Stella handled the knife as though it were a snake. “Unless this is an extreme way for me to open the mail, I’d rather not.”
Jack closed Stella’s fingers over the hilt and held his hand over hers. “It will at least surprise him long enough for you to scream for help.”
Stella’s eyes widened, and her pulse quickened. “How scaryisthis version?”
“He’s a low-life pirate willing to do whatever is necessary to getwhat he wants,” Mr. Crusoe said. “And he’ll likely try to take you captive, looking the way you do. But we’ll keep you and the children safe from the devil’s army.”
Stella glanced at Jack. “Looking the way I do? The devil’s army?” She eyed the knife in her hand and held it awkwardly by her thigh. “I’ll take the second-floor historical section.”
“I advise against splitting up,” Jack said again.
“Noted. Let’s do this fast. The quicker we find him, the quicker we can make sure nothing else bad happens,” she said as she walked up the main staircase, holding the knife away from her body and praying she didn’t fall and cut herself. She headed toward the historical section, where she peered around bookshelves and glanced under tables.It’s not like he would hide under there,she thought after she’d leaned over and looked beneath a third study table.
On a final sweep of the historical section, she glanced at the far corner and gasped. A lean, well-built man stood with his back to her. He wore a black leather duster jacket over fitted black pants and black boots that came up to his knees. His close-cropped hair matched the color of his clothing, and he stood with one hand pressed against the tall glass window that showed a view of the grassy lawn behind the library. His other arm hung at his side, ending with a sharpened, gleaming silver hook.
He turned at the sound of her inhale. With his strikingly light eyes and scarred, smirking face, this Captain Hook was definitelynotDisney’s or Barrie’s version.
Chapter 13
Stella gaped at the pirate. Hook’s five o’clock shadow looked like a permanent fixture, as though he would never grow a beard and he’d never be clean-shaven. Heavy, dark brows shadowed his forget-me-not blue eyes. She was most taken aback by the fact that he was so attractive, although in a frightening way—like the way a dragon is mesmerizing in its splendor but also dangerous and deadly.
“Hello, love,” Hook said in a thick British accent. His gaze drifted toward the knife she held loosely. “Come to do me in, have you? I don’t fancy you the type.”
Stella opened her mouth to agree with him, but Hook moved quickly toward her and snatched the knife from her hand before she could react. He tossed it aside. The knife skittered across the floor until it bounced off a bookshelf and disappeared under a table. Then he looped his arm around Stella’s waist, and she stumbled forward as he pressed her against him.
She struggled and squirmed before his hook came into her peripheral vision. She stopped as sunlight glinted off the silver.
“It’s lonely at sea,” he said, his breath stinking of rum and cloves.
“You might consider a toothbrush on your voyages,” she said, trying to breathe as his grip tightened on her waist.
Hook rubbed his scruffy face against her cheek like a cat brushing against its owner’s leg. Stella scrunched her eyes closed. Under different circumstances, it might have been somewhat thrilling to be held close by a roguish pirate, but the hook was too terrifying, especially since he was sliding it through her hair at the moment.
“You smell like caramel,” he whispered against her neck.
If she screamed, would Hook stab her? He shoved her back against the wall. Her panicked gaze followed the trail of a thin vertical scar that stretched from his lower left eye to the corner of his lip.
“You sure are a lovely thing.”
Hook pressed his mouth to hers, and she nearly choked on her own breath. He kissed her like a man completely starved for physical contact, like a man who needed her breath to survive the next few seconds.
Then a loudthunksounded, and Hook released his grip on her. His body crumpled like a rag doll to the floor. Stella stared at his leather-clad body lying in a heap at her feet, her heart nearly leaping out of her chest.
Jack stood in front of her with a book in his hands. “War and Peace.” He turned the book over so she could see the spine.
“I’ve just... He...” Stella swiped the back of her hand across her lips.
Jack dropped the book on the nearest table. Then he leaned down, hooked his arms beneath the pirate’s armpits, and dragged Hook away from Stella’s feet. “Mr. Crusoe!” he called. He returned to Stella and put his hand on her arm. “Are you okay?”
Stella tried to pull her trembling fingers through her hair, but they caught on her curls. “Okayis not how I would describe myselfat the moment.” She pressed her hands to her chest as if that would calm her heartbeat. “You gave me a knife, and you attacked with a book? Isn’t that the opposite of what should have happened?”
When Crusoe appeared, Jack said, “Will you take Hook down to the archives and tie him to a chair? Make sure he can’t get free. And take his sword. We don’t want him armed.”
Mr. Crusoe lifted Hook onto his back, draping the pirate’s arms over his shoulders, and carried him away. What would the people in the library think? Could they be convinced this was part of a play or reenactment?
“This has gottensoout of hand,” Stella said. She wiped her mouth again. “And unexpectedly scary. No wonder the kids were terrified. The appeal of pirate romance has completely evaporated for me.”
Jack walked over to the table, picked upWar and Peace, and returned it to its shelf. “At least we caught him. Sorry it wasn’t before he...”
