He never came back.

Perhaps he'd return tomorrow, but...

No. In all likelihood, he was never coming back.

On the other hand, maybe he never came back because by the time he left Evie's house, it was already too late to start a journey north and they'd probably get no farther than the first tollbooth in Hertfordshire, but...

No. He had no intention of returning, even if it meant breaking his word to her and Lady Cranston. He was that disgusted by Evie's shocking revelation.

Then again, maybe he left because Evie fled the scene. But that was because of Lady Cranston's untimely appearance.

So why didn't he follow Evie upstairs? It wasn't as if he hadn't already been up there. It wasn't as if he hadn't already been in her bedchamber. And it certainly wasn't as if he'd never seen her—

Ah, but that was why he left and never came back.

That was why he wouldn't come back tomorrow, or the day after that, or ever.

He would never finish what he started with her.

These were the thoughts scrambling around the inside of Evie's head all night long, keeping her awake. In the meantime, her insides seemed to have rearranged themselves back into their proper places, for her heart still thudded in the center of her chest, and her stomach growled inches below it. She'd been too queasy to eat a bite of anything after Gareth left, but now that it was past midnight and the entire house, yea, all of London was quiet—everything was quiet, save for her stomach—she was suddenly hungry.

The worst had happened—he finally knew the truth. And she'd never see him again. Yet her heart continued to beat, her lungs still breathed air, and her stomach wouldn't stop growling.

She couldn't do anything about her beating heart and breathing lungs, but she knew what to do about her growling stomach.

She rose from her bed, still feeling wide awake, and groped her way down the back stairs to the deserted kitchen lit only by moonlight streaming through a high window. She opened a cupboard, cringing as it screamed on its hinges. Why couldn't it merely creak as it did in broad daylight?

She found half a loaf of bread and set it on the trestle table, wondering if she should light a candle to find a knife. Of course, that would depend on her finding a candle and the means to light it. She seldom came down here, so she had no idea where things were kept. Finding the bread was only a matter of rare luck—that, and the yeasty smell emanating from the cupboard as she happened to creep by.

She picked up the loaf and studied it in the moonlight, contemplating, pondering, and concluding that no one was here to see her biting into it instead of cutting off a slice. Oh, they'd know in the morning that the bread had been eaten, but with any luck—and she'd already spent what little she had simply on finding the loaf so quickly—they'd assume it was the work of mice.

So why did she hesitate? She was hungry. No one would see her. No one would know. She lifted it to her lips, opened her mouth wide, and with her teeth she tore off a nice big chunk.

"That's what I would do," whispered a deep voice from the shadows.

Evie might have screamed, but for the enormous wad of bread in her mouth. Instead she jumped out of her skin, no doubt leaving all of her internal parts in disarray once more, and she dropped the loaf onto the table. She turned to flee the kitchen when she heard the striking of a match and light flared before her, revealing Gareth.

"I suppose you thought I'd never come back," he said.

Evie stood frozen in her night rail, her eyes wide, and her mouth—well, it wasn't gaping thanks to the bread, but she had a horrible feeling that part of the crust was still hanging over her chin.

"Do finish it. I'll wait," he assured her, as he put the match to a candle at the opposite end of the table. Evie hadn't made it that far into the kitchen.

With her fingers she pushed the remainder of the bread into her mouth and chewed on it as the craziest thought flitted through her head: Now that he had come back, she considered this embarrassing moment even worse than the one when he finally learned the truth about their first encounter.

At last she swallowed and said, "You came back."

He smiled. "Of course I did."

"I thought you never would."

"And I thought you might think that, which is why I'm here now. I thought it best not to wait till morning. I knew you wouldn't be able to sleep."

"Not a wink."

"But I didn't think you'd have an appetite, either. Still, it's a good sign that you do."

"No, the good sign is that you came back. Then you don't despise me for...?"

"Pray, why would I?"

"You don't think I'm a—whatever everyone else would think if they knew?"

He shook his head, still smiling. "No, Evangeline, I don't. I'm glad it was you. I only wish..."

"What?"

"That you wouldn't keep standing at the other end of the table as if you're afraid to come near me."

