It wasn’t enough. John stood in his doorway and watched Nessa put griddle cakes to cook on a pan over the fire. He thought he had never wanted anything so much in his life as to be able to take her in his arms and tell her what was in his heart. She would think you were mad. She’d be right too. He drank in the sight of her, from the escaping tendrils of hair on her head to the trim, curved figure glimpsed through her gown and her proud stance, never quite forgotten, even when bending over to test each scone for readiness. The sound of footsteps hurrying round the corner of the house broke his reverie. The brother, back from the river. John straightened, deliberately planting a booted foot noisily on the kitchen floor. She turned, smiling a welcome and it was more than he could do to move again. Did she have no idea what her smile did to him? “Mr Reid! You’ve completed your chores then?” “Yes.” He had to clear his throat to speak. “The dogs are settled down for the night,”
