“I’d forgotten what it was like,” he murmured against her face, even as his hands poised at the buttons of her gown. When he realized where his hands were, he took a step back. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.”

She didn’t know what to say. Her mouth was swollen, her body alive and tingling. The desperation of her circumstances, and the heartbreak still frozen inside made her uneasy.

“Emily.” His use of her name was intimate and rough. “I didn’t come here for this. I came to look after you.”

“I know it.” She crossed her arms, drawing his coat around her. All of a sudden, she felt the cold, the dreariness of the house. For a single moment, he’d made her forget her loneliness and how awful it was living here.

Whitmore seemed lost in thought, as though deciding what to do. From the intensity on his face, she knew she’d affected him just as strongly.

“I’ll—I’ll prepare something for us to eat,” she said at last. “You can try to build a fire to warm the house.”

But Stephen caught her arm, refusing to let her go. His gray eyes stared into hers, his gaze penetrating. “You need someone to take you away from this place. You’re a baron’s daughter, not a scullery maid.”

Bittersweet feelings tightened her throat, and she willed herself not to let the tears fall. “I’m more of a servant than you’d know.”

Chapter Three

Stephen made several trips up to her bedchamber, his arms loaded with wood. Emily was downstairs in the kitchen, preparing a meal for them with God only knew what. He wasn’t sure if she was planning to spin straw into bread, but perhaps by some miracle his coachman would return to the house with supplies. From the way the weather had worsened, it seemed unlikely.

He dumped the last of the wood on the hearth, using the physical labor to distract himself from thinking about their kiss earlier. Try as he might, he couldn’t forget the sweet surrender of her lips beneath his or the way her arms had embraced him. Emily had offered a piece of herself back to him, of the innocent girl who had loved him long ago. And he couldn't deny that he craved her with every breath.

What kind of a man took advantage of a woman living in distress like this? Only a damned reprobate. He wouldn’t let himself fall into temptation again. He’d come here to rescue her, not to ruin her.