input and got no reply. Not especially odd, but when she did manage to speak to him and asked if he’d like to meet up to exchange what they’d both found out, it was to be reassured that he was still researching at his end but that he was tied up and couldn’t meet. She didn’t want to ask why, because he didn’t seem keen to volunteer the information, and though she had no right to expect his help, she couldn’t help but wonder at his apparent change of heart. He’d been excited to get involved, but now, though he hadn’t exactly told her to stay away, she had the distinct impression that he was keeping her at arm’s length.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a shrill ring from under a stack of maps on her desk.

‘That’ll be your phone calling,’ Duncan said from across the office as he studied a piece of ancient-looking pottery.

‘Thanks for pointing it out,’ Cesca said with a grimace and she heard him chuckle. ‘You know the only person who thinks you’re funny is you.’

‘As long as I do, that’s all that counts.’

Cesca clamped the phone to her ear. ‘Francesca Logan… Oh, hi, Sunita, what can I do for you?’ She listened intently, every so often murmuring understanding or bobbing her head as she doodled around scribbled names and numbers on her notepad. After a couple of minutes, she spoke.

‘I see. Let me collate what I have at this end and we’ll talk again if that’s OK.’

Planting the receiver back into its cradle, Cesca leaned her elbows on the desk and massaged her temples as she gazed out of the window. It was breezier than of late, the sky an ever-changing patchwork of white and blue, delicate petals of crab apple blossom racing across her view of the road outside, blown from a nearby tree. Cesca loved that tree when it bloomed, but that brief, glorious explosion was always over too soon. After today, the blossoms would be all but gone.

Picking up her mobile phone, she dialled Kristofer’s number. When the answer message began, she clicked to end the call rather than leave a voicemail. It was easier to try again later than explain now. She needed to speak to Will too, but it was a conversation she wanted to put off for as long as possible, at least until she was sure they’d done everything they could on his behalf.

‘The British Museum?’ Duncan asked.

‘Yep.’

‘They can’t find any marks of ownership on the Silver Hill pile?’

Cesca let out a long breath. ‘No.’

‘What are you going to do?’

She turned to him. ‘I have no idea. I think I’ll give it one last go to see what I can find and if nothing turns up by the end of the week then I’m going to have to pass it on to the commission. They won’t let us drag our feet for much longer anyway.’

‘Are you going to tell Lord Frampton what the situation is?’

‘I suppose I ought to, though he’s not going to like it.’

‘Want me to speak to him? I don’t mind.’

Cesca turned back to the window. ‘No,’ she said. ‘I’d better.’ She reached for the phone, but then put it down again. ‘I’ll go up there later,’ she said. There was no reason to break the news in person, but some small part of her wasn’t listening to reason.

---

‘So the ring was almost certainly given away?’ Harper asked.

Kristofer nodded. ‘I don’t know what different conclusion to draw. It was late last night when I found the second account of the trial and I didn’t want to phone Cesca in case she’d gone to bed, but I’m going to call her at lunchtime to let her know.’

‘Call her now if you like,’ Harper said, angling her head at the near empty tearoom as they both stood behind the counter together, Kristofer towering over her in his tiny floral apron, seemingly oblivious to how ridiculous he looked in it. In fact, he looked vaguely proud to be wearing it, now standing with his hands sunk in the front pocket as he surveyed the fields beyond the window.

‘I don’t want to leave you alone.’

‘I’m hardly rushed off my feet,’ she said. ‘Nip out now and if a bus full of customers arrives I’ll call you. In fact, if a bus full of customers arrived I’d probably faint from the shock.’

He threw her a grin and went into the back, yanking his phone from the pocket of his combat trousers as he did. But he came back a few moments later with a frown.

‘No phone signal,’ he said, slipping the phone back into his pocket.

‘Oh, sometimes it’s like that here; we’re in a bit of a black spot. It often improves later in the day – no idea why.’

‘I’ll try again later.’

‘I’m almost sorry that Will doesn’t have his proof,’ Harper said.

‘You want him to take the valuables?’

