The Librarian's Spell by Patricia Rice (ebook offline reader TXT) 📗

in the universe would be thrilled to have him for husband and not need more. She, unfortunately, wanted what she’d never had—belief that she was good enough for a man like Max and for a library that needed magic.

“I’ve glanced at the maps. It appears the estate includes the entire hill the castle overlooks, which makes sense for a fortress. What is inexplicable is why they would build the entrance road on the most precarious side of what is otherwise a gradually sloping hill.” He lifted her up and straightened the long train of her gown so she wouldn’t trip.

“That’s not inexplicable to hermits,” she said, some of her humor returning with Max’s presence. “Mr. C liked keeping out strangers. But the map is covered in little numbers and circles. I don’t know what they mean, so I wasn’t sure what it’s saying.”

“Survey language, how many degrees latitude and so forth to mark your boundaries more clearly than the old oak by the broken fence,” Max explained.

Lydia lifted her petticoat and skirt to climb the last stairs to the suite. “Is it possible there might once have been a town on the sloping side? Like Edinburgh—the castle guarded the highest point and the town formed in its shadow?”

“We can speculate all we like, but short of digging up a mountain, I guess we’ll never know. You need a book from the ancestors who built this place,” Max said.

And just like that, Lydia heard the call. She froze and glanced down all the dark stairs. Why did the damned library only answer Max’s questions?

Grimacing, knowing this was her duty, she bundled up her skirts and petticoat and descended the stairs over Max’s protests. The book hummed and sang and by the time she reached the last landing, she practically heard a chorus of demand.

But only one book pushed from the shelf—an ancient tome of faded, cracked leather. Even without opening it, she knew it was in Latin, in washed-out, crabby script. To prevent tripping on her long skirt, she placed the book in the apron she made by holding up her gown, and returned upstairs, where Max watched with interest.

His fascination enhanced the fluttery feeling in her midsection, even though she wasn’t thinking about coupling.

“Bedtime reading?” he suggested, taking the book and opening the door.

“Not tonight. My Latin is too rusty. I feel as if I could sleep for a week.” She loved the easy familiarity of talking with Max, his acceptance of her need for a book, and having his strong hand at her back. He made her feel feminine and delicate, even when she knew she was not.

“Will you tell me now why you were weeping?” He set aside the book once they entered their small parlor and reached to unfasten her heavy necklace.

“Because the books are angry with me.” She didn’t have any other way of explaining it.

“I don’t know how that’s possible. Is there anything I can do?” He added the necklace to the table with the book.

Lydia rubbed her nape and stretched her neck. “I think it’s because I can’t hear them.”

“Frustrated books! Only fair, given how many times they’ve frustrated me.” He massaged her aching muscles. “Does this mean you’re not angry with me? I tried not to linger too long, but you were gone by the time the others were prepared to leave the table.” He began working the fastening of her gown.

Max’s insecurity with women’s emotions rendered him human and increased the fiery fluttering she didn’t know how to identify. So Lydia swung around and kissed him, thrilling in the power to do so anytime she wished. “Not you at all. You are my rock. But I am terrified I’ll lose you once it’s discovered I’m no librarian. If I have to leave this tower, will you sail to Burma?”

Max responded with alacrity, covering her with kisses. “It’s you I want, not a stack of stones. If you don’t have a library, maybe you can go with me to Burma.”

The notion excited and horrified her equally. “I don’t know who I’d be without books,” she protested.

He pushed her toward the bedchamber. “There is a whole universe out there you haven’t set eyes on.”

“There’s a whole universe in here that you haven’t seen,” she retorted, although she still felt weepy that she might never see it all either.

While she stepped out of her gown and petticoats, Max crossed the room, yanked back the draperies, and opened the door on the tiny balcony. “The castle’s tower is inside an even greater edifice. Come look.”

Lydia grabbed a robe against the cool night air and joined him. Darkness spread across the hillside, obscuring the trees in the distance.

Max gestured at the sky. “The stars are different everywhere. You could travel the world and never see this exact piece of sky. Or that field or those trees. You can allow yourself to be confined by these walls or you can go outside and find rooms full of flowers and people and animals you’ve never met. That world is every bit yours as this tower.”

Admiring the beautiful star-studded sky, Lydia leaned into him, enjoying Max’s hard arm circling beneath her breasts. “And it’s nice to occasionally explore that outside tower, even as it’s amusing to learn the various neglected rooms in the main part of the castle. But like visiting foreign lands, I’m just visiting those places. Home is my library.”

He hugged her tighter. “For me, the world is my home. But the best room in my home is wherever you are. So if you need this library to be home, I will find a way to save it. Once I do, they can’t send you away.”

“That’s quite preposterous, and you know it.” But she kissed him again. “I love that you say these things though.”

“Tomorrow, you will be mine and will read Latin to me,” he whispered into her hair. “Tonight, we will pretend this room is the only world we know.”

Could she make Max her whole world?