SWINDON, APRIL 1st, 1872
We pull apart, staring at each other with wide eyes. Seven blazes. In the next moment, Ezra gently pushes me off him, making me land in the hay silently. He gets up and picks up his shirt, already lacing it up before I even blink.
“Oi! Ezra! Where are you, lad?” someone shouts from below, making me panic. Oh, no. It is one of the workers. What if he comes up and sees me? Or even worse, what if he sees me and runs to the house to tell my aunt about it. I would shake my head at my silliness if I wasn’t frozen in fear. There is no way that would be anyone’s first reaction.
Ezra turns towards me as if sensing my distress. He strides towards me quietly and presses his finger against his lips. In the next moment he leans down, whispering to my ear: “Don’t worry about