‘If they belong to his family, then yes.’

‘You think it does?’

She shrugged slightly. ‘I don’t see why not. Who else around here would have had the money for that sort of bling? Not that I know much about the history of Cerne Hay or Silver Hill, but it just makes sense to me that the gold would have belonged to the family. It’s hard to imagine who else it could have belonged to.’

‘There’s no reason why it could not have been brought to this place from further afield,’ Kristofer said.

‘But to be brought in from somewhere else and just happen to include a ring that looks exactly like the ring in Will’s family portrait? And to be buried here, out of all the places it could have been buried?’ Harper shook her head. ‘Doesn’t make any sense to me. I think it’s Will’s.’

‘I would love to know how it got here,’ Kristofer said. ‘I wonder if we’ll ever discover that. Even if the ring was given to the servant, that doesn’t explain how the rest of the collection ended up with it in a box buried on the nearby farm.’

‘It is weird,’ Harper agreed. ‘For a start, I’d take it as far away as I could if I’d stolen it.’

‘But I do know that plague came to this village,’ Kristofer put in.

Harper turned to him. ‘Did it?’

‘Around that time there were many deaths; the village was almost wiped out. I read a lot about it.’

‘Then maybe the thief got ill before he could make his getaway? Maybe he buried it in the hope he’d get better and never did, so it stayed there?’

‘It’s one explanation,’ Kristofer said. ‘The farm belonged to a widow at that time, and she was friends with Frizzell so that would offer a good reason for it to be buried here.’

‘So what if she took him in and helped him hide the loot and they both died!’ Harper grinned and she saw it in Kristofer’s face too – that whiff of excitement, the thrill of the chase, the allure of a mystery too intriguing to ignore. ‘Nobody would have ever known where it was!’

‘It does not tell us about how it was taken from Silver Hill House. It would have been a big theft, and yet I can find no account of it apart from the trial for the ring.’

‘Perhaps Will can help,’ Harper said.

‘I’m sure he would have told Cesca about it if he knew.’

They were silent again, both gazing ahead at the breeze sweeping the fields beyond the car park.

‘We should go up there,’ Harper said into the gap. ‘When we close up we should go and see him – tell him our theories.’

‘They are only theories,’ Kristofer said doubtfully.

‘He might be able to fill in some of the blanks, though, bring us closer to the truth.’

Kristofer turned to look at her. Was it her imagination that she saw in his eyes, just for a second, her own longings reflected back at her? Was his pulse now just that little bit faster, as hers was?

‘It matters to you,’ he said.

‘Why wouldn’t it?’

‘Some people would be happy to know a reward is coming to them. They would sit quietly and wait. You need the money – Shay said so.’

‘Everyone could do with more money. Doesn’t mean we need it. People who live on the streets need it, people in war-torn countries need it – we could do stuff with it for sure, but it doesn’t make it right, taking what shouldn’t be ours. And it would be a shame to see Silver Hill House go to ruin when I could help save it. By saving it, ultimately, I’m helping the farm anyway by improving the tourist potential for the area. Everyone wins. And Will’s very nice, despite what people think. He even came down here after Shay had insulted him to bring me a vase as a gift. I’d say that’s a nice person, wouldn’t you?’ She was rambling, and she sounded ridiculous, but it was all she could do to stop herself from saying something that she shouldn’t.

But when she looked up again he was gazing at her like she was a puzzle he needed to solve, and in her mind she played a scene where he stepped forward and took her face in his hands and kissed her.

‘You are remarkable,’ he said with a faint smile, and for a moment, Harper thought it was going to happen.

‘Excuse me…’

They both turned at once, that feeling of being caught somewhere she shouldn’t be forcing Harper to colour as she tried to smile for the woman at the counter.

‘Sorry,’ the woman said, glancing from Harper to Kristofer and back again. ‘I didn’t mean to interrupt but we’ve a spillage and the table is currently dripping with milkshake. I don’t suppose you have a cloth.’

‘I’ll take care of it,’ Kristofer said, bounding into the kitchen while Harper kept that smile stapled to her face for the customer.

