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thing, isn’t it?’
    He felt his loins begin to ache. Rhiannon had that effect on him. He stared at her, trying to analyse what it was about her that he needed. He felt affection for her, but not love. And she didn’t make him feel ten feet tall the way Katie Cullen did.
    Rhiannon was lovely to look at even now, in her plain gown, the fullness of her breasts emphasized by her tiny waist. But she was a camp woman. She had been a camp woman when he met her and she had never pretended to be anything else. He wondered how many men she had slept with. She was only about twenty-two, with a fine skin browned by the sun and dark hair twisted into a bun at the nape of her neck, but she had lived life to the full.
    â€˜Why are you lookin’ at me like that, Bull?’ Her eyes slanted up at him. ‘Fancyin’ a bit of lovin’, are you, boy?’
    â€˜Aye, but I’ve got work to do.’ He rested his hand on her shoulder.
    â€˜What – now? It’s getting late, Bull, time you came home with me and let me look after you – like a wife would.’
    Bull looked up at the dying sun, at the red seeping among the clouds that threatened more rain. More time lost, more days to spend living rough in a shed at the side of the track. ‘Don’t say that, Rhiannon.’
    She hugged his arm. ‘I don’t really want to be your wife, I’m happy as I am.’ But she was lying, and they both knew it.
    â€˜Go on you, make a brew and I’ll get back as soon as I’ve finished here.’ He needed to talk to the engineer: the next consignment of sleepers, bolts and screws had not been delivered, and no man could build a railway without the right tools. And later, when it was supper-time at the Big House, he would be seeing Katie again.
    He found Cookson seated in the public bar of the Castle. The inn was crowded with navvies, and thick smoke filled the room, hanging like a pall over the heads of the drinkers.
    â€˜Something wrong?’ The engineer indicated a chair. ‘Sit down and talk, man, I don’t like the look on your face.’
    â€˜I need supplies.’ Bull sat opposite Cookson, aware of the other’s fine clothes, the crisp linen and good leather boots he wore. He rubbed his calloused hands along his moleskin trousers and vowed that one day he, too, would dress in fine clothes.
    â€˜I know, and I’m making enough noise about them to wake the dead.’ Cookson smoothed his beard. ‘The materials are on their way, that’s all I can say.’ He waved to the landlord. ‘I’ll get you a beer. It’s time you relaxed a bit, man.’
    Bull sank back in his seat. Cookson was right: he needed respite like everyone else. He closed his eyes briefly and a vision of the little Irish girl flashed into his mind.
    â€˜Evenin’, sir, Bull.’
    Bull looked up to see Dan O’Connor standing beside him. ‘Won’t take up much of your time. I jest wanted to say you did good to stop the men fussin’ that little girl. She was so frightened she was run over by a carriage, wasn’t she?’
    Bull frowned. ‘It’s no thanks to your brother that she wasn’t killed. Your Seth was disrespectful to her, and if he acts like that again he’ll find himself out of a job.’
    â€˜I know, and that’s why I’m offerin’ an apology, see? Seth don’t mean no harm – it’s just that the drink runs away with what little sense he’s got.’ He touched his forelock to Cookson. ‘Sorry to take up your time, sir, but I jest needed to have me say.’
    When Dan had gone Cookson leaned forward in his seat. ‘I don’t know what he was referring to but I do know some of these navvies can’t behave properly around a decent woman.’
    â€˜It was a young Irish girl, sir, Katie Cullen, sweet little thing, but no real harm done, I assure you.’
    â€˜And that’s