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

more, but you keep surprising me.” She brought his head down so she could kiss him for his half-rats suggestion.

Max caressed her breasts and responded with alacrity, then reluctantly set her back. “If that means you wish to explore instead of being ravished, you’d better find a safer way of expressing yourself, my love.”

It never failed to thrill her to be called his love. She knew this man. Those words did not come to him easily, so she cherished them more.

“Would we shock the books if we tried both?” she asked teasingly, pleased that he did not mind her forwardness. “I believe the testers drank themselves into a stupor in the cellar, and Mr. Folkston had them carried to Crowley’s carriage, but I fear they will be back tomorrow.”

“If they come back, it will be after I’ve left for the city,” he said regretfully. “The barrister has arranged to meet with the judge while my cousins and schoolmates are still here to act as my witnesses. We’ll have to leave after breakfast.”

She wrapped her arms around his waist and rested her head against his shoulder. “I cannot believe your uncle will continue with this lawsuit. Surely he must admit you are who you are after today.”

“Not if he and Crowley have other plans for this property. They’d hoped to have you cast out today, it seems. They wanted to settle the matter before the judge rules. I don’t know what they plan next. Since Crowley mines his land, he may have discovered the shale. My uncle may be one of his investors. If they suspect there is oil, they will fight us tooth and nail.” He kissed her temple. “I’m sorry if my woes have complicated yours.”

“We’re in this together,” she said firmly. “Tomorrow will be a terrible or glorious day. We can celebrate or commiserate here tomorrow night. Let’s use our few spare hours to see what we can do. I really think you’re the one who has given me the confidence to be what I must be.”

Max kissed her again, then reached for the robes the servants had laid upon the bed. “Wrap yourself up and let us visit our ancestors.”

“I am so very fortunate that you are a Malcolm as well as an Ives and understand.” She wrapped the robe around her while he lit a lantern.

He draped an arm over her shoulders and led the way back to the small salon and the stairs. “Do not expect me to always be so understanding. Tonight, I am blotto with drink and love and excitement and cannot give you the attention you deserve. Tomorrow may be a different story.”

“I like all your stories. Just keep me in them, please.” Lydia held her breath as she stepped through the hidden portal to her secret world. The structure might not be so secret, she supposed, but the contents were known only to her.

Max held up the light, illuminating the shadows of dark shelves, and she attuned herself to the whispers.

“I will read you the pertinent passages on the tower’s foundation later,” she said. “If you need more, we can ask again. Right now, I need to know about me.”

“Just tell me what to do,” he murmured, almost in reverence. “Your Latin lady was quite impressive.”

“I think she was more likely Scots,” Lydia said. “Just educated. And a bit cynical.” She touched her belly but didn’t mention her hopes and fears. It was much too soon to mention a child who might bear the same bold spirit. “I need to know how librarians are tested and what makes a good librarian.”

She said it with confidence, because she’d heard these books. She simply had to open herself to them in ways different from Mr. C’s. She was fairly certain no spirit had ever possessed him.

The books responded to her certainty, calling to her through that part of her mind she opened to them. She could hear disapproval and confusion from some. But one spoke louder than the others, with irritation and impatience. She could hear the voice! Had Mr. C heard voices?

Smiling, she lifted her robe and hurried down the spiraling stairs to the place where the book pushed out at her. Max followed more slowly, holding up the lantern.

“If you ever wanted to murder me, you could push me down these steps, and no one would ever find me,” she said absently, letting the book open to relevant pages.

“Why the devil would you say something like that?” he asked in shock.

Lydia blinked, reviewed what she’d said, then held up the book. “It has happened. Apparently the lady is speaking.”

Max stared at the book in horror. “That’s what those pages say? Someone was murdered here?”

“It’s a very, very old tower and not always a library. Probably lots of someones have died here,” she said absently, scanning the pages and flipping rapidly, fascinated. “But it is the murdered librarian who interests me. This is the journal of the woman who had to earn her way into the librarian’s position after her predecessor was killed by a jealous stepsister. Apparently, the stepsister thought she could acquire the castle upon her sister’s death or disappearance.”

“She killed her sister and left her body in the library?” Max asked in revulsion, looking over her shoulder at the pages she read.

“It seems so. The younger stepsister had no gift and no interest in the library, but she was financially supported by her older stepsister, who was only interested in books, not the parties the younger one wanted. Or so it is surmised by the Malcolm lady who wrote this. She was the one who heeded the library’s call and traveled many miles to visit the castle.”

“Take it upstairs and read it to me, please. This is why they test librarians now?” He took her arm and helped her up the stairs while she clung to the book.

“Yes, it seems so,” Lydia said excitedly. “The trust’s solicitors were called in. The younger sister claimed the older one had disappeared,