‘He’s lovely,’ the woman said as she waited for him to come back.

‘He is,’ Harper said.

‘Very handsome – if you don’t mind me saying. Lovely accent. I suppose you get a lot of attention in that regard.’

Harper frowned slightly.

‘Have you been together long?’ the woman asked.

‘You mean…’ Harper felt the heat rise in waves from her toes to her crown. ‘Oh, no…’ she stammered, ‘we’re not… no, Kristofer just works here. I mean, he doesn’t exactly work here but he’s helping me—’

‘Oh, I’m sorry,’ the woman said. ‘I just thought…’

Kristofer appeared, an amiable smile on his face and a cloth in his hand. ‘Everything under control,’ he called cheerfully as he followed the woman to her table, and as Harper watched him, she wondered if what she thought she’d seen in his eyes had ever really been there at all.

---

‘Cesca…’

Cesca looked up from her screen to see Karen, one of the reception workers at the museum’s main entrance, peer around the office door. ‘Hey, Karen.’

‘There’s a man in the foyer,’ Karen said. ‘He says he wants to speak to you if he can. What do you want me to tell him?’

‘Who is he?’ Cesca asked. It wasn’t normal for them to see visitors without an appointment and she was slightly confused that Karen hadn’t told the visitor as much.

‘He says his name’s William Frampton. Says he knows you and if I came to get you you’d see him.’

Cesca shot up in her chair, glancing across at Duncan who was, by now, listening to the conversation too.

‘A visit from royalty,’ he said with a grin. He turned to Karen. ‘I hope you curtsied for Lord Frampton.’

Karen gave Cesca a confused frown.

‘Ignore Duncan,’ Cesca said, pulling a disapproving face at her colleague. ‘You know what he’s like. Tell Will I’ll be right out.’

Karen disappeared again and Cesca reached for her handbag. Duncan’s grin broadened as she spritzed herself with perfume.

‘I had onions on my sandwiches,’ she said in reply to his silent and irreverent question.

‘You felt the need to explain it to me,’ Duncan said.

‘Honestly, I don’t know where you get the idea that I have the hots for every male I come into contact with.’

‘I just want you to find your prince, that’s all.’

‘Well,’ Cesca said with a wry smile, ‘when a five-foot man comes in singing “Purple Rain”, I’ll let you know and you can throw a party.’

‘Say hello to Lord Frampton for me!’ he called as she let the office door shut behind her.

Shaking her head, she made her way down the maze of corridors that connected the back rooms and exhibitions of the museum and emerged from a side door into the main foyer. Will had his back to her, pacing in little circuits as he waited, Karen’s eyes flicking from her computer screen every now and again for a furtive look at him. Clearly, the news that he was a fully paid-up member of the aristocracy had made him something of an enigma. Cesca had to admit that his being there on a whim was something of a mystery to her too.

‘Will,’ she said, and he turned to face her. As was his way, he looked sombre, but he greeted her warmly.

‘It’s very rude of me to call unannounced,’ he said. ‘But I was close by attending to some business and… well, perhaps I can be excused for wanting to surprise you.’

‘You certainly did that,’ Cesca said with a bemused smile. ‘Is there something in particular you wanted?’

He glanced towards the main desk, where Karen quickly buried her head in a file full of receipts, clearly trying to look as if she wasn’t listening.

‘Well…’ he began in a low voice. ‘I wondered… will you be leaving work soon?’

‘I don’t know; I usually see what’s on my desk and then decide when five o’clock comes. Why do you ask; is there something you need to see me about?’

‘I thought…’ He scratched at the back of his neck, that strange show of nerves she’d seen before when he’d asked her to stay to lunch evident again. ‘Perhaps you might like to come and have a drink with me. I completely understand if it’s not convenient but I thought… well, I didn’t want to be this close to the museum and not ask. It seemed rather rude.’

‘Will, I—’

‘Apologies,’ he said. ‘Ill-mannered of me to arrive here with no warning and assume you could drop everything. I’ll go – please… excuse me…’

‘I was going to ask if you could wait for half an hour,’ Cesca said, unable to prevent a smile. ‘I need to talk to you anyway, so a drink would be perfect.’

