I awakened alone and devoid of the Titulus, yet again.
TitulusAll that lingered of Evangeline was her sweet scent upon my chemise, the indent of her figure in the straw. I peered over the lip of the loft, not truly surprised to find my horse gone, as well.
Had I not warned her away from me? Had I not ensured that she was disgusted with my vulgarity? I know the look of a woman whose heart is softening to the point that she believes me capable of some misguided nobility—though I had never expected pragmatic Evangeline to regard me thus, she had done so after I pulled her from the lake.
It would not do for her to have tender feelings for me, the greatest rogue to ever cross her threshold. Matters had been acceptable so long as we made a fair exchange—my seed for the Titulus, for example—an
