But for now she’d leave it.
She was also curious about his grandmother. From all accounts his father was a good, loving man. Which meant at some point, someone in this house had been loving too.
She had a lot of questions, but kept them to herself.
“So the library?”
“Down this way,” he said, leading them to the stairs. He put some physical distance between the two of them and she couldn’t help wondering if he regretted inviting her here.
But she didn’t ask and when they got to the library, she forgot all about that. It was full of floor-to-ceiling bookcases with ladders to reach the top shelves. There were overstuffed chairs positioned in the room and a window seat that overlooked the gardens in the back of the house.
“You do not disappoint, Conrad,” she said.
“Stick around. I’m just getting started.”
Ten
Conrad wasn’t used to second-guessing himself. It just wasn’t the way he operated. He moved forward and left regret behind him. But having Indy here wasn’t the smartest idea. She stirred fierce emotions like affection and caring. He struggled to deal with them, as he hadn’t really allowed himself to care for anyone other than Rory and Dash for a decade. Whether she meant to or not, Indy was making him feel.
She didn’t respond to his comment and he was happy enough for that. She moved into the library, which had large French doors that overlooked the patio and then the gardens below. But she didn’t move toward them. Instead she went to the bookshelves.
Just given what he’d seen of her shop, he wasn’t surprised that she liked books. This wasn’t his favorite room in the house and normally he avoided it but he wanted to make her smile. And he had. It was worth the too tight feeling of his skin.
She stood in front of the bookcase that housed some of the oldest and rarest collections of his family’s books. There was a genealogy of the Gilberts that went all the way back to a foolscap illuminated manuscript from the late 1400s up to today, which of course was leatherbound. He skipped past his family history to the bookshelf in the corner that had been his father’s favorite.
Unless he was drunk, he rarely allowed himself to think of his parents. But seeing their photo today had reminded him of this corner. He stooped down and, on the bottom shelf, pulled out a copy ofThe Three Musketeersby Alexandre Dumas. He held it loosely in one hand, reaching into the space created. He had to feel around for it, but then he caught the braided cord of the hidden book.
He pulled it out just as Indy wandered over to him. He stood up as she approached.
“What have you got there?” she asked.
“Three Musketeers.It was my dad’s favorite.”
“And that?” she asked pointing to the small, bound sheaf of papers held in his other hand.
He lifted it up to show her. “Something my dad and his brother wrote when they were younger. Dash and I found it one rainy summer day. I had forgotten about it until now.”
She came closer and put her hand on his arm. The touch went through him like fire and he started to pull away, but then stopped himself. What if Indy wasn’t different from other women? What if it was just his reaction to her? What if he was somehow making her into something he needed?
And if that was the case, maybe he should stop trying to see her in a different light. He put his arm around her shoulder and pulled her into the curve of his body. She seemed startled at first and then she put her arm around his waist.
“The Adventures of Blue and Brown...not the best title in the world,” she said.
“Yeah. Dad and Uncle Hamm were fraternal twins and had different color eyes...so that’s where the title comes from,” he said.
“Want to read it to me?” she suggested, taking his hand again and leading him over to the window seat.
He followed her, very aware that he wasn’t feeling stable. Like he was on the cusp of something. It didn’t feel like anger, but anger was his old home and the most comfortable of his emotions. This was different, and he wasn’t going to deny that it scared him. She sat down on one side and drew her legs up to her chest before resting her chin on them, watching him.
His chest felt too tight and his body was on fire for her. The touches and this closeness were making it almost impossible to think of anything other than pulling her into his arms. No one would disturb them and making love on the large window seat appealed to him.
“Scoot up. I’ll sit behind you,” he said.
She nodded and moved forward and after a moment he was seated behind her. His legs cradling either side of her body, her back pressed against his chest, her buttocks right against his cock. He put his arms around her and opened the homemade book.
“‘The Adventures of Blue and Brownstarted on a cold, wet Wednesday when the cook made blueberry pie.’”
He read the story to her of two boys scheming to steal a pie from the kitchen and their misfortune as they got closer and closer and were always foiled by someone or something. They couldn’t take a direct route to the kitchens since it went past their father’s study and he was working. It ended with them being called down to dinner and their mother giving them both a slice of pie.