AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I marched back up to my mother’s place, but I couldn’t shake the angel’s voice echoing in myhead.
I’m sorry. I missedyou.
Chapter Eight
Rose
My gaze skimmed over the same page I’d been pretending to read for the last ten minutes. I tugged the wool blanket tighter around me, ignoring its scratchy texture against my neck. The air in the manor’s library wasn’t that cool, but I was playing my role to thefullest.
And it was because of that role that I couldn’t concentrate on this book, even though reading normally came as easily to me as breathing. My heart was thumping too fast, my thoughts too scattered. I kept listening for someone to come fetch me. We were meant to be going to visit one of Dad’s friends for dinner any time now. But I didn’t plan to be around forthat.
Footsteps sounded outside the door. I started to straighten up, and then thought better of it, hunching over instead. I rubbed my eyes with the back of my hand to reddenthem.
The door whispered open. It was my consort-to-be who steppedinside.
“Here you are,” Derek said. “Nose in abook?”
Something about his dry tone made me bristle. “It’s a good one,” I offered, andcoughed.
His gaze drifted through the room with its vast array of mahogany shelves, all of them packed with books of various sorts. “Well,” he said, “it is an awful lot of paper, isn’tit?”
It took me a second to find my tongue. Was that really all he saw in here? “Not much of a reader?” Iasked.
He shook his head. “So much out in the world to see. I’d rather experience it myself than read about what someone else did. Or some total lies an author madeup.”
Philomena had grown bored with my sick act, but at that she popped out from behind one of the bookcases. “Pardon me?Lies? I really must takeexception.”
“Me too, Phil,” I said in my head. And to Derek, out loud, “I guess I like that I can experience things second-hand that I never could on myown.”
“If I can’t do it myself, it can’t be that worthwhile,” Derek said, with a grin that was probably supposed to be charming, but right then only came off assmarmy.
“How could you not know your fiancé deplores books?” Phil hissed atme.
A good question. I hesitated, gripping the one I was holding tighter. I’d simply never brought it up with him, had I? The novels I loved had always felt like something private, little friendships I didn’t want others intruding on. I’dneverhad anyone to share my love for them with, and I hadn’t been about to start revealing that side of myself to the Portland witching elite. And even after a couple weeks in this house together, Derek still felt partly like astranger.
He knew I’d been working on committing old records to computer for the primary Archive of witching folk. He’d asked a few questions that had seemed genuine enough when I’d mentioned I was gathering material to try to compile a more comprehensive modern history of our community. What had he really beenthinking?
I shook off those thoughts. We had plenty of time. Maybe I could get him to come around. It wasn’t as if any of the other eligible witching men I’d met had been avid readersanyway.
“I was instructed to bring you out to the car,” Derek said, still grinning. “Shall we go?” He offered hiselbow.
I made a show of coughing again, louder this time. Then I swiped my hand across my forehead. “I don’t think I can come to the dinner after all. I was feeling a little under the weather this morning, and it’s gotten worse fast. I was hoping that doing a little reading would perk me up, but… it’d probably be best if I just go tobed.”
Derek’s grin faded. “I’m sorry to hear that. Should I ask your father about getting you a doctor, or something from thepharmacy?”
I shook my head. “I already took something for my fever. It’s just taking a while kickingin.”
“Well, I could at least escort you to yourroom.”
“I don’t hear him offering to stay back and keep you company,” Philomena muttered as I swayed to my feet, pretending my legs were weak. “He should be down in the kitchen throwing together some chicken soup for his ladylove.”
“I’d be willing to bet Derek has never cooked any kind of meal in his life,” I told her. “I mean, neither haveI.”
She huffed, but she stayed silent as my consort-to-be led me out into the hall. He glanced around on the way to my bedroom, with a brief shake of hishead.
“This old building is awfully stuffy, isn’t it? When the house is ours, we can see about doing some renovations. Bigger windows, knock down a few walls to open up some of the spacesmore.”
I bit my tongue to hold in a pained sound. “My dad had the kitchen updated not long before we last left residence here,” I offered. But I loved the maze of rooms and the way the sunlight streaked through the narrowwindows.