‘That’s marvellous!’ He pointed to the door. ‘Should I…?’

‘Wait outside? It seems a bit mean. We are a museum after all – why don’t you take a look around while I finish up and I’ll phone you when I’m ready?’

‘Great idea,’ he said.

‘That way, if you want to start at the beginning.’ Cesca angled her head at a doorway marked PREHISTORIC. ‘And try not to get lost in the natural history forest!’ she called after him as he headed towards it.

He glanced back and gave her a little nod. ‘I’ll try not to,’ he said, and she had to laugh at how seriously he seemed to be taking her warning.

---

Half an hour later she found him pondering an Iron Age skeleton in a glass case.

‘I see you’ve made Fred’s acquaintance,’ Cesca said from behind him. Will spun round.

‘I didn’t hear you come in,’ he said.

‘I don’t know how you missed these big clumsy footsteps,’ she replied.

He looked down at her shoes, as if giving them as much consideration as he had the skeleton a few moments earlier.

‘I don’t think they look too bad,’ he said.

‘Thank you – I think. Where were you thinking of going?’

‘Going?’

‘For that drink?’

‘Oh… well, I had thought perhaps you could recommend somewhere. As you know the city better than me.’

‘There are a few places we could go,’ she said. ‘It depends if you want loud music that you have to shout over, extortionate prices or someone trying to sell you hard drugs.’

He blinked at her and she laughed. ‘Or we could drive out to find a nice quiet pub in the country.’

‘Please don’t suggest the Rising Sun,’ he said with a grimace.

‘I won’t if the idea offends you that much,’ she replied as they began to walk to the exit. Lights were already going out as they passed them, the museum winding down for the day. ‘You don’t care much for the village of Cerne Hay as a whole, do you?’

‘I don’t think they especially care for me.’

‘Why not?’

‘There is a lot of history there.’

‘History is one thing I know about,’ Cesca smiled. ‘If you prefer not to talk about it then that’s fine, but I won’t judge if you do.’

‘I suppose it’s my brother’s fault really. My entire family was blamed for his wrongdoing and things got nasty. We tried to explain but people didn’t want to listen. Now it’s all too ghastly to try to put right, so I’ve learned to steer clear.’

‘This is the brother in prison – the one who’s disinherited?’

‘Yes.’

‘Do you mind me asking what he did?’

‘Not at all. He embezzled some money from the bank he worked for. It’s not pretty, but there it is.’

‘I don’t see how that would get all the villagers in a sweat – banks are probably defrauded every day and nobody even notices.’

At the main doors he stepped forward to hold them open for her.

‘In this particular case,’ he said as they emerged into the balmy evening air, ‘it had a huge impact on one other member of staff at the bank. She’d been persuaded to help him, in return for a share of the money. Consequently, when they were found out, she killed herself rather than face jail and the shame of her family learning the truth.’

‘I still don’t see what that has to do with the village,’ Cesca said.

‘She was Shay McArthur’s mother.’

Cesca halted, staring at him. ‘You’re kidding!’

‘I would never joke about something so serious. So, you see, when the truth came to light, my brother, quite rightly, was vilified. Unfortunately, by association, so was I. Shay had never liked me much anyway, and the villagers were always going to take his side.’

‘But surely people aren’t that small-minded that they can hold you responsible for your brother’s crimes!’

‘We were never popular.’

‘I’m sure not everybody feels that way.’

‘I’ve yet to meet a villager who doesn’t.’

Cesca raised her eyebrows. ‘I don’t think you meet many villagers at all these days, do you? Perhaps if you ventured down there you might have a pleasant surprise.’

‘It would certainly be a surprise.’

‘And if Shay’s mother broke the law along with your brother, how come everyone hasn’t ostracised him?’

‘I imagine because she was one of them, rather than one of us. It would have been assumed that she was an innocent who had somehow been coerced. And her death would have had the rather fortunate side-effect of eliciting sympathy for her in a way prison simply doesn’t do.’

