“The chimney sweep?” she offered dryly.
He chuckled and flashed that irritatingly appealing smile again.
“You’re not very good at being snappish, Miss Librarian.” Leaning toward her, he whispered, “But I admire the effort.”
Tess made the splutter-squeak sound once more, and the man managed to look the slightest bit contrite.
“Now stop hissing at me and tell me your name,” he said softly.
“Tell me your name first so that Lady Goddard can pass it on to the police for—”
He reached out and hovered two fingers over her lips. She felt the warmth of them, but he did not touch her. “I was invited here to assist Lady Goddard. Seems that you were too. So we might as well be allies. Now tell me your name.”
Dominic didn’t know why he was determined to flirt with the young woman who’d stormed into the library and looked at him as if he was the worst sort of villain. She was a beauty with sunbeam-gold hair and eyes as bright green as spring’sfirst leaves. Most distracting were her lips: a too-perfect Cupid’s-bow mouth. Sharp little peaks but with a full lower lip lush enough to be a mighty distraction.
Of course, he’d bedded beauties aplenty. Yet there was something about the fiery spirit of the petite librarian glaring at him that he found himself determined to explore.
Coming to Goddard House, even when the lady of the residence was thankfully out, had made him irritable and on guard. The lady librarian’s presence changed all of that. She’d altered the whole energy of the room when she’d swept in and shouted at him.
“Apologize first,” she demanded, one delicate brow arched high.
Dom’s brow shot up too. “To her ladyship?” He shook his head. “Not necessary. She asked me to come and have a go at...” He flicked a hand toward the discard pile he’d started. “Sorting the wheat from the chaff, if you will.”
That information shocked her. Her thick lashes fluttered as she blinked. She was dismayed, maybe even disappointed. There was the slightest tremble of her chin, and he immediately wanted to take back what he’d said.
Seeing even a bit of her righteous fury dimmed made him feel like the miscreant she seemed to think he was. If she was Lady Goddard’s hired librarian, hehadmade a proper muck of her efforts. All of the volumes he’d pulled down had been arranged alphabetically by author, and now that he thought of it, they’d been grouped by topic as well.
“None of it is chaff,” she said, regaining a bit of her vehemence. She cast her gaze over at the pile and her expression softened, as if she was looking at objects that deserved reverence and care. “A book is such an effort to produce, for thewriter, the binder, those who set the print. And while some of these may not fetch much from a bookseller—”
“They won’t fetch much of anything, Miss...” He gave her a faux frown, then shrugged. “I still don’t know your name.”
She took a step closer. “Even if no one wished to buy them, they could be donated. Many who cannot afford fine leather-bound books would love to have one to read.”
Color rose in her cheeks as she warmed to her subject. She leaned closer, lifting a finger to point at him.
“And,” she said, that damning finger of hers almost touching his chest, “if Lady Goddard asked you to assess the books, I highly doubt she wished you to treat them so carelessly. You may have damaged spines, bent pages, ripped the thread in the binding. They are her inheritance, sir, whatever you may think of them.”
Dom looked down at her finger and felt the oddest flash of disappointment that she wasn’t touching him. He was tempted to lean toward her but knew she’d balk. Yet he wondered if her touch would electrify him. If all that fierce emotion of hers could jolt the parts of him that felt deadened and bring them back to life.
Her finger was ink-stained, he noted. Had she penned some fervent letter to a lover or set about writing a list of every little way she intended to conquer Lady Goddard’s library today? The latter, he decided.
When he looked up again, he studied her face. She was close enough for him to see freckles spread across her cheeks in a delightfully disarrayed pattern. The flashes of sunflower-yellow in her green eyes. The little wisps of hair that had escaped pins to frame her smooth cheeks. Then his gaze fell to her mouth. Good lord, such a lush confection.
He’d wanted to kiss plenty of women upon first sight. Lust had never been anything he avoided. And despite the debacle with Lady Goddard, it was usually effortlessly mutual. Women were attracted to him, and he rarely minded living up to the roguish reputation he’d acquired.
“Do I have something on my face, sir?” she asked, her words sharp and laced with irritation. A spark lit her eyes.
He’d taken it for heat, for a simmer of interest much like he felt for her.
“You’re staring quite rudely,” she added with a bit less ire.
He was staring like an addlepated fool. Good grief, it wasn’t like him to tip from flirtation straight into boorishness. He’d been treated rudely by her employer in this very room, and he had no interest in subjecting any woman to that.
“Forgive me,” he said with true regret. “You’re lovely, and I—” He stopped because she made that noise again. That odd squawk she’d emitted a few times already. Then she scoffed as if he’d made the most outlandish claim she’d ever heard.
Miss Librarian was not used to being complimented, it seemed, and for such a beauty, that was a mystery.
He’d miscalculated badly. The last thing he wished to do was cause her embarrassment.