She was acutely aware of her night rail and the fact she wore nothing else. "For that matter, why are you standing at the far end as if for the same reason?"

"I don't want you to think I'm here to take advantage of you simply because I—well, took advantage of you the first time."

"But do you want to kiss me? And hold me?"

"I do," Gareth said, sounding as if he meant it with all his heart.

Evie dashed the length of the table and into his arms, flinging her own over his broad shoulders as he held her against him, closer than he had in the drawing room earlier today—or was it yesterday now?

She no longer cared. All she cared about now was that Gareth had returned to her.

He stroked her long, loose hair and covered her face with dozens of tiny kisses. "We'll marry, Evangeline," he whispered. "I'll speak to your brother when he returns from Brighton. He doesn't have to know the truth. We'll let him think we met at his wedding, and enjoyed a whirlwind courtship in his absence."

Something about this wasn't right, she thought. But what? It was difficult for her to think clearly now that she was in his arms, now that he was kissing her, stroking her, holding her so close against him that she felt him hardening against her till she longed to throw off her night rail and let him finish what he started that night.

"But you didn't tell me everything about that night, Evangeline. Before Lady Cranston interrupted, I wanted to ask if you liked what happened between us at Madame Delphine's." His green eyes gleamed almost gold in the faint candlelight.

"Oh, I did...until my uncle crashed in on us. I've been longing ever since to know what happens next."

"Shall I show you?"

Her lips found his. "Yes," she murmured against them, as his tongue flicked out to meet hers. "Show me now..."

He slid his hands under her derriere, bunching up the fabric of her night rail as he lifted her and set her on the edge of the trestle table, her legs dangling as he stood between them. He cupped her face in his strong hands, gazing so deeply into her eyes that he almost drew tears from them. Tears of joy.

"I didn't know what I was going to do once I slipped in here," he whispered. "I thought of climbing into your window...or stealing up the staircase to your bedchamber...or just hoping you would come down here because you couldn't sleep and you were hungry...only I didn't think you'd be hungry..." He brought his lips to hers again, and Evie savored the brandied taste of him, lapping it up with her own tongue till she withdrew for air.

"I was. I still am. For you."

"Would you like me to finish?"

Her heart drifted upward as she smiled. "Why do you think I said 'Now'?"

He slid her night rail back over her thighs till it was bunched around her waist. "May I?"

"Please." The single word breathed out of her with longing.

Gareth slowly lifted the night rail up, past her belly, her breasts, and finally over her head till it floated away and she sat on the table before him, completely nude, her legs parted for whatever was his pleasure.

But she knew it would also be hers.

He brushed her long hair back over her shoulders to expose her breasts, their rosy tips already tingling and pebbled, though she felt not the least bit chilled. He cupped them in his hands, teasing the tips with his thumbs as she tilted her head back. His lips glided over the racing pulse in her neck, then over her shoulder and down to her breast, only to close them around the pink nub.

Evie sighed and clutched his head in her hands, holding him against her as she combed her fingertips through his thick, wavy, chestnut hair. He slid one hand down to her thigh and inside of it, till his fingertips barely grazed the curls concealing her sex.

"Lie back," he whispered.

She eagerly complied, lifting her legs and shifting to her side and then to her back as she stretched across the length of the trestle table, too overcome with forbidden need to mind the rough hardness of the wood as she parted her thighs again, letting him see everything.

"My God, you're so beautiful," he murmured, as his fingertips danced lightly over her damp folds till they opened to him, whereupon Evie arched her back and gasped as his thumb found the throbbing knot of flesh hidden within.

Flames of pleasure licked through her, from between her thighs all the way up to her breasts. She ached to touch them, but refrained, thinking it was his place to do that.

Instead, he slid a finger inside of her, slowly, oh so slowly, while his thumb continued to tease her swollen bud. Evie writhed as his finger circled deeply within, till she swore he almost touched her heart.

Just as he did that night at Madame Delphine's. She felt the same simmering, the same bubbling, rising within her, threatening to burst, ready to send her—

"I say, who's down there?" bellowed a voice from the stairwell just outside the kitchen door.