The moment she heard the subtle procession of footsteps, Evie's fingers froze around the rim of the pot she was polishing.
Her intuition screamed at her. It couldn't be him, could it?
In confirmation, Evie's eyes snapped towards the kitchen door, and, like a mirage, there he was, leaning against the oak doorframe. Unruly strands of his hair, accentuated by the moonlight, fell over his face. His dark velvet doublet was unbuttoned at the throat.
Something about him seemed wild and untamed tonight—a stark contrast to the icy, reserved Lord she knew.
Snapped out of her trance, Evie hastily dipped into a curtsy. "M-my Lord," she stuttered. "Your supper has already been sent up—"
"I didn't come here for supper," he intercepted, his voice low, rough at the edges.
A shiver traced down her spine when his boots scraped against the stone as he stepped closer. She could feel his warmth—the scent of his intense masculinity, and even something darker—invading her defences as he stood before her.
"Look at me, Evie."
Her name on his lips felt like a forbidden whisper. Slowly, she lifted her gaze to meet his.
His eyes were stormy-grey—hungry, intoxicated, angsty, untamed—reeking of every emotion kindled within him.
"You've been avoiding me," he stated.
Evidence of guilt flickered in her gaze. "M-my L-lord, Duchess Monroe w-warned me to steer clear of your—our status—"
"Status?" A humourless laugh echoed. "You think I give a damn about the difference in our status?"
His calloused fingers gently brushed against her soft, flour-dusted cheek, lingering just enough to ignite foreign sparks within her.
"You've really undone me, Evie," he murmured, his breath hot against hers.
"I had thought what I felt for you was merely fleeting, because of how connected we became—but it grew into something intense, something undeniable, that has left me consumed."
In an instant, his lips crashed against hers. Her world screeched to a halt. Evie's eyes widened as the pot in her hands slipped, clattering to the floor. The kiss was fierce, yet passionate—his breath warm against hers.
This was it. All his twenty-seven years of sworn celibacy had been shattered in a single night.
"You've become the bane of my very vow never to fall in love." And there, he uttered the words he had vowed never to say to anyone:
"I love you, Evie—and I want you to become mine."