He nodded. “More than anything.”
A slow breath escaped her lips as she replaced the book on the shelf. For the next half a minute, there was nothing but silence. Nothing but the light dancing across his shirt, the outline of his body, and his hands tucked in his fitted pockets.
Emma swallowed and cleared her throat, feeling the heat return to her face.
“Shall we move on?” she asked, her throat burning.
CHAPTER 21
The candles burned softlyand bathed the library in amber light and shadow. Emma slowly moved along the shelves, the leather bindings cool under her fingertips. She did not rush. The silence instead felt honest.
She couldn’t imagine how long she had been standing in this room, marveling at the number of books here. Books she couldn’t imagine Jack had. Books she had heard of but never seen. Books she didn’t even think existed.
Jack had left a few minutes ago to speak with some guards, and in those precious moments of solitude, Emma had read through a few other books.
Her eyes settled on her dress as she placed a slim book of poetry back in its place. She didn’t exactly know what she had been expecting while Ava was dressing her earlier that evening, but coming into a library in a red silk dress suddenly felt like immense overkill.
Ye didnae think this one through very well, did ye?
Jack came back a few minutes later. He did not speak at first, did not make a noise. He stood close enough that she could sense him, then he stepped beside her and plucked a thin, worn volume off a shelf.
Emma squinted her eyes as the book settled on his fingers. The front page glistened in gold yellow, and he read it aloud just as she did.
“Tales of Eve,” he said. “I doubt half the tales are decent.”
“Decent?”
“Eve McAllister,” Jack resumed, his voice clear. “She was a friend of me grandfaither’s. According to his story, Eve was a rather… curious woman. She gave in to many of her desires and documented her experiences.”
“I see,” Emma murmured, at a loss for words. Jack could see it as well. “So why do ye still have it?”
“Because it is a rare volume? Because I have found that sometimes truth can be found in the midst of indecency rather than in sermons?”
Emma swallowed, her words failing her once again. From where she stood, the line of Jack’s jaw was visible, and so was the stubble on it. She swallowed and shifted her gaze to the bookinstead. He opened it to a page that had been thumbed more than the rest.
His voice was low and even as he read a few lines. The verse was bold and sure of itself. Perhaps a bit too sure.
They had more vulgar details than needed, and the way he read them…
Good God, the way hereadthem.
Heat rose in her face before she could stop it, and she closed her eyes for a second, then opened them with as much composure as she could gather. Except his eyes were no longer on the page. They were on hers and were twinkling with mirth.
“Daenae laugh,” she huffed, feeling the heat spread to the roots of her hair.
Good going, Emma.
“Hard nae to when ye keep lookin’ at me like that,” he teased.
“Like what?”
“Like the words are crawling across yer skin.”
She opened her mouth to speak, perhaps to snap at him, but he gave her the book before she could get any words out. Sheswallowed, smiled at him, and closed the book. Feeling his eyes on her, she slid it back into place. “How about we try again, me Laird? This time, maybe something with less bite.”
“Less bite,” he repeated, as if weighing the words. “Or perhaps more.”
“Less,” she said, her voice firmer now, though she was still smiling.
