Ethereal because she was like an angel—-
Ethereal because she had always seemed too perfect for this world—-
And she still did.
She was and would always be ethereal to him because Ilse was his first love.
His only love.
Chapter Ten
The rusty bells hanging on the door chimed in welcome as Ilse walked inside Byron & Company, a bookstore-cum-café that took up ground floor space of one of RLD’s oldest buildings. Open twenty-four hours, the store had become a refuge of sorts for Ilse, and right now she needed that.
Mr. Peters, the gray-haired shop owner, looked up from behind the register the moment she entered, and he nodded curtly to her in greeting. “Done with the tours?” he questioned with a grunt.
“Ja, mijnheer.” She didn’t mind his gruff tone at all, knowing that under the tough, wizened exterior was a lovely man who preferred to spend most of his time with books because he didn’t know how to make friends.
“A new Austen edition arrived,” he informed her.
Ilse perked up. “I’ll check it out.”
He grunted.
“Thanks for telling me!”
But Mr. Peters had already turned his back on her, having gone back to reviewing the receipts in his hands.
Ilse took her time strolling down the aisle, her gaze drifting from one tall, wooden bookshelf to another. By the time she reached the classics section, she heard the bells chime out once more andwondered absently about what kind of person would have a need to visit a bookstore in RLD at two in the morning.
Maybe that person was like her, unable to find escape in sleep.
Or maybe she was being too fanciful, and the newcomer only wanted a cup of coffee.
Taking a left on the last aisle, she immediately spotted the new book Mr. Peters had spoken of.There you are,Ilse thought. As she reached for the book with the pretty floral cover, she caught a glimpse of the shadow moving on the carpet.
The newcomer, Ilse realized absently. And judging by the look and length of it, Mr. Peters’ customer was a rather tall man. How surprising. Majority of De Wallen’s tourists might be males, but book shopping was unlikely on top of their priorities.
Walking away, Ilse concentrated on perusing the book, running her fingers over the embossed book jacket to have a feel of its texture. Pausing midway to the register, she was in the act of slipping the jacket off to check the book’s actual cover when she realized that she was being followed.
Ilse frowned.Go away, pervert.
But the shadow behind her remained.
She took several steps forward and almost stiffened when the shadow moved as well.
Her gaze flew to Mr. Peters, but the old man once again had his back to her and appeared completely engrossed with his bookkeeping.
Ilse slowly and cautiously took a step forward, and the shadow moved accordingly. She took a step back, and when the shadow retreated as well, Ilse nearly threw her hands up in frustration.
Everything comes in threes, they had said. And she supposed this was her third gift from the department of men trouble. A pervert – or even worse, a stalker – to serve as the cherry on top, following right after Issac, and—-
And that was when she sensed it.
Something familiar, a kind of heat that made her heart beat hard and ache at the same time.
The book dropped from her fingers, landing on the carpet in a silent thud.
The shadow started to move.
