Guy looked at her in puzzlement. “But my dear girl, I was twenty-four, having a few weeks in the country. I had spent a year touring Europe after coming down from Oxford, and was starting to think about what I was going to do in the real world. You surely couldn’t have thought that I’d stay rusticating in Somerset.”

Petra sipped her cognac. She had had enough of the conversation, all it was doing was making her mortification even worse. Of course she’d believed he would stay throughout that summer, how could he not? He was in love with her, as she’d thought, until he disappeared and she understood that love hadn’t come anywhere near what he’d felt for her, if indeed he’d felt anything.

“I don’t know what I thought. But as far as I’m concerned you led me to trust you and I was too much of a simpleton to realize that you were simply amusing yourself.” She uncurled from the sofa and crossed to the sideboard to refill her glass.

“Then I can only say how sorry I am,” Guy said slowly. “I promise you it was never my intention to hurt you. I still don’t quite understand. . . .” He let the words fade, realizing that they were only going to make things worse.

She shrugged, turning toward him with the decanter raised in mute invitation. Despite the dismissive shrug, Guy saw the stricken vulnerability in her hazel eyes, the remembered pain of a long-ago hurt. Impulsively he set down his glass, crossed to her in two long strides. He took the decanter from her and replaced it on the sideboard. “I am so sorry,” he murmured, running a finger across her lips before lowering his head and brushing light kisses on her eyelids. He caressed the curve of her cheek, then lifted her chin on his forefinger.

Petra was frozen, she wanted to slap his hands away, thrust him from her, and yet she couldn’t seem to make the necessary moves. His mouth touched hers, gently at first, his tongue tasting her lips. And when she didn’t object the kiss became stronger, more demanding. He wasn’t holding her, except for the fingertip beneath her chin. The slightest move would put distance between them and yet she couldn’t make that move. Until abruptly she took control of herself and moved her head sideways, breaking the contact.

Guy raised his head, a smile playing over his mouth. “Just as sweet and delicious as I remember.” He reached for her hand, enclosing it between his palms, twining his fingers with hers, saying with a wickedly inviting smile, “All-grown-up Petra . . . I can’t think why I’ve allowed you to drift out of my life, but I intend to make up for lost time.” He touched his lips to the corner of her mouth. “Will you have dinner with me on Wednesday?”