“Stay,” she whispered. She pushed away all thoughts of how wrong her invitation was. The chances of her marrying anyone were slim, and she didn’t doubt that Whitmore would leave her again. This might be the last moment she would ever be alone with him.

The old feelings of unrequited love threatened to bury her. In her girlish dreams, she’d hoped that one day they might marry. And though he’d never spoken a word of his own feelings, she’d known they had friendship.

They still did. For tonight, it was enough.

He crossed the room to stand before her. A thin sheen of sweat lined his skin, and he’d loosened his cravat. His steel-gray eyes bore into hers. “I can’t stay with you, and you know it.”

“I’ve been alone for so long,” she whispered. “I don’t want you to go.”

Emily didn’t speak of the feelings she’d locked away, deep inside. If she did, she might break apart. Right now, she was offering herself to him, hoping he wouldn’t abandon her. There would be no other man for her, not at her age. She would never know what it was to lose herself in a man’s touch, to yield beneath his body and unlock the mysteries of taking a lover.

But honor shielded him. He wouldn’t touch her as long as he believed he was taking something away from her. Didn’t he know he was granting her a gift?

She took his hands and brought them to the front of her gown. She’d had to alter this dress, sewing the buttons down the front since she had no ladies’ maid to help her. Stephen’s gaze was unrelenting, his eyes burning into hers. “You owe me nothing, Emily.”

“Show me what it would have been like,” she whispered, “if your father hadn’t taken you away from me.” Though it went against everything she’d been taught, she wanted a memory that would last for always.

His mouth drifted against hers in a kiss that was hardly there. She unbuttoned her own gown, placing his hands upon her chemise. His hands curved over the damp fabric, and when he encountered no barrier, he demanded, “Why aren’t you wearing a corset?”

“I’ve no one to help me dress. It was impossible to put on by myself.” Her cheeks grew warm with the confession, but his palm reached out to cup her breast. His thumb stroked the erect tip through the fabric, caressing her as he had that night in the barn. A flood of rich pleasure welled up inside her, and she found herself reaching for his shirt, lifting away the cambric.

His chest was broad and muscled, his firm shoulders ridged with a quiet strength. She laid her palms over his heartbeat, wishing she could make him feel the same longing she was feeling.