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a cold stare on the older man. “Of course it was not.”
    “Ahhhh.” Berwicke grinned. “I understand completely. You wish to be discreet.” He gave Evan a playful punch in the shoulder.
    The barmaid returned with a tray with two plates of steaming food and a bottle of wine—clearly enough food and drink for two. Evan leveled a glare upon Berwicke. “I’ll thank you to not speak of things you know nothing about.”
    Berwicke’s only response was a knowing chuckle as Evan took the tray and strode off.

Chapter Four
    E van kept his promise—he was only away for a few minutes to fetch the food. While he was gone, Amelia sat on the edge of the bed, her hands clasped tightly in her lap, her thoughts going over what had happened in the past few hours.
    She’d gone from hating Evan Cameron to…something else. Something that felt hopeful to the point of being needy. Something that felt far too close to those naïve hopes that she’d harbored so long ago.
    It had surprised her when he’d said he’d informed his mother of his intention to marry her, because at ten years of age, she’d told her mother she intended to marry him . Her mother had patted her head and smiled. “We’ll see about that, darling,” she’d said in that kind voice an adult uses on a child who will someday know better.
    Then, that night when Amelia was sixteen, when her regard for Evan was at its pinnacle, along with her hopes, she’d overheard that conversation. His words had crushed her. Her confidence had fled, and it had taken years for her to find it again.
    Now she was almost twenty-four years old. She’d married, nursed a husband through a terrible illness that had resulted in his death, and she’d been a widow for two and a half years. She had rebuilt her pride as well as her self-confidence. Silly nicknames couldn’t hurt her anymore. Only at rare moments these days did she feel like the same person as that vulnerable sixteen-year-old girl.
    Yet that moment had shaped her life for the last seven years. And seeing Evan again rubbed at a weakness in the carefully constructed shields she’d so carefully built.
    She closed her eyes, remembering the flash of horror in his expression when he’d recalled the truth of what had happened that night. Yet he hadn’t denied that there’d been some truth in what he and Fletcher had said. If there was no truth to it, it wouldn’t have affected her in the way it had.
    She took a deep breath and stared down at her hands clasped in her lap.
    She had no expectations of Evan. He’d led a life quite separate from hers for seven years now. She had no idea of his plans for his future. She didn’t even know where he made his home these days.
    But he was still incredibly handsome, incredibly appealing. He’d wanted her, and she still wanted him.
    She had her own life, her own future. Even if Evan wasn’t fated to be part of that future, they had tonight. They had until the storm cleared, which could be days from now. It could be after Christmas.
    Her dormant feminine wiles had been roused enough to tell her that he still wanted her. She felt like some bold creature, someone entirely separate from her usual reserved self. But this was an opportunity for her to have passion , something she’d secretly wanted for so very long. If she had to cram a lifetime of yearning into one or two nights, then that was what she’d do.
    She’d be his this Christmas.
    The door handle rattled, and she jumped up to open the door for Evan. He walked in bearing a tray heaped with food and wine. She shut the door behind him and helped him to settle the tray on the bed. They sat on either side of it and began to share the tender morsels of meat and vegetables.
    Their eyes locked as he fed her the first bite of food, and her breath caught. He looked…well, goodness. He looked aroused by watching her eat. It only made her hungrier to watch his expression as he watched her.
    She took up a bit of beef on her fork and