“Wonderful!” Oliver said and went off to take his nap.

For a long moment Amala just stared at Henry and he stared back in a way they never would have dared while there were other people in the room. Realizing the doors were open and there was risk of being overheard, she quickly said, “I think you’ll like the library. It’s one of my favorite rooms in the house.”

“I’m sure I will,” he said and followed her out of the drawing room, down the stairs, through two long hallways, and into the room that Amala considered the greatest representation of wealth in this or any other home—simply because it was filled from floor to ceiling with books.

“Oh, it’s remarkable!” Henry declared as he entered and she closed the door behind them. She watched him as he took in the massive shelves of books and the many long windows that emitted the overcast light of a rainy day over the furnishings that were fine but simple and designed for comfort in a room that was meant for long bouts of reading.

Amala was about to comment on what she particularly liked about the room when Henry turned to look at her, all pretense gone from his expression. In the time it took her to exhale, he closed the distance between them, pushed his arm around her waist and his other hand into her hair. He looked into her eyes for only a moment before he kissed her.

“Do you realize,” he asked softly, “the number of hours I have been in the same room with you, wanting to do that?”

“Yes, I’m well aware,” she replied and urged him to kiss her again.

Recognizing the need to behave rationally and keep their affection in check, Amala eased away from him and drew his attention to her reasons for loving the library—most specifically, all of the books.

“I loved to read even as a child in India,” she said, running her fingers over the spines of a long row of novels. “After I came here, reading was something familiar and safe. Of course, Kat and I had our lessons with tutors, and our play time, and we usually got along fairly well. But I couldn’t go a day without spending time with a good book. Reading is one of the few things that Kat and I firmly agree on. We would often lounge about here for hours, each taking one of the couches, throwing off our shoes, and just getting lost in another world.”

“What a lovely image that brings to mind,” Henry said, sitting on one of those couches while Amala continued to affectionately touch the books.

“Do you like to read, Henry?” she asked, still more focused on the books than on him.