She’d agreed that it wasn’t real, and it was good to remind himself of that so that he wasn’t fooled by her air of joyous content. Otherwise he might have relaxed his guard enough to ask her where the joy came from, and how he could learn to share it.

‘What are you looking at?’ he asked, seeing her stare across the road.

‘That little shop-there’s a sweater in the window-’

She wandered across the road to gaze in the window of Sadie’s Wools. The shop sold wool, knitting needles and patterns, but also a few knitted clothes. One of these stood alone in the bow window, a staggering creation in five different wools, four textures and six colours. Meryl regarded it with awe.

‘That is really-’ she breathed. ‘Really-’

Anticipating her criticism, he bristled. ‘Let’s just leave it.’

‘I don’t want to leave it. You don’t see something like that every day.’

‘I know it probably looks very funny to you after New York, but up here we don’t go for high fashion. Life’s hard and serious. You’ve done wonderfully well today, why spoil it with a cheap laugh?’

She dug him in the ribs. ‘You ignorant man! That thing is hand-knitted by someone with real flair and creativity. It’s wild and wacky.’

‘Meryl, for Pete’s sake!’

‘I know. Life’s hard and serious.’

‘Well, we don’t do wild and wacky, that’s for sure.’

‘You might not, but whoever created that is concealing hidden depths.’

She went into the shop where Sadie, a smiling, elderly lady, was seated behind the counter. At Meryl’s request she fetched the sweater and helped her try it on.

‘I design these,’ she explained, ‘and some local women earn pin money making them.’

‘How much is this one?’

‘I’m afraid-’ Sadie’s voice sank to a whisper ‘-it is rather expensive.’

She named a price and Meryl’s eyebrows rose. The same garment on Fifth Avenue would fetch fifty times as much. ‘I’ll take it,’ she said decisively. ‘And can you arrange for me to see some others?’

As the sweater was packed up Jarvis was fascinated to see Meryl once more scribbling on the back of her hand.

‘Do you normally do that?’ he asked as they drove away with her acquisition carefully stowed on the back seat.

‘Of course. Then I can be sure I don’t lose it. If the rest of the knits are as good as this there’s a perfect little cottage industry here. Those women can earn far more money than they’re doing now.’

‘Meryl, please drop this. I know you mean well, but filling their heads with pipe dreams isn’t kind.’

‘Once you said it wasn’t kind to give them false hopes, but they weren’t false hopes, were they? Maybe you don’t always know what’s best for them-’

‘I think I have a pretty good idea what my people need.’

‘Your people? You mean you own them? Nobody else is allowed an opinion-including them?’

‘I don’t suppose anyone could stop you having an opinion-’

‘Just as long as nobody asks you to listen,’ she said, getting cross.

‘I’ll listen, but I don’t have to be convinced.’

Her voice rose. ‘But we’re discussing fashion, about which you know sweet Fanny Adams!’

‘No, we’re discussing my estate, about which you know nothing at all.’ He added in a gentler voice, ‘Don’t let’s quarrel about this, Meryl. I’m truly grateful to you but-there’s a line I can’t cross.’

‘You mean a line you won’t let me cross, don’t you?’

‘Perhaps I do. The best business arrangements work with well-defined limits.’

‘So they do,’ she said with a sigh.

They reached home to find a press photographer and interviewer anxiously waiting. The marriage of an English aristocrat and an American socialite oil heiress was too good a story to be passed up. Jarvis would gladly have ducked out but he’d resolved to do the thing properly, so he smiled and responded with apparent good humour.

Nonetheless, he was glad to leave most of the talking to Meryl. In answer to ‘How did you meet?’ he could never have come up with her blithe fantasy of taking a driving holiday in the area and impulsively deciding to visit the castle.

‘Just one more picture,’ the photographer begged, ‘the two of you leaning against the car-could you put your hand around her waist? That’s right-draw her a little bit closer-’

Jarvis obliged, trying to put his mind elsewhere so that he wasn’t so conscious of her slim waist under his fingers, the swell of her hips pressed against him. She was warm and soft, but he wouldn’t think of that. Nor would he let himself breathe in the scent of flowers that whispered from her, so faint and elusive that he couldn’t be quite sure…

‘Look into each other’s eyes,’ the photographer called.

Turning, she had to slip her arm behind him, the hand resting against his back. Of course, he told himself, she was adept at putting on smiles for show. But in her face he saw sunshine and laughter, and a wicked gleam of mischief. Somehow the sun was in his eyes, and when the photographer called, ‘Just one kiss,’ he bent his head instinctively and laid his lips on hers.

To Meryl the feel of his mouth was a shock. The kiss was like the man himself, firm, unyielding, intensely masculine. It invited her on and warned her off, and she felt herself helplessly accepting the invitation and ignoring the warning. She’d wanted this-only now did she know how much-and she wasn’t giving up now. It was her moment of triumph, and she was completely overcome, defeated, conquered, routed and exhilarated.

‘Jarvis.’ She barely knew that she spoke his name, but somehow her lips moved enticingly against his, and his own answered with purpose. His arms tightened around her, so that she had no choice but to melt against him while the world dissolved into nothing.

For a long moment neither of them moved, while the photographer danced about gleefully getting shot after shot until he finally yelled, ‘OK, that’s lovely.’

She felt the world come back into place, a subtly different shape.

Jarvis lifted his head just enough to see her face and know that she was as stunned as himself. Her eyes, raised to his, were vulnerable, giving him a silent message that he wanted to hear. If they’d been alone…

Don’t you realise that she has to bring every man to heel?

The voice in his head was so real that he almost thought Sarah was there. Then the mist cleared and he was saying goodbye to the press as though nothing had happened. But everything had happened. Everything that mustn’t happen had happened. And it was too late to stop it.

