As he handed her a glass, the thunder cracked again, closer this time. The room’s soft lamplight seemed suddenly inadequate against the encroaching storm. Evan moved to the windows,drawing the heavy curtains shut, muting the storm’s presence to a faint, muffled growl.
Emma, meanwhile, lit a few candles on the mantelpiece. Their flickering flames cast a golden glow, transforming the room into a warm cocoon of light and shadow. He hesitated for a moment, his hand still on the curtain’s edge, aware of how intimate the setting had become. This is dangerous, a part of him whispered. He knew it, felt it in the steady pull toward her. But knowing didn’t make it easier to resist.
They settled into the chairs near the fireplace, their glasses in hand. The fire wasn’t lit, but the glow of the candles reflected in her eyes, their warmth softening her features.
She took a small sip of the wine and let out a pleased hum. “It’s lovely,” she said. “You weren’t exaggerating about your vineyards.”
Evan offered a faint smile, the corner of his mouth tilting up. “It’s one of the few things I allow myself to take pride in.”
Silence settled between them, comfortable at first but slowly weighed by the unspoken things between them. Emma broke it, her voice gentle.
“Evan,” she began, “was it you who covered me earlier? With the blanket?”
He froze for a moment, caught off guard. His grip on the glass tightened slightly before he nodded. “It was,” he admitted, his tone quieter now. “I saw you sleeping, and… you looked peaceful. It reminded me of—” He stopped, hesitating.
“Of?” she prompted, her voice soft, encouraging.
He exhaled, letting the words come. “My mother used to do that for me when I was young. If I’d fallen asleep somewhere, she’d cover me. It always made me feel…” He trailed off, searching for the right word.
“Cared for?” Emma finished for him, a smile playing at her lips.
He met her gaze, startled by how easily she’d understood. “Yes,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.
Her smile deepened, and she leaned back in her chair, cradling her glass. “It made me feel that way too,” she admitted. “Thank you.”
Evan looked away briefly, trying to steady himself. Her gratitude, so simple and genuine, unraveled something in him. The storm outside seemed quieter now, its noise eclipsed by the rush of his own thoughts.
This is dangerous, he reminded himself again, but the warning felt distant and half-hearted. Sitting here, in the warm glow of candlelight, with her so near and her smile still lingering—he couldn’t bring himself to pull away.
The quiet stretched on, charged and fragile. Neither spoke, but in the stillness, something between them seemed to shift, delicate as the flame of a candle, yet undeniable.
CHAPTER 31
Emma
Emma sat quietly, cradling her glass of wine as the soft candlelight flickered around the drawing room. The thunder rumbled faintly beyond the thick curtains, but the storm seemed far away compared to the man sitting opposite her. She glanced at Evan, the lines of his face softened in the warm glow, and felt an odd mix of gratitude and unease.
Why were they here together like this? It felt too intimate, too uncertain. She appreciated his kindness—the wine, the blanket earlier, the concern in his eyes when he’d come to find her in the garden. Yet there was a part of her that remained on edge, unsure of what this closeness meant or where it would lead.
Her feelings for him were a tangled web. She wanted to be near him—she couldn’t deny that. But his past cast a long shadow. It was so conflicting, the things she’d learned about him. The stories of his rakish past stood in contrast to what Ophelia hadsaid – that he wasn’t that man, that he’d changed. What was true? What a lie?
Gathering her courage, Emma set her glass down and spoke, her voice tentative but steady. “Evan?”
He looked up from his own glass, frowning slightly. “Yes?”
“May I ask you something?”
His brow furrowed deeper, but he nodded. “Of course.”
She hesitated for only a moment before diving in. “Why did you want to marry Ophelia? It couldn’t have just been to help her—you didn’t know her that well when you came to the agreement.” Her voice lowered slightly. “You once said you did it for yourself. Was it just so you could continue in your… former ways?”
Evan’s eyes widened briefly before narrowing with a hint of amusement. He chuckled softly, shaking his head. “You are very observant,” he said, leaning back in his chair. “And it seems Ophelia trusts you a great deal to share so much.”
Emma stayed quiet, her gaze steady on him.
He sighed, setting his glass aside and rubbing his temples. “Very well,” he said at last. “I’ll tell you the truth. You deserve to understand.”
Emma felt her pulse quicken as he began, his voice low and even.
