Angie blinked with confusion, her brow furrowing. “As you wish.”

Selena made her way to the stairs, climbing them for what would be the very last time. Her body didn’t seem to know what her mind realized because it began growing warm as though heated by a sensual flush. Yearning swept through her. The desire she’d always longed for was now a burden, but still she regretted not a single touch, not a single moment that had taught her about the fire that could truly burn between a man and a woman.

At the top of the stairs, she skirted the edge of the hallway until she reached his rooms. Removing the key from her reticule, she unlocked the door and crossed over the threshold, inhaling deeply the fragrance of Aiden, allowing it to fill her lungs, to penetrate her blood, to inhabit her once more.

A solitary lit lamp on the table near the window, the table that had once been covered in white linen and displayed strawberries, held enough shadows at bay that she was able to walk into his bedchamber. The bed was neatly made, and she had a strong urge to muss it up, to see it in disarray as it had been so many times in the past.

Carefully on a pillow, she placed the package containing the fine leather gloves she’d purchased that afternoon. On top of that she laid his key. They would greet Aiden when he was ready to lay down his head, which no doubt wouldn’t be for several more hours.

That task done, she had no reason to stay. Still she lingered, glancing around and memorizing what she already knew by heart: the bureau where she had retrieved his neck cloths in order to bind him, the drawer of the night table where he housed the sheaths he kept on hand to protect women from an unwanted pregnancy, the chair where she had sat and watched him nurse his mother back to health. Everything in his life served a purpose. No clutter, no fanciful knickknacks. Nothing to remind him of her, except for the paintings he stored in the attic.

She debated whether she should take the gloves with her, but in the end left them where they lay.

Exiting the room, heading for the door, she glanced over at the fireplace and paused. She hadn’t given it any notice when she’d first walked in, her focus on delivering her gift and the key.

With her heart hammering, she went to the table, picked up the lamp, and lifted it higher, throwing its glow over the gilt-framed painting hanging over the mantel. Slowly she approached, her chest tightening with each step.