"No bother," he assured her, though in truth, her presence was wreaking havoc on his composure. Having her here, sleep-tousled and vulnerable, made him ache to pull her into his arms.
She perched on a stool as she put the milk on the table, her lips curving as she watched him pour the milk into the saucepan and place it over the kitchen hearth.
“You know what you’re doing,” she observed.
“I do,” he said, his mouth going dry as the soft light glided over her sleep-mussed hair and the elegant lines of her throat. “It will be just a moment.”
“Were you… in the midst of something, or were you also having trouble sleeping?” she asked, her voice hushed in the silent kitchen.
“Trouble sleeping tonight,” he said, not expanding on why. She didn’t need to share the weight of responsibility he carried, although her eyes were dark and trusting in the low light. “I have nowhere else to be.”
“I understand,” she said. “My mind has difficulty settling some nights. Too many thoughts spinning.”
Her fingertip traced a circle over the countertop before her. “A warm drink is always soothing.”
Asher nodded. He understood restlessness, the battle with one's own racing thoughts. Impulsively, he reached out and covered her hand with his, stilling its motion. Her skin was sleep-warm, impossibly soft. "I know the feeling well."
Evelyn looked at their hands, then up at him through her lashes. Her lips parted as if to speak, but the milk chose that moment to overheat, drops of it splashing out of the pot. Asher snatched his hand back and turned to tend it, his heart thudding.
He busied himself pouring the milk, intensely aware of Evelyn's nearness, the rustle of fabric as she shifted on her stool.
He focused on his task, trying to ignore the desire thrumming under his skin and taking an extra moment to collect himself.
When he turned with the prepared cups, he found her directly behind him, so close he could see the scatter of freckles across her nose, smell her fresh scent. His breath stilled.
"Thank you," she murmured, accepting the cup he offered. Her fingers lingered on his for a moment longer than necessary. "For indulging me."
"It's no hardship." Far from it. Being with her like this, stolen moments in the dark, was a pleasure he could easily become addicted to.
They sipped their milk in charged silence, standing a foot away from one another, gazes catching and sliding away. Asher's pulse hammered in his throat. He wanted to set his cup down, take hers away, and...
"I should retire," Evelyn said abruptly, as if hearing his thoughts. A becoming blush stained her cheeks. "It's late."
"Of course." Reluctantly, he stepped back, allowing her to pass, her cup in hand. He followed her up the stairs, dousing the candle as they went. Even though he knew he should let her go, he didn’t want to say goodnight. Not just yet.
“Would you like to finish your drink in the sitting room together?” he asked, holding his breath as he waited for her answer.
“I would like that,” she said shyly. “Unless you have something else to do?”
“Nothing pressing.”
She followed him into the small sitting room near the back of the house, which was much more comfortable than the other rooms and where he preferred to visit if the occasion ever called for it.
“Well,” Asher said, sitting in front of the fireplace in the chair across from Evelyn, “I have to say that tonight was one of the most enjoyable evenings out I have spent in years.”
“It was?” she said, raising her brows. “In what way?”
“It was the first time since… in a long time that I have been able to be out in society without constantly looking over my shoulder, trying to avoid being caught in a web by a young lady and her mother hunting a duke.”
“Is that not what ended up happening to you anyway?” she asked wryly.
“Yes, but you are different.”
“How?”
“You never meant to catch me. You were an accidental surprise.”
“I see,” she said, looking down. “I must ask, is there a reason you ignored me all night?”
