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Except Tia knew it wouldn’t be sensible. At least, not if their kiss was anything to go by. It was going to be wild, uncontrolled, animalistic passion and she couldn’t freaking wait.

Unfortunately, by the time they returned to the house, everyone was awake, and breakfast was served. Any plans of sneaking upstairs to their room unobserved had to wait.

The attitude was surprisingly chipper, given how much they’d all drunk. Tia had expected at least one hair of the dog or hangover. Evidently, they could all handle their liquor.

Conversation was kept to uncontroversial subjects, but all Tia could think about was the agreement she’d forged with Hamish and the question of when they’d get to put their new deal into practice.

Unfortunately, Eleanor seemed to have decided to unknowingly thwart them at every turn.

“Hamish, darling, I’m going to need your help this morning with some estate business.” She’d turned apologetically to Tia. “Rupert has no head for business, so I do all that. Well, with my sons’ help.”

Only, she might have been referring to both sons helping, but it was clearly Hamish’s assistance she desired above Ewan’s. She saw the other man’s brow beetle, his cheeks flush pink, and Cressida reached out to put a hand over his. Interesting.

“Cressie, I thought you might take Tia into town, show her the shops.”

Cressida looked stricken. Tia should have enjoyed that, and should absolutely have made it worse by saying how wonderful that would be, but the other woman’s look of abject horror had sympathy spreading through Tia. “Actually, I have some work I need to catch up on. I should still be able to catch my Tokyo team before the office closes.”

“How many people work for you, Tia?” Rupert asked, shovelling hard-boiled egg into his mouth, little white crumbs forming on his top lip. He wiped them with a crisp linen napkin.

“I’m very selective,” she explained. “I have about two hundred agents globally, and a support team of around three times that.”

Rupert let out a low whistle. “That’s impressive, isn’t it, son?” he jabbed Ewan good-naturedly in the ribs, so Tia wondered if at some point Rupert had started to lobotomise himself with alcohol. Because surely he couldn’t be this obtuse and oblivious to the undercurrents of tension ricocheting through the room?

“Yes.” Ewan made a stab at politeness for the sake of social convention. His tight smile followed suit. “Very.”

Cressida dropped her fork loudly onto her plate. “Excuse me,” she murmured, standing. “I need a coffee.”

More sympathy tightened inside of her. She glanced at Hamish but he wasn’t paying attention. Well, at least that was something. Maybe his ‘knight in shining armour’ tendencies for Cressida were fading?

“Benson will get it, Cressie.”

“It’s fine,” she responded tightly, leaving the room.

Ewan cast Tia a frustrated glance and that Hamish noticed. He’d apparently stopped staring into space long enough to remember where they were.

“She can’t help being perfect,” Hamish said, glancing at his contracted wife, and to Tia’s surprise Hamish laughed. “You honestly look fit to burst, Ewan.”

“Oh, fuck you and your smug head. Why don’t you just piss off back to America?”

Tia startled. She stared from one brother to the other, not having expected it to get quite so heated quite so fast.

Ewan stood. “Tia, I’m sorry. This really isn’t about you.”

Tia frowned. “It feels…a little about me,” she said, and beneath the table she weaved her fingers through Hamish’s, not sure if she was giving or taking strength. Perhaps both. Maybe that’s the way good partnerships worked? It was a spectrum with an ever-moving needle, changing depending on who required what and when.

“It’s about him bringing you here the first time he’s been back in years. When our mother has goddamn cancer,” he roared the last sentence.

Hamish’s face barely flinched. He wasn’t smug—at all. Hamish was humble and ridiculously generous. Kind. But she could see how a younger brother—shorter, less attractive, less successful, and never destined to inherit the title or the home, might perceive his controlled reactions to things as smugness.

For Tia, it was perfection. Predictable, calm, reliable. They were the hottest traits she’d ever known in a man. In fact, she wasn’t sure she’d ever met someone with the same self-control she possessed.

As if to illustrate that, Hamish calmly fixed his brother with a determined stare. “Tia is my wife. She will be the mother of my children. I know that’s hard for you to hear right now, and I understand, but it’s a reality you’re going to need to accept.”

Ewan’s mouth tightened.

“Or you can leave.”

The words were delivered with finality.