Her gaze flicked to the small table where the chess game was still set up from last night. Lyon had stared at that little fallen king for close to an hour, wrestling with himself and his desire, after she’d left. He’d finally given up and gone to bed, which hadn’t been a success at all.
Bonnie made a little noise which had his attention snapping back to her. She was blushing, her gaze on his jaw instead of meeting his eyes. “About last night…”
Did she regret her demand?
“What about it?”
She swallowed, then met his eyes. “I enjoyed playing with you.”
At a loss for what to say, he merely dipped his chin.
She must’ve taken that as encouragement, because she continued. “I enjoyed getting to know more about you and Oliphant Castle. Thank you for sharing that with me.” She paused, and when he didn’t respond, one corner of her lips twitched upward. “Thank you for telling me about Keith.”
He nodded again. Then, because she was clearly expectingsomething, he managed, “Keith’s a good man.”
“He is.” She cocked her head, studying him. “Have you bathed?” Then, as if having no idea how scandalous that question sounded, she continued blithely, “I confess, as much as I am enjoying my time here with you, I look forward to a proper bath and change of clothes. The sponge baths are not exactly luxurious, no offense. I know you did not expect a guest in the middle of a blizzard.”
The reminder she’d be leaving soon spurred him into action.
He stalked across the room, and although he knew he must look fearsome, Bonnie didn’t flinch. When he stopped in front of her and thrust out his hand to her, she didn’t hesitate to place her much smaller one in his.
And as his fingers closed around hers, he had a sense of…rightness.
He knew he should let her go—in so many ways—but he couldn’t make himself release her. Instead, he tugged her along, and she went oh-so-trustingly.
“Lyon?” she asked, as they stepped into the corridor. Dozens of generations of Oliphants had walked across these stones, and although they were now covered by carpet, he felt the connection seep through the soles of his boots.
“I’m going to show you something.”Give you something; a precious gift.He knew she’d understand.
“Do I get to guess?”
Silently, he shrugged, but guided her toward the end of the hall.
“Hmm. Is it a nice, warm bath? Do you have running water here after all? Is that room a bathing chamber?”
They’d reached the door he’d been aiming for. The door which he normally avoided, despite knowing Mrs. Oliphant kept the room clean. Reaching for the knob, he paused and tilted his chin toward Bonnie.
“This was once the women’s solar. My study was the laird’s solar, more or less his office. This chamber is where the women of the household gathered—those embroideries were likely completed here—and it connected to the lady of the keep’s bedchamber.”
She was nodding along, but there was a sparkle in her blue eyes when she cut him a glance. “So it would have to be a very large bathing chamber, if that is what it is, hmm?”
He took a deep breath. “No’ quite.”
Then he opened the door.
Her gasp told him, not only did she understand what she was seeing, but she appreciated it as much as he’d hoped she would. With wide eyes, she brushed past him, and hecould see the awe in her expression as she tilted her head back to take in the shelves, which lined every wall but one, and reached to the ceiling.
And every single shelf was lined with books.
Books about history, books about engineering, books about biology and physiology. Books about other cultures, books about sea trade, and every atlas he’d been able to find. And the novels took up one entire wall; romances and adventures and mysteries, each one certain to spark every imagination.
This library had been his haven, his place of comfort. There were the pair of luxurious chairs in front of the long-cold hearth and the lamps just waiting to be lit. When he’d married Rose, he’d hoped she’d find the same joy in these books, but she wasn’t interested. He’d consoled himself by hanging her artwork on the remaining wall so she was with him, in a sense, even when he was alone.
But he hadn’t taken refuge here since her death. The death he could’ve prevented, but hadn’t.
If he closed his eyes right now, it wasn’t Rose he imagined sitting in one of those overstuffed chairs, it was the woman who even now was slowly spinning in the center of the room, with a look of wonder on her face.
“Lyon, this is…amazing.”
