Chapter 1 #2
Crikes, if he’d known circulating libraries were like this, he’d have joined one years ago.
“Although…” She tapped a forefinger against the prettiest pink lips a man ever did see and tipped her head to the side.
His usual loquacious gifts abandoned him, and all he could do was wait with bated breath for her next words.
“Annals isn’t my favorite of Tacitus’s works,” she said. “Have you read his Histories? His account of the Year of the Four Emperors is absolutely fascinating.”
A second ticked past.
Then another.
And Blaze realized she was waiting for an answer.
He cleared his throat. “Naw, haven’t gotten around to it, as such,” he found the wherewithal to say.
His instinct—the one that had liberated him from many a hairy, dire situation—told him to run.
Yet his feet seemed to have grown roots into the floorboards.
“Where is that volume anyway?” she asked no one in particular, casting her gaze up and down the wall of books. “Ah,” she said at last, that pretty pink mouth of hers curling into a satisfied smile as she lifted onto the tips of her toes and reached up, stretching her body like a cat.
A sort of male instinct kicked in, and it was all he could do to keep his hands to himself and not run his fingers along the firm indent of her waist.
But, naw, he didn’t touch a woman unless she asked very nicely.
Sometimes, he even waited until she begged.
This woman lowered to her heels in a huff. Then she cocked her head to the side and eyed him up and down, from his feet to—
Her gaze snagged on the diamond stud in his left ear.
Like the sapphire in his pinky ring, it, too, was the size of a back molar.
Except she didn’t react with snooty disdain like Mrs. Dunlevy.
This lady’s pupils flared until her irises were naught but thin blue rings.
This lady liked what she saw in that little demonstration of societal transgression.
He could always tell when a lady did.
“I can’t seem to reach,” she said.
“It does appear to be the fact of the matter.”
“With your superior height,” she continued, pointing at the top shelf, “you could grab Histories with ease.”
And like that, his moment’s satisfaction disappeared, only to be replaced with a dread snaking right through a man’s guts. Still, he had no choice but to say… “Right you are.”
He extended his arm, his fingertips brushing across book spines in the general vicinity of where she’d been reaching, and slid a book out, all the while praying to every single god in the heavens above that it was the book she wanted.
A shallow, vertical line formed between her eyebrows. “Ah, no, that’s Livy’s Ab Urbe Condita.” An instant later, she added, “One can easily get the accounts of Livy and Tacitus confused.”
He gave the laugh that brought out the best of his dimples. “Just testing you,” he said, and the laugh she returned held a little note of near undetectable uncertainty.
But he caught it.
A man like him was good at detecting near undetectable uncertainties.
A man never knew when his life might depend on it.
A light sheen of sweat pinpricked his skin as he reached for another book, her expectant, unflinching gaze on him the entire time.
He held the book between them, and the split of a second passed.
Oh, how a lifetime could be lived and lost in the split of a second.
She took the book. “Ah, yes, thank you.”
What he should’ve been feeling was relief, but all he actually felt was suspicion, for he was growing more certain with each passing split of a second that he’d handed her the wrong book.
Further, he felt back-footed, and that was a feeling he couldn’t tolerate.
And even further, within her clear blue eyes glimmered a look too close to sympathy. It was giving him the twitches.
Again came the voice he should’ve heeded a minute ago.
Run.
And this time his feet felt inclined to listen.
He reached for his top hat—he didn’t bow to anyone, be they lady, lord, queen, or king—and said, “Keep dry out there on them streets.”
With that sufficient bid of farewell, his feet came unstuck from the floorboards and instinct took over. As he turned, he just caught sight of her brow lifting with surprise and her mouth curving into an astonished smile.
Well, he did take pride in his ability to astonish.
A few seconds later, it was him out on them streets that were wet, but the rain had passed, his journey to Lady Bea’s for tea back on course.
It was almost like the last twenty minutes hadn’t happened.
Almost.
One wasn’t prone to forget a novel experience, and he’d certainly just had that.
He glanced backwards, to confirm it hadn’t been some mirage like folk saw in the desert. But there the building stood in all its white-painted, black-trimmed stone and glory—Sirens Circulating Library. A gent went up the short set of stairs and entered. That man would be a member, of course.
And, somehow, so was Blaze.
How was that for an improbable turn in life?
He almost did a one-eighty and retraced his steps to confirm it.
But he wouldn’t now—and he shouldn’t ever.
And it wasn’t about all those books he couldn’t read, either.
It was about those open blue eyes he’d left behind.
Eyes that lacked fear.
Eyes that probed with curiosity.
Eyes that looked inclined to smile at the slightest provocation.
Eyes that liked the cut of his diamond earring.