Guy came back within fifteen minutes, relaxed in a velvet smoking jacket with wide silk lapels. He carried a tray with an ice bucket and fluted glasses, which he set aside before bending to kiss her. His skin, freshly shaved, smelled of citrus cologne. “Champagne, my love?”

“Please.” She watched as he deftly twisted the cork and filled the fluted goblets with the pale pink bubbles. Guy knew how much she enjoyed pink champagne.

Guy sat beside her on the sofa, giving her one glass before taking a sip from his own. He lifted her chin with a forefinger and kissed her, the cool bubbles of wine sliding from his mouth into hers. It was the most delicious feeling and Petra almost laughed with delight as the effervescence slid over her tongue.

“That’s a most novel way to drink wine,” she said. “Let me do it to you.” She took a sip from her own glass, then moved her mouth to his, her lips parting as she kissed him. Guy moved his free hand to cup the back of her head, holding her steady as his tongue moved inside her mouth, tasting the inside of her cheeks, running over her teeth, exploring the sweet wine-infused cavern. A knock at the door brought them both upright. Petra felt her cheeks warm and flushed. She lifted the book from her lap and buried her head in it. Guy laughed softly and bade the knocker enter.

“May we set the table for dinner, my lady?” a parlor maid inquired, holding an armful of table linen.

“Yes, yes, of course,” Petra managed from behind her book. She could feel Guy’s quiver of laughter as he sat so close to her and struggled to contain her own.

Guy moved to the far side of the sofa and pointedly crossed his legs, taking a sip of champagne before reaching for a copy of the Gazette on the side table.

The parlor maid spread the snowy cloth on a gate-legged table and folded the napkins while a footman came in with a tray of cutlery. They worked swiftly and silently, while Petra and Guy sat seemingly absorbed in their reading matter side by side on the sofa.

“Are you ready for the soup, my lady?”

“Yes, thank you.” Petra lifted her head from her book as the door closed behind the servants. “We’d better eat soon,” she said. “Otherwise . . .”

“Otherwise, you wicked woman, I shall have no choice but to ravish you right here and now and to hell with dinner,” Guy stated. “What do you do to me, Petra . . . you leave me with no willpower at all.”

“Oh, I like the idea of being ravished,” Petra said with a grin. “Is that a promise for later?”