I realized he was waiting for me to say something. I sucked in a breath, trying to gather my scattered thoughts around the increasing pain in my head. It was really starting to sting, and whatever was dripping down my face was nearing my chin.
“There’s a cat in here,” I said dully. “Is a cat supposed to be in the library?”
His brows drew tighter. He glanced briefly back at the cat. “Yes, well, she usually doesn’t cause trouble.”
The man pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and offered it to me. “You’re bleeding.”
I blinked down at the handkerchief, wondering who the hell still carried handkerchiefs, as what he said sank in…Blood.My pulse spiked.
A curse slipped from between my teeth as I snatched the square of fabric from him and dabbed at the wet trail down the side of my face. The white was instantly stained crimson. My chest tightened.
No.
Another curse left me when I realized my hands were smeared with it. I couldn’t bleed right now. I had to be in court soon. I couldn’t get blood on my clothes—they were the only nice ones I’d brought.
At my obvious distress, the man stepped closer. “Can I help you?”
I looked up at him, distracted by the sincerity on his face. I took a breath, trying to calm my racing heart as I pressed the handkerchief to the sore, burning spot on my head, careful not to get my hands near my clothes.
“Are you—are you the librarian?”
The edge of his mouth twitched. “No, but I’m here often enough, I suppose.”
He stepped back and gestured toward the doorway. “Let me help. I know where they keep the first-aid kit.”
I hesitated. This man was a stranger, but I was quickly moving from panic to problem-solving mode. I needed to fix this—fast.
“That would be good,” I said tightly.
He led me through the maze of tomes and rooms to a table and chair situated in a nook between the shelves in a space labeledThe Study.
“Please, sit. I’ll be right back with the first-aid kit.” He then disappeared back through the stacks.
I lowered onto the hard wooden chair, lightheaded. I took a few deep breaths, trying to steady my pulse. The man wasn’t gone long before he came back with a red box, a bottle of water, and some paper towels.
He took the chair next to me, raising his hands toward me but not reaching. “Can I take a look?” he asked, voice soft.
I instantly tensed, my body locking up. I wasn’t about to let a stranger touch me.
“Thanks, but I can take care of it,” I said, voice taut like a thread about to snap.
His expression hardly changed, though I thought I caught the faintest downturn to his lips as he tilted his head. “Are you sure?”
“I’m sure.”
There was a long pause. I expected him to leave, but he didn’t. He simply sat there, waiting.
My knees started to bounce. The throbbing pain in my head intensified. He wouldn’t stop staring. Finally, I snapped.
“What?” It was more of a slash through the air than a question.
He leaned back, calm but unreadable. “Forgive me,” he said slowly. “I’m just wondering how you’re going to take care of yourself. Not that you can’t—but you don’t have to. I don’t mind helping. And Edith might have a heart attack if she finds out someone was hurt in her library.”
I shut my eyelids against the ache pulsing behind them. “Edith?” I asked, flustered.
“This is her family home,” he explained. “She donated the house to the town, but she and her granddaughter still live upstairs. They run the place.”
I could barely comprehend what he was talking about. I cautiously shook my head, careful not to dislodge the handkerchief. “I’m fine, really.”
