“Well, we don’t stand on any ceremony here, my dear,” Hamish stated, stretching his long legs to the fire.

It was a pleasant evening and Petra felt herself relaxing into the easy friendliness of the Brandons. Guy, too, seemed to lose the sharp edges that she had assumed were always a part of who he was. He laughed a lot, teased his sister, and kept Petra close to his side, ensuring she had everything she wanted at dinner, partnering her in the rubber of bridge they played afterward. Petra was glad, however, that she was a relatively strong player when she saw how competitive Guy and Elinor were, and how very seriously Hamish took the game.

The evening broke up quite early with Guy and Hamish set to go shooting at dawn the next morning. “I’m not an early riser, Petra,” Elinor said, kissing her sister-in-law good night on the landing outside the guests’ bedroom. “So ring for breakfast if you’d like it in your room, otherwise it’ll be laid out in the small dining room behind the front parlor. You remember where that is?”

“Yes, I think I’ll be able to find my way. If I get lost I’m sure someone will show me.” Petra lifted her face for Hamish’s peck on the cheek. “Good night, and thank you for a lovely evening.”

The bedroom was a warm haven, curtains drawn across the casements but pulled back around the bed. Gas lamps were turned low on the mantel above the fireplace where a log fire burned, throwing out welcome warmth to combat the chilly draft that needled its way around the window.

“It gets cold at night up here,” Guy said. “Whatever the time of year.” He shrugged out of his tweed jacket before turning to Petra with a wicked glint in his eye. “Allow me to play lady’s maid, madam.”

Petra submitted to his deft hands as he undressed her. His hands didn’t linger over their task and yet somehow always managed to touch, to brush, to smooth a particular spot on her tingling skin that brought a jolt of arousal deep in her belly. “There,” he said finally, wrapping her in a velvet dressing gown. “You won’t get cold now.” He put his hands on her shoulders and turned her toward the bathroom. “Be quick in there. And leave me some hot water.”

Petra obeyed the little push and went into the small antechamber where two jugs of hot water steamed on the dresser. “There’s plenty here,” she called, filling the basin and dipping a face cloth into the water, burying her face in its scented warmth. Her toiletries had been unpacked during the evening and she unpinned her hair, taking up her ivory-backed brush, pulling it vigorously through the rich copper mass until it shone in the soft lamplight.