Emily was stretched out on her stomach, reading a collection of essays about philosophy when Godric entered. Her eyes lifted from the pages as he shut his door and leaned back on it, arms crossed. One dark brow rose, as did one corner of his mouth. Her heart leapt. She had the urge to bolt and hide in the underbrush like a startled fawn. The embers between them had smoldered beneath the surface far too long, and would finally be tended to. There would be no going back. Did she trust ...