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She winced. ‘I think I should,’ she replied. ‘You need to get back to your life.’ She managed a small smile. ‘You also need to start socialising again, looking for the next MsWrong.’

Troyden pulled a face. ‘I’m not going to lie, but my life has been remarkably peaceful lately without one.’ He narrowed his eyes at her. ‘Do not tell my kids that!’

Eden grinned. ‘I won’t.’ She wrinkled her nose, wondering how to tell him that she was moving on before she got too comfortable, before this felt too much like home.

If she settled in here, if she came to rely on Troyden, on the friendship she was building with Mick, and was made to leave– the Bancroft saga was a sword hanging over her head– she’d set herself up to be emotionally eviscerated.

She needed to protect herself by distancing herself from Elmsleigh House and its residents.

‘My ten days are up, and I was planning to explore Croatia,’ she said. Her enthusiasm to do that was not overflowing. ‘I’m thinking about… I’m leaving tomorrow.’ That sounded convincing. Not.

Troyden briefly squeezed her shoulder. ‘Do whatever you want to do, Eden. You’re always welcome here, I hope you know that.’

Troyden, somehow, knew what to say to make her feel most at ease, so Eden nodded her thanks, and uncharacteristically for her, slipped her hand through the crook of his elbow as they walked to the practice field.

Elmsleigh would always be here… That was a lovely thought. But after the Bancroft scandal broke, after Troyden and the clan discovered that she was the one who blew up their friends’ lives, would she be welcomed back? She doubted it.

No, it was better that she left. Her two weeks here was a step out of time, a lovely sojourn away from her normal, too-solitary life. But it wasn’t real, and it definitely wasn’t sustainable.

Troyden veered off and Eden jammed her hands in the back pockets of her jeans, enjoying the sun on her bare shoulders. She should’ve put sunblock on and knew she would curse her new freckles in the morning. But she didn’t care enough to turn back and make the trek back up to her second-floor suite.

‘Eden!’

While Troyden walked in the opposite direction, Eden watched Mick emerge from a small wood, behind which she knew were the cottages where Troyden’s stepchildren lived.

She smiled as she took in Mick’s kids; Liam was dressed in gum boots, swim shorts and had a cape hanging from his neck.

He also wore dark, wraparound sunglasses.

Gemma, wearing shorts and a t-shirt, carefully cradled a tiny marmalade-coloured kitten to her chest.

They reached her and Eden immediately bent to scratch the too-cute kitten behind its tiny ears. ‘Oh, he’s gorgeous, Gemma. Or is it a she?’

‘We have no idea,’ Mick cheerfully replied.

‘Aren’t you a doctor?’ Eden asked, amused. Mick, once again, wore ripped denim cut-offs, another oversized men’s shirt knotted at her waist, and her feet shoved into battered leather flip-flops.

‘I’m a human doctor and can tell the difference between a penis and a vulva. Kitten bits are a bit more complicated,’ Mick explained, taking a sip from her travel cup. ‘To be fair, I could work it out but it’s low on my list of things to do.’

Mick was busy, so Eden understood why it would be. Eden looked at her travel cup, and sighed. ‘I wish I’d thought to bring a cup of coffee on my walk,’ Eden said, sending it a wistful look.

‘Coffee?’ Mick hooted. ‘I’m a single mum, it’s past five and it’s wine time. Chardonnay, darling.’

Okay, then.

They started to walk down the road to the paddocks, with Liam running ahead pretending he was a superhero and Gemma carrying her precious cargo.

‘Actually,’ Mick said, sliding her arm through Eden’s, ‘I’m so glad I ran into you.

I was going to come up to the house later to check on you, but thought I’d let the kids run off some energy. It’s been a week for them. And me.’

Eden knew there had been an outbreak of a stomach flu, and that both kids had been sick for twenty-four hours. Mick had been run off her feet dealing with her kids and the sick villagers. Mick lifted her mug to her mouth and then offered it to Eden. ‘Have a slug, you look like you need it.’

Eden lifted the mug to her mouth and then hesitated. ‘Any chance of me catching the stomach bug?’

‘Doubt it,’ Mick replied. ‘We were all sick a couple of days ago. Viruses are pansy-ass weaklings; they generally die off quite quickly.’

She was the doctor, so Eden took a healthy glug of the wine, enjoying the way it slid over her tongue and down her throat. ‘How’s your allergy?’ Mick asked.

Eden shrugged. ‘It seems to be okay. I think the daily antihistamine is working. I haven’t been to the stables, but I’ve been going down to the practice field to see how I do in the open air around horses.’

