possibilities.
But she saw no sign of him. Even the blanket Mrs. Prescott sometimes wore over her legs, the same she had seen him using, was gone.
How odd. She’d kept a close and attentive eye on that door. Perhaps she had blinked, and he’d already left. He must have moved fast. Or had he used magic?
Julia narrowed her eyes. Leave it to Basil to use a spell to transport him to his room. What a wasteful use of spell power.
At any rate, he was gone. Julia could now safely get the book from the desk and take it to her room where no one would see her reading. Searching. She needed one spell, after all. Not the entire book.
She moved with quiet steps toward the desk, staring at the book.
It was opened.
She gasped. She was certain she’d closed it. She looked around the room, peering into the dark corners, waiting for Basil to jump out with accusations.
She should have never let the book remain. But, it was too conspicuous to take the book while he watched. Surely, he’d ask what she was reading. He’d recognize it. And how could she lie? Even as children, he’d seen through her lies.
Julia hurried to the desk, grabbed the book and closed the cover, glancing around again to see if anyone watched her.
No one.
Lifting the book and clasping it in her arms, she took a step and felt something against her foot. Peering down, she saw a boot.
She froze. She had difficulty comprehending what she saw.
A boot? Who left a boot on the library floor?
Leaning forward to peer behind the desk, she saw the boot attached to a leg. A leg she recognized.
“Basil!”
She dropped the book back on the desk, ignoring the loud thud that echoed through the room. Falling to her knees beside the inert body of Basil Merriweather, she feared he was dead. He hardly seemed to be breathing until she touched the skin of his cheek.
Julia snatched her hand away from him. Like touching fire.
He was feverish.
“Basil?” Julia tried to wake him by brushing a few strands of the cropped hair at the top of his head. The golden strands were soft and silky, just as she remembered. Her fingers drifted onto his cheek. The tiny hairs of a day-old beard prickled against her skin.
She patted his cheek, tenderly, trying to rouse him. When that failed to work, she struck a little harder.
Still nothing.
Julia leaned back on her haunches, clasping her arms around her knees and looked around the room.
What should she do?
Worrying her bottom lip, she considered calling the servants to assist. Surely a few of them could carry him up to his room. A quick glance at the large body lying on the floor made her adjust her estimations. A few might not work. He was finely muscled. And tall. They might need to wake the neighbors to ask to loan their servants, too.
Such nonsense! Julia shook her head from her musings. Seriously, her gaze should not keep wandering over his body in delicious appreciation. The poor man was ill, yet she ogled him as if she’d never seen a slumbering man.
She cocked her head to the side.
Well, she never had seen a slumbering man. Other than her father, but that wasn’t like this.
Basil was most definitely not like her father.
Her gaze once again swept over him, taking in his handsome features and traveling down his torso. Did he have difficulty breathing? Perhaps the cravat tied round his neck was a bit too tight. She loosened it a bit, opened a button or two of his shirt, exposing his chest. Yes, he just needed more air. Maybe a few more buttons should be loosened?
Heat flooded her cheeks. What was she thinking? He breathed through his nostrils not his chest. As much as she desired to see his chest, now was not the time to give in to such curiosities.
She forced her gaze away from Basil and tried to focus on the situation.
He was ill.
That was plain to see.
He must have known he was ill and had not mentioned it to anyone. That was why he did not wish for her to say anything about his weakness earlier. He did not wish his
But she saw no sign of him. Even the blanket Mrs. Prescott sometimes wore over her legs, the same she had seen him using, was gone.
How odd. She’d kept a close and attentive eye on that door. Perhaps she had blinked, and he’d already left. He must have moved fast. Or had he used magic?
Julia narrowed her eyes. Leave it to Basil to use a spell to transport him to his room. What a wasteful use of spell power.
At any rate, he was gone. Julia could now safely get the book from the desk and take it to her room where no one would see her reading. Searching. She needed one spell, after all. Not the entire book.
She moved with quiet steps toward the desk, staring at the book.
It was opened.
She gasped. She was certain she’d closed it. She looked around the room, peering into the dark corners, waiting for Basil to jump out with accusations.
She should have never let the book remain. But, it was too conspicuous to take the book while he watched. Surely, he’d ask what she was reading. He’d recognize it. And how could she lie? Even as children, he’d seen through her lies.
Julia hurried to the desk, grabbed the book and closed the cover, glancing around again to see if anyone watched her.
No one.
Lifting the book and clasping it in her arms, she took a step and felt something against her foot. Peering down, she saw a boot.
She froze. She had difficulty comprehending what she saw.
A boot? Who left a boot on the library floor?
Leaning forward to peer behind the desk, she saw the boot attached to a leg. A leg she recognized.
“Basil!”
She dropped the book back on the desk, ignoring the loud thud that echoed through the room. Falling to her knees beside the inert body of Basil Merriweather, she feared he was dead. He hardly seemed to be breathing until she touched the skin of his cheek.
Julia snatched her hand away from him. Like touching fire.
He was feverish.
“Basil?” Julia tried to wake him by brushing a few strands of the cropped hair at the top of his head. The golden strands were soft and silky, just as she remembered. Her fingers drifted onto his cheek. The tiny hairs of a day-old beard prickled against her skin.
She patted his cheek, tenderly, trying to rouse him. When that failed to work, she struck a little harder.
Still nothing.
Julia leaned back on her haunches, clasping her arms around her knees and looked around the room.
What should she do?
Worrying her bottom lip, she considered calling the servants to assist. Surely a few of them could carry him up to his room. A quick glance at the large body lying on the floor made her adjust her estimations. A few might not work. He was finely muscled. And tall. They might need to wake the neighbors to ask to loan their servants, too.
Such nonsense! Julia shook her head from her musings. Seriously, her gaze should not keep wandering over his body in delicious appreciation. The poor man was ill, yet she ogled him as if she’d never seen a slumbering man.
She cocked her head to the side.
Well, she never had seen a slumbering man. Other than her father, but that wasn’t like this.
Basil was most definitely not like her father.
Her gaze once again swept over him, taking in his handsome features and traveling down his torso. Did he have difficulty breathing? Perhaps the cravat tied round his neck was a bit too tight. She loosened it a bit, opened a button or two of his shirt, exposing his chest. Yes, he just needed more air. Maybe a few more buttons should be loosened?
Heat flooded her cheeks. What was she thinking? He breathed through his nostrils not his chest. As much as she desired to see his chest, now was not the time to give in to such curiosities.
She forced her gaze away from Basil and tried to focus on the situation.
He was ill.
That was plain to see.
He must have known he was ill and had not mentioned it to anyone. That was why he did not wish for her to say anything about his weakness earlier. He did not wish his
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