‘What rot,’ Cesca said, and turned to see he was wearing a faint smile. ‘I wonder if Harper knows about this.’

‘One would assume she does.’

‘But she doesn’t shun you like everyone else. In fact, she’s friendly.’

‘Perhaps she’s more liberally minded than most.’

‘Maybe Shay hasn’t told her after all. He might be ashamed.’

‘It’s a possibility.’ He gestured to the road where a battered old Land Rover was parked. ‘Would you like me to drive?’ he asked.

Cesca couldn’t help a smile. ‘I haven’t been in a Land Rover for years. Why not – it’ll be more fun than my little grey Toyota.’

‘Very well. And if you’ll permit me to drive you there, I think I know the perfect place to spend a pleasant hour.’

‘I’m more than happy to give it a go,’ she said. ‘As long as there’s a cold drink and a plate of chips, I’m in.’

---

Harper read the text message.

She stowed the phone in the pocket of her jeans. Any other evening she might have been annoyed at the idea of Shay brushing her off, but tonight it was a blessing. The doors to the tearoom were already locked and Kristofer was dragging a bursting bin bag out to the backyard as she switched off the lights. It might have been folly, given her irrational urges towards him, but surely she wasn’t so pathetic that she couldn’t control herself for an hour while they went to see Will Frampton? She was a responsible adult, after all.

The wind had dropped and mellow evening sunshine bathed the valley. Kristofer had expressed a desire to walk to Silver Hill House, and with weather like this it seemed a shame not to indulge him. It was a good half an hour there and half an hour back, but as Shay was now not coming over, it didn’t really matter how long Harper was out.

Pulling on a light jacket, she wandered outside to find Kristofer plying Terence with bits of leftover salad.

‘The others will get the idea he’s your favourite,’ she said with a smile.

He turned to her with a sheepish grin. ‘I thought he was everyone’s favourite.’

‘He is,’ Harper said. She dropped her voice to a whisper. ‘Just don’t tell the others that.’

Kristofer chuckled as he shared the rest of the salad with the other goats. And after one last fuss of Terence, who nuzzled his hand and gave a little bleat of approval, Kristofer went to wash his hands under the outdoor tap and they set off for the house over the hill.

‘You don’t mind walking?’ Kristofer asked.

‘Not on an evening like this,’ Harper said. ‘If the weather was always this good I’d walk all the time.’

‘I love to walk,’ he said.

‘But you’re all very outdoorsy, aren’t you?’ Harper said. ‘In Norway, I mean. You’re a nation of nature lovers, or so I’ve read.’

He raised an eyebrow. ‘You’ve been reading about me? I’m flattered.’

‘Not about you in particular,’ she laughed. ‘I read it once somewhere – I forget where.’

‘We are very close to nature as a people,’ he said.

‘I bet it’s beautiful where you live.’

‘You should visit one day – you’d be welcome.’

‘I can’t see that happening any time soon. There’s far too much to do here. In fact, I haven’t had a holiday for over a year – basically since I took on the farm. But farming is like that – you can’t very well send your flock of sheep to the kennels. Not to mention the money I’d lose by closing the tearoom for any length of time.’

‘You’ll never take a vacation again?’

‘I suppose I will, eventually.’

‘What about a honeymoon when you get married? Surely your fiancé has arranged a trip for you?’

‘If he has, I don’t know about it. He’d have to get someone in to help Pip for a start while we were away, and if I’m honest, I wouldn’t be able to relax anyway knowing that I wasn’t here to oversee everything.’

‘Your farm is important to you.’

‘It saved my life; it means everything to me.’

‘I can see why you would want to be here. Can I ask how it saved your life?’

She shook her head. ‘I’m having a nice time and I don’t want to spoil it by talking about an ex-boyfriend who treated me so badly that I was just about ready to end it all. My parents both died within six months of each other at around the same time as I finally managed to get away from him… I was a mess. If not for Pip and this place, I don’t think I’d be here.’

‘It sounds as if you had a very bad experience.’