And yeah, she also wanted to see Jed. He was a cynical jerk, but she could still admire the very sexy package that made up the man. There was nothing wrong with a little window shopping. She had no intention of trying him on for size or taking him home.

Eden heard her phone buzz, pulled it out and looked at the message. It was from Troyden.

Eden, love, am heading back to the house, I think I’ve picked up that stomach virus that’s going around. Do you mind an evening on your own?

Mick, who had no concept of privacy, peered at her phone. ‘Dammit!’

She pulled her phone out of her back pocket and phoned her dad.

Eden listened to her side of the conversation: Troyden didn’t have a fever, he didn’t think, but was nauseous and had stomach cramps, and felt very, very tired.

After telling him that she’d check on him in a little while, Mick disconnected the call and wrinkled her nose.

‘He’ll be fine in twenty-four hours,’ she said. ‘Listen, it’s Di’s night off so come for supper. We’re having lasagna, super relaxed, super informal.’

‘I don’t want to intrude…’

Oh, she so did, because she didn’t want to spend her last night at Elmsleigh on her own. Weird, because being alone was something she excelled at.

‘It’s lasagna, Eden, not a business meeting.’

‘Okay, that sounds lovely. Can I bring something?’

‘Maybe a bottle of red?’ Mick suggested. ‘And for God’s sake, don’t buy one, nick one from the wine cellar. The cheap, supposed-to-be-drunk bottles are on the left. Troyden’s precious bottles, supposed to be kept until he is ten minutes from dead, are on the right.’

Right. No, left, the cheap bottles were on the left. ‘Are you sure he wouldn’t mind?’ Eden asked.

‘He’d be annoyed if you didn’t,’ Mick told her, sounding cheerful. ‘Come up at about six, the second to last cottage on the left.’

Wait, wasn’t her cottage the second on the left? Isn’t that what she said the first night they met? ‘I thought your cottage?—’

‘Gem, you’re holding your kitten too tightly,’ Mick interrupted her. ‘She looks a little hot and bothered.’

Since the kitten was fast asleep, neither she nor Gemma knew what Mick was going on about.

‘Mum, chill,’ Gemma retorted as they approached the long field where four riders, including Jed, all dressed in jodhpurs, knee pads and a variety of shirts, cantered up and down the field, swinging their mallets and hitting a ball.

She followed Mick to the pole fence and watched as she elegantly climbed to sit on the top rail.

How she did it one-handed, Eden didn’t know.

Eden followed her up, far less gracefully, and took the kitten Gemma handed to her.

It was still asleep, and she stroked its nose with one finger.

‘He seems to like you.’

The deep, growly voice created fireworks on her skin, and Eden looked up to see Jed sitting on a cocoa-coloured pony, his big hands holding the reins lightly.

Beneath his helmet, his hair was damp with sweat and light stubble covered his cheeks and jaw.

His honey-coloured eyes glowed between sooty eyelashes and against his tanned face.

He smelled of horses and hay and sunshine…

Eden released a sneeze that started in her toes and rocketed up out of her body. Another one chased it, and she sneezed again, louder than before.

The kitten raised its head, gave her a filthy look for being disturbed and dug its tiny, but sharp claws into her skin. Ouch.

‘Antihistamines not working then?’ Jed asked, his deep voice rolling over her. She narrowed her eyes at his smug tone.

‘Maybe I’m not allergic to horses; maybe I’m allergic to you,’ she shot back, blinking her watering eyes.

‘I’ve never had that effect on a woman before,’ Jed replied.

‘I’m sure that’s what the first man who passed on syphilis said as well.’ Eden took the crumpled tissue Mick offered her and, with the fleeting hope it was clean, wiped her nose. She waved her hand at Jed and his pretty horse, who seemed to be doing the salsa. ‘Can you please back up a bit?’

Jed and the horse pulled back a yard or two and Eden drew in a deep breath.

She looked down at her arms, didn’t see any spots and realised that her eyes weren’t watery.

The pills were working. Damn that she was allergic to horses, as she would like nothing more than to stroke that velvety head, to rest her forehead against that dark, rich neck.

The pony’s or Jed’s? Either would be good.

God, what was wrong with her? Why was she thinking of Jed as someone she’d like to get to know up close and very personal? He had a smart mouth and was as annoying as a persistent mosquito, but he had the body of an athlete, muscular and graceful.

She was just reacting as any normal woman would when a good-looking specimen crossed her path. Females of every species wanted to give their offspring good, strong genes so it made sense that pretty boys– men !– turned heads.

It was nature, and impossible to fight.