Read Online The Unintended Bride by Kelly McClymer - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Kelly McClymer
Tags: Fiction
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sister.
She looked up at Arthur. They were trapped in this room together. Alone. In a roomful of books that illustrated what a man and a woman could do together, did they dare. She remembered much too clearly how he had looked in the library last night, haloed by the lamp light. She had been so tempted to confess her feelings. She glanced up at the small window. At least he would not present such a temptation tonight, as there were no lamps, or candles, in the attic room. Soon darkness would fall. And then what?
She fluctuated rapidly between wanting to laugh until her breath came in gasps and to cry until her tears were spent. Could anyone have devised a more perfect torture for her?
She hoped none of her feelings showed upon her face as she said numbly, "If you cannot find a way to breach the door, how long do you think we might have to wait?" She lifted the book in her hand in a wordless gesture, and then said only, "I don't think this reading matter will keep us suitably occupied."
He did not answer. He was staring down at her with an intensity that made her wonder if he might have divined her wild imaginings. But that was impossible.
"Arthur," she touched his arm, a mere brush of her glove against his forearm, though she felt the touch vibrate up her arm and through her center in an instant. "How long do you think we will have to wait here before Mr. Beasley comes back?"
He shook himself out of his trance and looked around the room at the shelves of books. He shuddered. "We cannot wait for rescue. To be found here, together, would be disaster." He renewed his assault on the door until he suddenly stopped mid-blow and bent to examine one of the hinges.
After a moment, he said, "I think this is loose; can you find something flat — wait." He pulled a page cutter from his pocket and worked at the hinge.
Within a few moments he gave a cry of triumph and a wrench of his arm. The hinge hung loose in his hand, and the door gaped open slightly.
He grinned at her, his eyes lit with triumph. He held up the page cutter. "I suppose we must now dub this Excalibur."
Hero gave a clap, as if to cheer him, though part of her wished he was less eager to escape confinement with her.
With a little more effort, Arthur had the top hinge undone as well. "Well done," she said approvingly as he pulled the door away and they hurried down the three little steps into the darkened outer room — where they were promptly stopped by the larger door.
"Devil take this fiend. Perhaps he was sent by Dickens himself to confound us," he groaned.
Hero stared at the door. Earlier, she remembered, the padlock had hung loose, but now the door was securely fastened, and apparently padlocked from the opposite side again as well, as when they pounded at it they could hear the metallic thump of the padlock for their efforts.
They both stared at the second door in dismay. There were no hinges on this side at all. And, just as solid as the smaller door, it did not give way to their blows.
Trapped again. Hero noticed that the light was quickly fading away, and she climbed back up to the small room to see, through the octagonal window, that the sky was darkening to dusk. Juliet would be home from her drive by now. Miranda would be frantic when she realized Hero was missing.
Had she told them she would be going to this bookshop? She couldn't remember if she'd been specific. The secrecy of their quest had been foremost in her mind. What detail had she given her sister? Her maid? Could she expect rescue from them, if Mr. Beasley did not hear them up here, and release them in the morning?
She sighed, looking at the walls of books. She could hear Arthur moving things around, looking for some way to open the second door. She wanted to read, to lose herself in someone else's story and forget her own predicament. But the books she had looked at — She moved toward the shelves, browsing only titles. Surely not all the books were like the two she had perused.
She looked up at Arthur. They were trapped in this room together. Alone. In a roomful of books that illustrated what a man and a woman could do together, did they dare. She remembered much too clearly how he had looked in the library last night, haloed by the lamp light. She had been so tempted to confess her feelings. She glanced up at the small window. At least he would not present such a temptation tonight, as there were no lamps, or candles, in the attic room. Soon darkness would fall. And then what?
She fluctuated rapidly between wanting to laugh until her breath came in gasps and to cry until her tears were spent. Could anyone have devised a more perfect torture for her?
She hoped none of her feelings showed upon her face as she said numbly, "If you cannot find a way to breach the door, how long do you think we might have to wait?" She lifted the book in her hand in a wordless gesture, and then said only, "I don't think this reading matter will keep us suitably occupied."
He did not answer. He was staring down at her with an intensity that made her wonder if he might have divined her wild imaginings. But that was impossible.
"Arthur," she touched his arm, a mere brush of her glove against his forearm, though she felt the touch vibrate up her arm and through her center in an instant. "How long do you think we will have to wait here before Mr. Beasley comes back?"
He shook himself out of his trance and looked around the room at the shelves of books. He shuddered. "We cannot wait for rescue. To be found here, together, would be disaster." He renewed his assault on the door until he suddenly stopped mid-blow and bent to examine one of the hinges.
After a moment, he said, "I think this is loose; can you find something flat — wait." He pulled a page cutter from his pocket and worked at the hinge.
Within a few moments he gave a cry of triumph and a wrench of his arm. The hinge hung loose in his hand, and the door gaped open slightly.
He grinned at her, his eyes lit with triumph. He held up the page cutter. "I suppose we must now dub this Excalibur."
Hero gave a clap, as if to cheer him, though part of her wished he was less eager to escape confinement with her.
With a little more effort, Arthur had the top hinge undone as well. "Well done," she said approvingly as he pulled the door away and they hurried down the three little steps into the darkened outer room — where they were promptly stopped by the larger door.
"Devil take this fiend. Perhaps he was sent by Dickens himself to confound us," he groaned.
Hero stared at the door. Earlier, she remembered, the padlock had hung loose, but now the door was securely fastened, and apparently padlocked from the opposite side again as well, as when they pounded at it they could hear the metallic thump of the padlock for their efforts.
They both stared at the second door in dismay. There were no hinges on this side at all. And, just as solid as the smaller door, it did not give way to their blows.
Trapped again. Hero noticed that the light was quickly fading away, and she climbed back up to the small room to see, through the octagonal window, that the sky was darkening to dusk. Juliet would be home from her drive by now. Miranda would be frantic when she realized Hero was missing.
Had she told them she would be going to this bookshop? She couldn't remember if she'd been specific. The secrecy of their quest had been foremost in her mind. What detail had she given her sister? Her maid? Could she expect rescue from them, if Mr. Beasley did not hear them up here, and release them in the morning?
She sighed, looking at the walls of books. She could hear Arthur moving things around, looking for some way to open the second door. She wanted to read, to lose herself in someone else's story and forget her own predicament. But the books she had looked at — She moved toward the shelves, browsing only titles. Surely not all the books were like the two she had perused.
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