‘I did, but I’m thankful I was able to move on. Being here on days like this reminds me of how much I have to be thankful for, and how much my life has changed.’

‘Life is precious and we must always be grateful for the little things that make it worthwhile.’ He looked down at her with a warm smile, and those alarm bells clanged in her ears again even as her heartbeat quickened.

‘I suppose you know that better than most… You know, because you escaped death.’

‘Sometimes I think the thunderstorm was more than just escaping death. Sometimes I feel it was the death of the old me and the birth of a new one. I value my life so much now where I once took it for granted, and I want to make the most of every minute.’

‘That makes so much sense,’ Harper said. ‘I’m not saying that people deserve to be hit by lightning but there are a few who would benefit from that lesson.’

‘I think the mortality rate would make it a severe form of therapy,’ he laughed.

‘Probably,’ Harper agreed. ‘Still, I think a lot of people are living as if they’re already dead, they’re living so little. It’s a shame. I mean, I’m not exactly living life in the fast lane but I’m trying to make what I do count.’

‘You matter a great deal to the people around you, I think,’ he said.

‘You think so?’

‘I see it now that I know you better. Your boyfriend is very lucky.’

‘Someone should tell him that,’ Harper said.

‘I do not think he would appreciate hearing it from me.’

‘Probably not,’ Harper laughed. ‘Did you hear from Cesca in the end?’ she added in a bid to steer the conversation away from her relationships. It felt like a topic that would lead her into trouble.

‘I managed to get a signal but she didn’t pick up. I’ve left her a message so I hope she will call back when she gets it.’

‘If not we’ll have to phone her again when we get back.’

He nodded shortly, and they fell into companionable silence as they walked the path in the setting sun.

---

They buzzed again, but there was no reply on the intercom at the gate. Harper pressed her face to the railing and peered in.

‘It looks quiet, but then you never can tell. One person living in such a huge place is going to be pretty invisible, even if he is in. When I came up here before with Pip we walked around to the side gate and found him pottering in the garden.’ She turned to Kristofer. ‘Worth a go? It would be a shame to walk all the way up here and not get to speak to him, especially if he is in after all.’

‘I’ve enjoyed walking here with you regardless of whether we find Lord Frampton,’ he said.

‘Well… I have too, but, y’know…’ She turned her face back to the building so that Kristofer wouldn’t see how flustered she looked.

‘I’m happy to walk a little further. As you know where the other gate is, perhaps you’d like to lead the way?’

Head down, Harper led what must have looked like a charge to the tree-shaded boundary wall that she’d walked the day she came here with Pip. But she dared not look him in the eye until she’d composed herself for fear of what she might do. She was aware of the swish of long grass that told her he was following. When she eventually plucked up the courage to turn and look, she saw that he was walking behind, his eyes fixed on the weathered brick of the old walls, from time to time reaching out a hand to touch them. Then he turned and their gazes met.

‘You can feel the history,’ he said, answering her silent question. ‘In the walls. They soak it up like a sponge, and if you touch them you can touch the years that have gone before. I like to imagine that I’m connecting with someone else who pressed their hand against this wall in this spot one hundred… two hundred years ago.’

‘I’ve always thought that,’ Harper said. ‘Isn’t that strange? When my parents would take me to castles and monuments as a child, I’d put my hand on the stones and imagine another child like me, a thousand years before, touching the same spot and imagine that I was connecting with their spirit. I suppose that’s why I like old things so much – furniture and knick-knacks. It’s sort of like bringing history back to life, isn’t it? Keeping alive the connection to the people who once owned them and loved them.’ She gave a self-conscious little laugh. ‘I’ve never told anyone that; they’d have thought I was bonkers.’

‘Perhaps,’ he said as he held her gaze. ‘But perhaps it is because we’re all connected to our ancestors on a level that is impossible to define, but by a tie that is more impossible to break, that many people feel the same way. But like you, they do not say it because they are afraid of others’ reactions. If more people embraced and understood our past, perhaps our present and our future would be shown more respect.’

