Page 20 of The Cottage at Brambleton Hall

She had shared every place she’d ever lived in. For the first time there wouldn’t be another toothbrush waiting in the bathroom.

‘This is all mine?’

‘Yes. Is it satisfactory?’

‘Oh yes. Thank you. I can make it mine, though?’ she asked. ‘Add a few things?’

‘If you must. Keep it clean,’ he said. ‘The cottage is maintained to the same standard as the main house . . . do not damage anything.’

‘Right. Yes. Obviously. But I can make it mine?’ she pressed.

A slight shift of his eyebrows. ‘Indeed,’ he said. ‘If you must.’

Sammy smiled. ‘I must,’ she said.

‘We begin work at nine . . . Promptly.’

‘Of course.’

He left, shutting the door softly behind him. She peered out of the window – curious to discover which cottage belonged to him, but Magnus strode off back towards the main house.

Time to fetch her car and unpack.

Movement caught her eye. The door to the adjoining cottage opened – the one with the enchanting garden. She dashed outside just as Nate emerged.

‘Hi,’ she said, lifting a hand.

‘Evening,’ he replied. He stooped to pick up a cardboard box of vegetables.

‘You’re next door, then.’

‘Yes.’

‘That’s . . . handy.’

‘Mm.’

‘It’s a lovely place,’ she said. ‘I’m going to make it a proper home.’

He hefted up the box. ‘Just don’t damage anything,’ he said.

‘That seems to be the general message.’

An almost smile, there then gone.

He disappeared inside.

Sammy stared at the closed door. ‘Charming,’ she muttered.

Six

Nate nearly sliced through his thumb. The knife stopped millimetres from skin.

He swore under his breath and set the carrot down. This was getting ridiculous.

He’d spent the entire morning thinking about . . . Sa . . . Miss Jenkins, he corrected himself.

He rinsed a mackerel under a thin stream of cold water, thumb passing once along the skin. Fresh this morning – from a fishing boat in Brambleton Harbour. He set the fish down, reaching for the salt without looking.