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for taking her innocence, he couldn’t bring himself to regret it. Never before had any woman made him feel this way.
    Now, more than ever, he intended to ensure that she had everything she ever wanted. He’d take care of her, seeing to all her needs.
    Stephen got up and dressed quietly. It was too dark to see how snowy it was, but he didn’t doubt that his coachman would eventually return when the weather cleared. He walked downstairs and found Emily in the kitchen, attacking dough with a rolling pin. Her hair was wild, tangled across her shoulders, while she wore the gown she’d had on earlier. A long apron was tied about her waist.
    She was crying.
    Damn it all. He’d never meant to hurt her. He came up behind her and put his hands on her shoulders. “I’m sorry, Emily.”
    She whirled with the rolling pin, touching her hand to her throat. “Oh, heavens, you scared me.” Just as quickly, she stepped away and tried to set the utensil down. “I was just…making something for breakfast. Some fried dough dipped in sugar.”
    “Breakfast is another three hours away, at least.” He saw her wipe the tears away, her face turning red.
    She returned her attention to the dough, shaping it into a ball to rise. “I know.” After she placed the dough in a bowl and covered it with a cloth, she braved a smile. “You should go back to bed.”
    “So should you.”
    She wiped her floured hands upon the apron. “Oh, I will. As soon as this is done.”
    Which wouldn’t be until dawn, he guessed, judging from the hours it would take for the dough to rise twice. She was clearly avoiding him.
    “Emily, we should talk.”
    “About what? It was my fault that any of this happened,” she pointed out. “You aren’t to blame.”
    But he was. If he’d had any willpower at all, he’d have left her alone and slept upon the sofa. “As soon as my coachman arrives, we’re returning to Falkirk. We’ll decide what’s to be done then.”
    Her expression turned guarded. “What’s to be done?” She gripped her arms, rubbing them as though she were cold again. “There’s nothing to be done, Whitmore. You’ve no obligation to me at all.” With a brittle laugh, she added, “It isn’t as though you could marry me. We both know that.”
    “Do we?” He moved forward and reached for her waist. “You’re a Baron’s daughter. And if memory serves, I just took away your chances of making a successful marriage.”
    “I was already ruined, Whitmore. No decent man in London would have me, not after my father’s suicide.” She tried to pull back, but he refused to release her.
    “That’s not true.”
    “It is.”
    Though he wanted to reassure her, she put her hands up and continued, “You’ll go back to Falkirk, and I’ll stay here until Daniel comes. It will be all right.” Despite her words, the tears started again.
    “Emily, I’m going to take care of you.”
    “I don’t need you,” she snapped. “I can take care of myself. And for God’s sake, I don’t want your pity. I seduced you, and I won’t feel sorry for it.”
    He seized the ties of her apron, using them to pull her into his arms. “I’m not sorry for it, either. But we have to decide on your future and where you’ll live.”
    “It’s my decision, not yours. And I’ve chosen to live here.”
    “If you think I’m going to let you live like a servant, you’re wrong.”
    “Stop trying to control my life, Whitmore. You, of all men, ought to understand what it’s like to have someone forcing your every move. I won’t allow it.”
    The pointed reminder wasn’t lost on him. But he wasn’t behaving like his autocratic family. This was about taking care of Emily, ensuring her safety.
    She tried to break free of his embrace, but he held her fast. The top button of her gown hung open, baring her throat to him. The glimpse of skin made him hungry to taste, to tantalize her. He didn’t want anger between them, not after all that had transpired.
    He held