He followed her down the stairs. Her hips didn’t sway as much as Lottie’s and yet they were all the more provocative because of it. She was all the more provocative. She was small of stature and yet there was a mightiness to her that filled the space as adeptly as her brother had earlier. Something about her made it impossible to ignore her, not to notice her, not to want to map out every aspect of her from the tips of her toes to the top of her head, as well as her heart and her soul and her thoughts, beliefs, and dreams. Never before had he found a woman so compelling, had he yearned to fully understand everything about her, every aspect that encompassed her and made her who she was. He’d like very much to have her arms around him, to have her pressed up against the length of him, to have his hands skimming over the silkiness of her cheek.

The shop was quiet, in a comforting sort of way. Somewhere a clock was ticking. He stood at the door, waiting to depart, while light from a distant streetlamp spilled through the window to flow over her, creating a mesmerizing array of light and dark shadows, deep curves, enticing lines. She was temptation itself, and he had the unconscionable image of her suddenly reaching up, loosening the three buttons that followed the line from her throat, and slowly trailing a finger along the narrow length of exposed skin.

“May I show you something?”

Please do. Even one loosened button—

He gave his mind a mental shake. His thoughts were traipsing toward the gutter, and she deserved much better than that. “What did you have in mind?”

“Over here. I’ve placed it against the far wall so the sun can’t reach it.”

He followed her across the room to where a large clock stood. Beside it was a glass case perched on a wooden pedestal. Beneath the glass, open and spread beautifully like a butterfly’s wings, was the book he’d sent to her.

“It contains the original versions of Shakespeare’s plays,” she whispered reverently. Gingerly she touched her fingers to the edge of the case, and he imagined the prince approaching Sleeping Beauty with the same caution. “It was printed more than two hundred years ago. After all these years there can’t be that many copies left. Do you have any idea what a rare find this is?”

He’d known she’d appreciate it, far more than any of his ancestors had, far more than any future generations would. “How did you come to have it?”

With her brow deeply furrowed, she looked up at him. “That’s just it. I don’t really know. An elderly gentleman brought it in and left it with no explanation.”

Jenkins. He should have known the man wouldn’t leave the chore to anyone else.