‘I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone like you,’ she said, staring at him. But then she tore her eyes away and started to walk again, heat rising to her cheeks like a match being struck.

‘Is that good or bad?’ he said from behind her with a low chuckle.

‘I haven’t decided yet,’ Harper said, trying to sound nonchalant, almost irritated that he seemed to be so relaxed with what she felt was a situation charged beyond anything she could cope with. What did he think of her? Was he gripped by an irrational urge to grab her and press his lips to hers, as she was with him? Or did he merely find her a cute distraction to fill his time? And why did it matter so much? She forced herself to think of Shay, the man she was supposed to be marrying in a matter of months. She was promised to another and the thoughts of Kristofer that filled her head were foolish.

They became silent; there was only the sound of Harper’s own breathing, seeming preternaturally loud in her ears, and the soft pad of their feet on a cracked old path carpeted by moss and faded blossoms. Two or three minutes passed in this way – Harper lost track, absorbed by her thoughts – and then they came upon the break in the wall that marked the hidden gate. Harper stopped and put her face to a gap in the ironwork and craned for a good look around the garden.

‘I can’t see anything,’ she said.

Unaware that Kristofer had leaned over her to do the same, she turned abruptly to find his chest in her eyeline. And then he moved away, an inch at most, an apology on his lips, until their eyes met. Harper blinked, the world slowed, then Kristofer leaned in and kissed her.

Her pulse roared in her ears like the rushing of a mountain stream, an explosion of desire in her loins, the world around her melting away, and all that remained was the feel of his hands in her hair and the fragrant warmth of his skin. Stop him, stop him, her conscience screamed, but her body wouldn’t listen. How could something this beautiful and natural be wrong? He kissed her as if he’d always kissed her, as if they’d been made to fit – tenderly, lightly, and yet simmering with passion. He could have taken her there and then, underneath the trees, the evening air caressing their naked skin, and she would have been powerless to stop him.

When he finally pulled away, he searched her face, and his usual serenity was gone. He looked as confused as her – pained almost.

‘I did not know I was going to do that,’ he said. ‘I’m sorry.’

Harper wanted to say it was alright. She wanted to tell him that she’d loved it; she wanted to tell him to do it again. But she couldn’t, because already things had gone too far. This could not happen, no matter how much she might dream otherwise.

‘It’s not your fault,’ she said, sliding into the gap behind them to get out of range. Better to put some physical space in the way of temptation. ‘I should have stopped you. It’s not that I don’t like you, it’s…’

‘I understand,’ he said.

‘I don’t think Will is in.’ Harper glanced at the gate. It didn’t matter if Will was in or not now, there was nothing else to do but abandon their quest. Being attracted to Kristofer, safe in the knowledge that it was no more than a silly crush was one thing, but to know he felt the same… that was dangerous. She had to get away before they both did something they regretted. And she would have to stay away. ‘I’d better get back to the farm. But don’t worry, I can take a shortcut across the fields and I’ll be there in no time.’

There was no shortcut, but she hoped that it would put him off taking the same route.

‘You wish to walk alone – I understand.’

‘It’s not that,’ she said quickly. ‘I’m sure you have things to get home to as well. After all, you need to speak to Cesca for a start.’

‘I do,’ he said. ‘Will I see you tomorrow? You need my help?’

Harper shook her head, forcing a carefree smile. ‘You know what; you’ve worked unpaid for me too long and it’s not fair. You have a living to earn, and you’ve been fantastic, but please don’t worry about coming for the rest of the week. I’ll manage, and Shay might pop in to lend a hand. Pip said she might come back early too so…’

He gave a short nod and her gaze went down to where the sun glinted at the entrance of the tunnel of trees, the place where the real world lay in wait. She couldn’t look him in the eye for fear that what she found there would break all her resolve.

‘But I’m sure I’ll see you around with Cesca,’ she added. ‘So… goodbye and thanks for everything.’

Without waiting for a reply, she turned to make her way to the road. She had no idea if he followed in her steps as she walked, but she didn’t dare turn to see. She kept on walking, tears burning her eyes and regret weighing down her feet.