Petra nodded, swallowed, and left her childhood bedroom to descend the stairs to the great hall where the wedding guests were assembled. Her husband stood at the foot of the stairs. He held out his hand as she reached the bottom step and raised her gloved hand to his lips, his dark gaze seeming to swallow her whole. There were moments when the power of his full attention, the all-encompassing sweep of his gaze almost frightened her. It was as if she could lose herself in him, lose her sense of who she was, the hard contours of herself in the world as she knew it.

“Come, madam wife,” he said softly. “Let us go home.”

They left the overheated hall and stepped out into the late afternoon. The house stood on a cliff overlooking a bay on the mouth of the Severn River and the sea breeze was brisk and salt laden. Petra shivered.

“Don’t worry, I have fur wraps in the motor,” Guy said. “You’ll warm up soon enough.”

Petra looked at the bright red motor car standing in the driveway, a uniformed chauffeur holding the door. Its engine was already running. “I’ve never ridden in one of those.”

“You’ll enjoy it,” he said confidently. “Your brother approves.”

“Jonathan would,” she replied, before stepping into the vehicle.

Guy reached into the dickey and pulled out a fur wrap. “Snuggle up in this.” He placed it over her shoulders and threw another one across her lap. “Get in the back, Johnson, I’ll drive,” he instructed the chauffeur as he climbed behind the wheel.

Johnson inserted himself onto the dickey seat and the car moved away down the drive, wedding guests waving them off from the front steps.

“How long will it take to get home in this?” Petra inquired, snuggling deeper into the fur wrap.

“Ten miles, less than an hour,” Guy replied. “It’ll be drafty along the cliff road, but a lot quicker than a horse and carriage. Try to enjoy it, sweetheart.”

To her surprise, Petra found it remarkably easy to enjoy the drive. The wind was certainly cold but she pulled the fur up to her ears and settled back to watch the coastline unfurl in front of them. The journey passed in a companionable silence, but when Guy turned the motor inland, just before they reached the seaside town of Weston-super-Mare, Petra felt anticipation creeping over her, making her skin tingle and her heart beat a little faster. She glanced sideways at Guy and saw that he was smiling faintly as he kept his eyes on the narrow road.

“What will we do when we get home?” she asked, watching his expression.

“Oh, a little of this, a little of that,” he answered casually, but his smile broadened. “What would you like to do, bride of mine?”

She smiled and snuggled deeper into her fur. “Oh, a little of this, a little of that.”

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Seventeen