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The room seemed like a cavern, as did Amelie’s heart. Seeing Evan again brought back all of the emotions they had shared in a mad rush of torment. It was so vicious that she was almost shaken to her core, and she just about managed to remain standing. To see Evan again was to bear witness to his powerful beauty, to lose herself in his deep eyes and to allow her gaze to flit across the expanse of his body, as though she were taking in the gorgeous view of the dipping valleys and eternal horizon.

Did he only have this effect on her because he had been the first man to inspire these feelings? She chastised herself inwardly. She had Ro waiting for her. He was ready to take her away from this place and make her his wife, and as far as she knew there were no other women on his mind. He had never made advances towards the other women in the nunnery, and she did not have to doubt his devotion. She had not even been able to make it a couple of days with Evan without being shown his roguish ways.

And yet… and yet… her heart still fluttered. Warmth still spread through her limbs. Even in this dark room, he seemed to be glowing, and she could feel herself being drawn to him. Amelie would have been lying to herself if she said the kiss they shared meant nothing. To her, it had been everything. Yet in the aftermath of that bliss, there was terrible destruction. Bridget had warned her, and the smartest thing Amelie could have done was to listen to her. Evan had left her with nothing but the memory of this kiss and a broken promise, although now that he had arrived did that mean his promise had been fulfilled?

But it was too late. She had promised herself to another man… hadn’t she?

Oh, her wretched, naive, sensitive soul was not inured to those feelings. She could not simply let them crash against her as the waves would crash against the rock. No, she was more like the silken sand, absorbing them all as they slipped over her, for she had never been taught how to handle things like this. In truth, she had never thought that she would need to be taught.

It would have been far easier had Evan never come back here. Perhaps they would have encountered each other again in the future, after she was married. She would return to the clan and meet his gaze across a wide hall, and he would realize what a mistake he had made in allowing her to leave without saying anything. She would feel pride in knowing that she had made something of herself and surprised everyone.

That future had not happened yet though. She remained unmarried, and the raging feelings in her mind were difficult to deny. Her throat was dry, and even if she had been able to speak fluidly normally, in this moment she would have been robbed of speech.

And then he spoke her name. “Amelie,” he breathed. It was a whisper on the wind, a sigh of the gods, relief to an ache that ran deep into her bones. He stepped towards her and for a moment she thought he was going to lose all sense of decorum and whisk her in his arms, sending her into a giddy whirl. He stopped himself, as though there was an invisible barrier standing before him. His words faltered and his eyes searched the air before him. Amelie tensed her neck, determined to keep her head up, refusing to allow it to bow to the ground.

In fact, she was so determined to show that she was in control that she moved first. She walked past Evan, keeping distance between them, and moved to the rear of the room where the candles were standing. She lit them all, one by one. A series of flames burst into life and heat seeped into the air. Amelie’s face was illuminated by the soft glow, and thin plumes of smoke rose into the air.

“Amelie,” he said again. This time his voice was steadier. She closed her eyes, remembering how his voice had been like rolling thunder and his breath had drifted against her cheek and her ear, making her tremble. His lips had been so close, his body pressed up against hers, almost as though the entire world was closing in on them, pushing them together until they would never part.

But part they had.

Amelie took a deep breath and then turned away from the candles to face him once again. She regarded him coolly, clasping her hands together, waiting for him to speak.

* * *

It was rare for Evan’s silver tongue to desert him. However, standing there before Amelie made him feel as though he had lost the art of speech. His throat felt constricted and his tongue was in disarray. What was he supposed to say? Was he just supposed to blurt out everything that was on his mind? How could he make things right? He had spoken her name twice now, yet her name was only the beginning of her beauty. She seemed different there than she had been back in the clan. She was more relaxed, as she had been in those stolen moments by the lake where they had been far from other people, where they had been alone.

The memories rushed through his body and seized him entirely in an impassioned grip. He was tempted to relive those moments again by taking her in his arms and allowing his instincts to take hold. After all, they had broached that intimate barrier before.

Yet they stood on sacred ground and she was protected by God’s grace. It would have been disrespectful for him to sully her reputation like that. Perhaps it had been disrespectful of him to kiss her in the first place, yet the temptation had been irresistible. Kissing her had almost seemed like a mission from the Lord. But she had slipped away from him as easily as grains of sand through his fingers. He wanted to make everything right, and for that to happen his words needed to be perfect.

The longer the silence grew between them, the more self-conscious he became. She might start to think him an addled fool if he remained in silence for too long. He had asked to see her, after all.

“Amelie, I hae something for ye,” he finally said, regaining his senses. He bent down and opened a small crate he had carried into the chamber with him. He pulled out a bottle and walked towards her, holding it out in front of him.

* * *

Amelie hadn’t even noticed the crate beside him, so taken was she with his appearance. When he spoke her name it sounded like a magic spell. As he approached she felt the core of her body tighten, as though everything about her was pulled taut. The bottle he held was lost in shadows. At first, she thought it was wine, and she wondered if Evan knew her at all. But then, as he thrust it into her hands, she realized it was plum sauce. She accepted the gift and curled her hands around the bottle. As she did, her fingers brushed against his, sending sharp, crackling jolts through her body. Being in Evan’s presence again provided an immediate reminder of the intense attraction they had shared. It was like being plunged into a deep, hot bath, with steam rising obscuring her vision and bubbling water making her flail and thrash. It was impossible to not compare it to the gentle ease she felt with Ro. There had never been such a ferocious rise with the merchant, and she felt guilty for thinking about the two men like this.

Her head became light and she had to remind herself to breathe.

“I was nae sure ye would hae something like this here. I know the nuns like tae live in a simple way, but I remember how much ye enjoyed it at the feast,” he said, smiling.

Amelie smiled too. She clutched the bottle close to her, glad that her trembling hands had something to hold onto it. Another few moments of awkward silence continued. Evan managed to tear his gaze away from her. He paced around the room, looking at the displays and the candles.

“I never knew it would be as grand as this. Ye are blessed tae live in such a place. I can see why ye were in such a hurry tae return here,” he said. Did she detect some bitterness in his voice, perhaps even a hint of accusation? She placed the bottle on the floor and pulled out her slate, writing in big letters so that he could see what she had written without having to get too close to her.

You would have been familiar with this place if you had arrived sooner. I suppose your duty prevented you from visiting?

Amelie studied his face as he read the words. His gaze was faltering, and he turned his head away. “Aye, duty,” he spoke in a quiet voice.

I’m sure your duty is going to call you away soon as well. Thank you for the plum sauce, but I do not wish to hold you back.

She thought perhaps it was best if he left. It might be the safest thing for both of them.

* * *