Emily’s breathing had evened into sleep. Aaron watched Louise carefully extricate herself from the bed, tucking the covers around the small form with practiced care. She bent to press a kiss to Emily’s forehead, and something inside Aaron’s chest cracked at the tenderness of the gesture.
He hastened down the hallway, not wanting to be caught lurking like some lovesick boy. His feet carried him to the library without conscious thought, seeking the sanctuary of books and silence to settle his disturbed thoughts.
The fire had burned low, casting more shadows than light across the leather spines.
Aaron searched for a particular volume, one he hadn’t touched in years. His mother’s poetry collection, words that she had annotated in her careful script.
He was reaching for it on the top shelf when the door opened behind him.
“Oh!” Louise stood frozen in the doorway, a book clutched to her chest. “I apologize. I didn’t mean to disturb you.”
“You’re not disturbing anything.” Aaron turned to face her fully, drinking in the sight of her in the firelight. She still wore the simple blue dress from dinner, but her hair remained loose from reading to Emily, making her look younger, softer. “Returning the book?”
Louise held up the volume of fairy tales. “Emily insists it lives in here rather than the nursery. She says the books get lonely if they’re separated from their friends.”
“A romantic notion for a six-year-old.”
“She gets it from our mother.” Louise moved to the children’s section, carefully placing the book in its spot. “She believed everything had feelings, even inanimate objects. Used to apologize to furniture when she bumped into it.”
A faint smile tugged at Aaron’s mouth before he could stop it.
“My aunt told me mine was the same.” The words came quietly, surprising even him. “I never knew her, not truly, but Cecilia says she couldn’t bring herself to discard wilted flowers. She said it felt like abandoning something that had once brought joy into the world.”
Louise turned to face him, her expression soft with understanding. “You were looking for something of hers?”
Aaron gestured to the poetry section. “She loved poetry. Made notes in all the margins about what she thought the poet really meant versus what he wrote.”
“May I see?”
He reached up and pulled down the slim volume, its leather binding worn soft with handling, though not by him. His father must have read it countless times in private, hoarding even this piece of her.
Louise moved closer to see better in the dim light, close enough that Aaron caught her scent of lavender and something uniquely her. She opened the book carefully, reverently, finding a page at random.
“She walks in starlight, quiet as a whispered wish,’” Louise read his mother’s annotation aloud. “But true beauty isn’t inthe walking, poet. It’s in standing still and letting wonder find you.”
Aaron smiled despite the ache in his chest. “She had opinions about everything.”
“She sounds wonderful.” Louise turned another page, then another, her fingers gentle on the aged paper. “These notes are like having a conversation with her.”
“I never thought of it that way.”
Louise looked up at him, and they were standing so close he could see the gold flecks in her brown eyes. “I’m sorry you never knew her.”
“Don’t be. How can you miss someone you never met?”
“The same way you can love someone you shouldn’t.” The words hung between them, heavy with meaning.
Aaron’s hand rose to cup her cheek. Louise leaned into the touch, her eyes fluttering closed. He bent his head, unable to resist the pull between them, and captured her mouth in a kiss that felt like coming home.
She responded immediately, the book sliding forgotten onto a side table as her arms wrapped around his neck. Aaron pulled her closer, backing her against the bookshelf as the kiss deepened. When her fingers tangled in his hair, he moved hismouth to her throat, finding that spot below her ear that always made her gasp.
“Aaron.” His name emerged as a breathless plea. “The servants …”
“Are abed.” But he pulled back slightly, resting his forehead against hers while they both struggled to breathe normally. “Though you’re right. Cecilia has an uncanny ability to appear at inconvenient moments.”
Louise laughed softly, her fingers still playing with the hair at his nape. “She means well.”
“She wants us together.” Aaron pulled back enough to see Louise’s face. “She’s about as subtle as Buttercup with a beef bone.”
