It bothered him to see Miss Barrow this destitute. She had the same survival instincts as before, the willingness to roll up her sleeves and do what needed to be done. It appalled him to think of any woman living under those circumstances, especially a spirited one such as her.

Despite her ragged clothing and desperate circumstances, she remained as beautiful as the last day he’d seen her. Her blond hair framed a heart-shaped face with whiskey-brown eyes. The years had given her soft curves and a full mouth.

Damn it all, nothing had changed. He’d stayed away from her for so long, he’d forgotten the way she fired his blood. There was something wild about her, a recklessness that tantalized him. He’d wanted to touch her once again, to taste her bold mouth and…remember what it was like between them.

For the truth was, he still wanted her, even after all these years.

Ten years earlier

Stephen found Emily in his father’s stables on Christmas evening. She wore a faded rose gown, and her blond hair had been scraped into an updo. Her eyes were swollen, and he couldn’t tell how long she’d been crying. A strand of straw stuck out in her hair, marring the silkiness.

Stephen moved to sit beside her on a bale of hay, still wearing black evening attire from dinner earlier. Emily’s skirts were spread out, and the gown was so many years out of fashion, it was likely one she’d inherited from her mother. The square bodice bared her skin, and the light swell of adolescent breasts pushed against the fabric. He jerked his gaze away, knowing he shouldn’t be looking at her in that way.

“I’m sorry,” she muttered, swiping at her eyes. “I didn’t mean to bother you. I just needed to have a good cry.”

“What’s happened?” He drew up a bale of hay closer to her. It didn’t occur to him to worry about propriety or being discovered alone with her. This was Emily, the girl he’d known since he was seven years old.

“It’s foolish, really. I knew there wouldn’t be any presents this morning. But Mother told us to hang up our stockings near the fireplace.” She braved a smile. “They were empty when we woke up, just as I thought they’d be.”

Stephen reached into his pocket for an orange he’d gotten in his own stocking and offered it to her.

“I don’t care about that.” Another tear slid down her cheek, and she sniffled. “But if you could have seen my mother’s face…It broke her heart that she had nothing to give us.”

He put his arm around her shoulders. It wasn’t the first time he’d touched her, but this time, Emily stiffened. “I didn’t come here for your pity.”