‘I’ll see you inside,’ he said curtly, and strode away.

‘Will you be needing the car, or can I take it?’ Meryl asked next morning.

‘You don’t need to ask,’ Jarvis said politely. ‘You bought it.’

‘But if I’d used it without checking with you, you’d have thought me very rude,’ she pointed out. ‘I can’t win, can I?’

Jarvis ran his hand through his hair. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said sincerely. ‘I don’t know what’s happened to my manners.’

In fact, it wasn’t his manners that had deserted him, but his wits. And they’d all gone a-wandering from the moment he kissed her. He might try to deny the truth to himself, but it was hard when, as now, she reminded him that he could hurt her. And even harder when she said gently, ‘Try not to resent me so much, Jarvis.’

‘Nonsense,’ he said quickly. ‘Of course I don’t.’ To make amends he asked, ‘Do you want me to come with you?’

‘No, thank you. I’m going to meet Benedict at the airport.’

He’d half stretched his hand out to her, but he drew it back again.

A few minutes later she left. Jarvis summoned Andrew Carver for a meeting to discuss his changed circumstances, and in that way he managed not to follow her with his thoughts.

If Larry Rivers caused interest, Benedict Steen was a sensation. It was late afternoon when they arrived, and as he jumped down from the heavy vehicle the sun caught his thick fair hair, giving him the look of a young Greek god. Together he and Meryl made a glorious couple as she seized his arm excitedly and they went, laughing, into the castle.

Hannah bustled forward to offer him refreshment. Jarvis, who’d watched his arrival from an upper window, took his time about descending.

When he finally did his duty it was to find his library strewn with the most gorgeous white fabrics, silks, satin, brocades. Hannah was gazing admiringly at Meryl, who stood wrapped in a swathe of glittering material. It had tiny flashing jewels sewn all over it, and even Jarvis, who knew ‘sweet Fanny Adams’ about fashion, could see the staggering luxury.

‘It would be fantastic with this to hold the veil in place,’ Benedict said, opening a black box and revealing a magnificent diamond tiara. ‘You must look like a goddess,’ he declared expansively. ‘When you walk down the aisle your diamonds will glitter, your dress will sweep out, and your veil will stream behind you-’

Jarvis coughed. They all turned to look at him.

‘I’m sorry, I was detained,’ he said politely.

Meryl tossed aside her finery. ‘Jarvis, this is my friend Benedict, who’s making my wedding dress.’

Jarvis said what was proper, but he was studying the young man with disfavour. As Larry had said, Benedict had the looks of a film star. He was almost tall enough to look Jarvis in the eye. His shoulders were wide, his skin tanned, his mouth finely chiselled and his eyes deep blue and expressive.

And this was the man that Meryl valued at millions, plus enduring a charade of marriage with another man. What, apart from his looks, did Benedict Steen have to make a level-headed woman-?

But this wasn’t a level-headed woman. This was Meryl, who flew off to challenge a stranger at a moment’s notice, who nearly got herself drowned and laughed it off, who scribbled all over her hand and had windmills in her head. If anybody needed protecting, she did. But who would protect her from Benedict Steen?

If it came to that, who would protect her from himself?

He kept this first meeting as short as was compatible with courtesy, informed them that he would see them at dinner, and hurried away to call Ferdy and demand his presence, and Sarah’s, that evening. He didn’t feel that he could endure it alone.

Everyone dressed for dinner, which was in the great dining room. This was Larne at its grandest, with walls covered with weapons in circular patterns, armour at every corner, the walls bearing portraits of Larne ancestors.

Benedict was in seventh heaven. ‘Such splendour! This is what I want to convey in the dress. I saw the grand staircase in the hall. Tomorrow, Meryl, I must see you sweep down it.’

Jarvis caught Ferdy’s hilarious expression and his lips twitched. He would have shared the joke with Sarah too, but somehow his eyes met Meryl’s instead and he realised that she too was amused at Benedict’s expense.

She looked glorious in a gown that he would have described as ‘something floaty in green and blue’ but which was actually one of Benedict’s most delicate creations in silk chiffon. All Jarvis could say for certain was that it enhanced the colour of her eyes in a way that made him watch her closely. Sarah had to speak to him twice before he noticed her.

It made a pleasant start to the evening, but from then on he grew more depressed. Benedict turned out to be the perfect dinner companion, able to listen to others with interest, and to talk knowledgeably on a variety of subjects. He was witty and charming, instantly at ease with Ferdy, and even making the severe Sarah laugh at his jokes.

With Meryl his manner was theatrically flirtatious. He kissed her hand, he praised her beauty, he called her ‘goddess’. But he didn’t actually do anything to which her fiancé could object without looking absurd. Confound him!

Then he remembered that Steen was her true fiancé. He could gather her into his arms without having to release her just when he wanted to explore further…

‘You’re knocking it back a bit, aren’t you?’ Ferdy muttered in his ear.

‘I beg your pardon?’

‘You don’t usually drink so much. I hope it’s going to be Seth who ferries us over tonight. I’m not sure how steady your hand is.’

‘Seth’s gone to bed,’ Jarvis growled. ‘You’ll have to take your chance with me.’

‘And leave your bride entertaining another man?’ Ferdy observed with a grin.

‘You can swim if you like,’ Jarvis told him in a low, savage voice.

‘Either way I think it’s time we were going,’ Ferdy said.

It took Jarvis half an hour to deliver his guests on the shore and return with the boat. Meryl and Benedict were nowhere to be seen. Climbing the stairs in search of them, Jarvis heard voices coming from behind Meryl’s door, and a moment later the door opened and Benedict emerged, closing it behind him.