“Bring them to the library, Gerald.” Milton’s voice called down from the upper landing. “That is where books belong.”
“I should like to sort them in my private chamber,” Elizabeth objected.
“So you can hide from me what you read?”
She wished to hide fromhim, but that was neither here nor there. “I am not ashamed of what I read, sir.”
He looked down at her, into her almost. She imagined he was picturing her naked, because last night he’d made her lie very still upon his bed as he’d slowly stared his fill. His scrutiny had thoroughly unnerved her, but also made her tingle, like it did even now.
“Allow me to show you my library, Elizabeth, that you may assess my collection and determine it worthy of adding your own.” He motioned for her to follow.
She trudged up the enormous staircase, two steps behind him as he led her through his cavernous townhouse—a home she had yet to fully explore. Yet when Milton pushed open a pair of weighty double doors, Elizabeth gaped.
“I take it you approve my sheer quantity of books, but do you approve their contents, I wonder?”
Row upon row, shelves floor to ceiling, his library stole her breath. Light streamed in through south-facing windows, reflecting a dome of cerulean blue. Unlike the rest of her husband’s residence, his library was not overly ornate, its chairs and tables more utilitarian than decorative. A stunning Persian carpeted the floor with birds of turquoise nesting in leaves of verdant green, all woven into the rug’s dark maroon fibers.
The smell of leather and parchment pricked Elizabeth’s nostrils. What adventures lay await betwixt the many pages here? What worlds remained uncharted, what art unseen? She must tread lightly in such a holy space, though like a magnet, the stacks called to her.Escape.She ran her fingers over spines embossed in lettering proclaiming Shakespeare, Chaucer, Dante, Sappho. Euripedes smiled back. Science. Mathematics. Latin. Greek. Geography. What riches Milton had! And what was thisOne Thousand and One Nightsshe spied?
“Does it suffice, Elizabeth?” His voice pulled her back.
“Sir, I am bewitched.”
She pulled thoseNightsfrom the shelf to slowly turn the book’s pages, a universe in ink, ripe for plunder.
“Good.” His voice again interrupted. “I’ll have Gerald bring your chests up. You may show me what volumes you’ve brought.”
“I—”
“Elizabeth.” His tone warned. “I should like to know what my wife reads.”
She swallowed, not in fear this time, but pleasure. Would he approve her paltry collection? Surely the man read, if he had a library like this. Or was this room merely meant for show?
She thrust her nose back inside the book she held, surprised by how her hands trembled. It was too much to hope her husband shared her love for the written word.
A minute—ten minutes? an hour?—later, Milton returned with the footmen carrying her heavy chests. These they deposited beside a long reading table.
The Baron bent to undo the latch on one.
She shutOne Thousand and One Nights. “Allow me to assist, sir.”
“Elizabeth, there’s no need to?—”
Their heads collided and she tumbled, inelegantly, to the floor.
Milton helped her up. “Are you always this addled around books?” His hand steadied her as she dusted herself off.
“No.” She flushed. “Just … nervous.”
“Nervous around your husband?” His mouth twitched. “Why Lizzie, I am flattered.”
She took courage. “I’ve known you such a short while, sir, and in that time we’ve?—”
“Had our share of disagreements, yes. But we’ve had our share of enjoyment too, have we not?” His smoldering look sent her insides galloping.
“What I meant was, I know little of your interests—outside the bedroom, that is.”
Their eyes met.
