Flinging back the covers, she got to her feet. She knew herself well enough to realize that sleep would be completely impossible for the time being. A cup of hot milk and a good book might help to ease her mind. Assuming she could locate the kitchen, that was, since it was far too early to rouse the servants from their beds.
Well, on second thought, maybe just a good book, she mused. Because even if she managed to locate the kitchen without mishap, she would have absolutely no idea how to light the stove.
Instead, she decided to go downstairs to the library and find something with which she could distract herself. Surely if the book wasn’t too exciting, she would soon grow sleepy enough to doze off again.
Pulling on her favorite old brown cashmere dressing gown, she tied the sash tightly at her waist, then fit her feet into a pair of soft leather slippers. Taking up the candle, she left the room.
The house was utterly still, swathed in thick expanses of darkness. Making her way carefully down the staircase, she reached the ground floor and continued toward the library at the rear. As she drew nearer, she noticed a low spill of light emanating from the partially opened, carved double doors.
Slipping inside on soundless feet, she saw that the glow came from the fire that still burned at a hearty pace in the grate. A pleased sigh escaped her lips at finding the room warm and extraordinarily cozy. Floor-to-ceiling shelves lined the walls, each one filled to capacity with books, the leather-bound volumes with their aging paper and ink adding an earthy tang to the air. Plush woolen Aubusson carpets in shades of deepest blue and brown lay across the polished wood floors, while wide, comfortably upholstered sofas and chairs were arranged into inviting configurations.
It was from the depths of one of these chairs that a man peered toward her, an open book on his lap, a crystal snifter of what looked to be brandy set on a small table near his elbow.
“Nick!” she said, coming to an abrupt halt in the center of the room. “I didn’t realize you were still awake.”
One of his brows drew into an arch. “I could say the same of you.”
He looked at his seductive ease, lounging there with his coat flung aside, dressed now in white shirtsleeves, waistcoat, and black trousers. His shirt lay open at his throat, his neckcloth having gone the way of his jacket. She couldn’t take her eyes off the triangle of golden flesh the opening revealed or the patch of dark, tightly curled hair that peeked tantalizingly from beneath.
She’d known he was beautiful, but tonight he simply took her breath away.
“What are you doing up?” he asked, apparently oblivious to her regard. “You’re not feeling worse, are you?”
Worse? Oh, he must mean my supposed headache, she reminded herself.
“No.” She linked her hands together at her waist and forced herself not to stare unduly. “I am much improved, but I woke up and can’t get back to sleep. I thought a book might help. You did say I could avail myself of the library.”
“Of course. Take whatever you like. Is there any particular subject you would enjoy?”
She shrugged, her hopes for becoming sleepy growing dimmer with each second she spent in Nick’s company. He stimulated her, not the other way around. Maybe if she found a book quickly and went back to bed, she might manage to get a few more hours of sleep in spite of her encounter with Nick.
But now that he was here, she really didn’t want to read—or sleep. Their time together was growing so short; she wanted to spend as much of it as possible with him.
Only he did not know she would be leaving in just a few hours’ time. Nor was she going to tell him.
Not tonight.
Casting around, she looked again at the myriad books. When he’d said his brother had an extensive collection he hadn’t exaggerated. Although compared to the vast array of works housed in the palace library in Rosewald, this was but a minor accumulation.
“Oh, nothing too exciting,” she said, moving a few steps farther into the room. “But not so boring I can’t abide what I’m reading. Just dull enough to make me drowsy, if you know what I mean.”
He chuckled. “I suppose there are a fair number of works that might satisfy that requirement, depending on the interests of the reader.” Setting his own book aside, he stood and walked toward one of the nearby shelves. After perusing the titles, he drew two volumes from their shelves.
“How about one of these?” he said, crossing to her. “The first is a series of essays on various historical periods, while the other deals with helpful sermons for everyday living. I should imagine either will put you swiftly to sleep.”
“Undoubtedly. But remember, I said not too boring. They both sound deadly.”