Sarah came to sit across the table from Munro. He reached for her hands. “Ye’re a beautiful woman and I’m a lucky mon.”

“I don’t feel beautiful,” she replied, tucking an errant curl behind her ear.

“Ye’re tired after an exhausting day.” He made a conscious effort not to glance at the bed. He’d been about to say she’d feel better after a good night’s sleep, but that was unlikely, unless…

A rap at the downstairs door interrupted his musings. He held out his hand for Sarah’s key. “I’ll go.”

Arms laden with foodstuffs, Giles nigh on collapsed against the door when Munro unlocked it.

“Ye did well for less than sixpence,” he said, relieving the lad of a flagon of cider.

“Funny thing,” Giles replied. “Some of the vendors refused to take any coin. The Reverend has spread the word about Mrs. Ward’s passing and what happened at King Edward’s.”

Sarah met them at the top of the stairs and took one of the parcels. “I smell jellied eels.”

“And black pudding and salted pork and bread and…”

“Whoa, laddie. Catch yer breath. ’Twas kind o’ them.”

Giles grinned. “True, but I think some of them were glad to be rid of the last stock of the day.”

“It’s quite a spread,” Sarah said, arranging the food on the table. “You’re a resourceful young man, and it was remiss of me not to tell you how glad I am they found the real culprit.”

“Only thanks to Mr. Pendray,” he replied.

Embarrassed by the hero-worship in the apprentice’s gaze, Munro took a seat at the table and rubbed his hands together. “Ye’re right, Sarah. I am hungry. Well done, lad.”

Sarah sat, but Giles dithered. “I’ll take a bit of black pudding down…”

“Sit,” Munro commanded, reaching for the jar of jellied eels. “Ye’ll eat with us.”

The boy obeyed, looking askance at the eels.

Sarah cleared her throat. “I think Giles wants to offer a prayer of thanks.”

Chastened, Munro bowed his head as the three joined hands.

“For these Thy gifts we are about to receive from Thy bounty, we are truly thankful,” Giles prayed. “And thanks for Mrs. North and Mr. Pendray. I love them and I hope they get wed. Amen.”

“Amen,” Munro echoed loudly. “Actually, young man, Mrs. North has agreed to be my wife.”

Giles beamed a grin that lit up the room.

Giles asked a thousand questions during the meal, barely taking a breath between each one. When and where would the wedding take place? Surely it would be at St. Martin’s? Would Mr. Pendray help Mrs. North with the shop? Would they still need an apprentice?

Sarah was relieved when Munro intervened. “Ye pose a lot of questions we dinna ken the answers to yet, laddie. A bellyache will result if ye dinna calm down.”

The boy made a valiant effort to hold his tongue, squirming in his seat, until the yawning took hold and his eyelids drooped.

“You’ve had a long and difficult day,” Sarah said. “Mr. Pendray will see you safely to bed while I clear up.”

Munro stood and retrieved one of the candles from the mantle. “Aye. Come along. Off to bed. We’ve a funeral to attend on the morrow.”

Giles slid out of his chair. “Goodnight,” he murmured.

Sarah pecked a kiss on his cheek, earning another grin.

They didn’t just take light with them when they left. Sarah busied herself clearing the table, trying to stave off the gloom and avoiding looking at the bed. She’d stripped off the sheets and remade it with clean ones, but still…

Munro returned a short time later without the candle, yet the apartment seemed instantly brighter. “He’s asleep already,” he said with the smile that never failed to spark unfamiliar cravings in private places.

She sat across the table from him and reached for his hands. “You should get some sleep too. You saved two lives today.”

He shrugged. “’Twas purely selfish. If aught happened to ye…” He glanced at the empty bed. “I dinna think ye want to sleep here this night. I can get ye a room at the inn.”

She shook her head. “Folk would gossip. My reputation’s in tatters as it is. Besides, I don’t want to leave Giles alone.”

“I can stay if ye like. In the chair, I mean, so ye willna be alone. I promise to be a perfect gentleman.” He wiggled his eyebrows, filling her with an urge to invite him into her bed.

She struggled with indecision. Giles would assume they’d slept together. But did she care? The boy wouldn’t censure them for it. She’d had enough loneliness to last a lifetime. “It’s not very comfortable,” she said, “but I’ll fetch a blanket for you.”

Munro took off his tunic and waistcoat, very aware Sarah was watching as she stood beside him with the blanket. She’d been married so must understand what the bulge at his groin meant. “I’d best keep my trews on,” he quipped. “Then I can hold to my promise to be a gentleman.”

Her blush only intensified his growing need.

“And in case you need to pay a visit during the night,” she whispered shyly.

He knew exactly what kind of visit he’d like to make, but sensed she wasn’t ready for lovemaking. Still, a kiss might not go amiss. He took her into his arms, grudgingly grateful for the blanket wedged between them. He wanted to devour her but forced himself to go slowly, nibbling her lower lip, then teasing with his tongue. Her gasp of surprise was a sure sign she liked it. Emboldened, he coaxed her to open for him. Her response was more than he could have hoped for. She allowed him entry. Their tongues mated, testing his resolve. He tasted cider and filled his nostrils with the intoxicating aroma of female arousal. His heart leapt when she entwined her arms around his neck and surrendered to him, breathing his name.

When they broke apart, he looked into eyes full of need. It was tempting to suggest they share the bed, but it was too soon. “I crave ye, Sarah,” he rasped. “But nay on a night when ye’re grieving. I want ye to be thinking only of me when we join our bodies.”

She nodded, but averted her gaze. “I’m not much good at that,” she confessed.

Cursing the late, unlamented Reginald, he settled into the chair and took the blanket. “But ye will be,” he assured her with a wink.