“Nay,” Lyon growled.
His tone didn’t seem to dissuade Bonnie. She straightened and moved to the next shelf where—among the tomes on mechanics and engineering Lyon preferred to keep here in his study rather than the too-painful library—the framed fragments of embroidery rested.
“These are incredible,” she murmured, tilting her head to one side to study the linen fragments. “The colors have faded, of course, but imagine how vibrant they must have once been. I cannot quite make out the subject…”
Despite his intentions, Lyon found himself scooping the gas lamp from the desk and crossing to her, glancing toward the window. When had it started to snow?
He was only now realizing how dark the room had become, and not for the first time, wondering how difficult it would be to wire this room, and a few others, with electric lights.
Less risk of fire, at least.
That alone would be worth the cost.
When he arrived at her side with the lamp, she offered him a brilliant smile of thanks. No words, just that smile, and Lyon was thankful social niceties didn’t require him to speak, because he didn’t think he could at that moment. Her smile had knocked him with the same force as one of Keith’s blows, but he didn’t think he’d recover anytime soon.
“Oh, that is much better. Here, lift it higher,” she commanded, and numbly, he did. “Fascinating!”
She leaned closer to the glass-encased linen, her nose almost touching as she studied the tiny, ancient figures. “Why, it is a battle scene, is it not? Look, there is a severed limb, and this must be blood.”
Lyon had spent many hours poring over these embroideries, almost as fascinated as he’d been by the sketches and designs inside the connecting shelves. These were genuine works of art, even if the subject was a little…strange.
“Battles, aye.” He cleared his throat, unused to this strange desire towantto speak, but compelled to do so nonetheless. “I read somewhere that Nessa Oliphant, the woman who designed and created these, was a verra unusual lady.”
“She would have to be,” murmured Bonnie, her finger tracing the blow of a battle-ax. “Just remarkable. I am certain I can still see the facial expressions.”
When she reached up and took the lamp from his hand, her fingers brushed against his, and he instinctively tightenedhis hold, which resulted in a brief tug-of-war, until his brain caught up and commanded he release his hold. She smiled again, and part of him numbly wondered if it’d be worth it to hold on to the lamp longer if only she’d smile at him again.
Keep yer cock in check, lad. She’s a lady, and ye’re a…
A beast.
Aye, the reminder was helpful.
She’d taken the lamp and moved on, murmuring thoughtfully as she went. She found another collection of ancient embroidery, framed together by some long-dead ancestor. “Just beautiful. Look! In this one, the couple appears to be embracing. This woman was one of your grandmothers?”
He shrugged. “Likely no’ a direct line. There’s family trees in the library which show her as a sister to Duncan and Malcolm Oliphant.”
She straightened; her brows high. “The Duncan Oliphant who made that necklace?” When he shrugged—Duncan was a common enough name—she pressed on. “And who was Malcolm Oliphant?”
Now that his hands were free, he crossed his arms in front of his chest again as he nodded to the shelves to the right of the now-gray window. “An inventor. Some of his sketches and designs are preserved over there.”
She lifted the lamp and peered in their direction, but soon glanced back at the embroidery. That’s right; she likely wasn’t as interested in the mechanical inventions of his ancestor as he was, since she’d come all this way to procure sources for her book on women’s history.
“Oh, this one appears to—” Frowning, she shifted the lamp and leaned closer. “That is not an embrace, is it?”
It was the speculative tone of her voice which made his lips twitch. This woman had barged into his private study and didn’t bat an eye at his near nudity, then demanded she be shown his personal family heirlooms. Ofcoursea little thing like embroidered medieval pornography wouldn’t bother her.
“Nay,” he said drily. “It’s a bit more.”
“Good heavens, her leg is up over his shoulder!” Bonnie cocked her head to one side. “I did not think such a thing was possible, despite my reading.”
She said it so matter-of-factly, he was compelled to point out, “It is.”
She glanced over at him, her lips curling upward.
But as soon as their gazes met and she saw what he suspected was smirking knowledge in his eyes, her eyes widened. Bonnie’s mouth opened in a silent “oh,” and a blush stained her cheeks pink.
So shecouldbe embarrassed? Good.
