Page 76 of Book People

‘It doesn’t worry me. I don’t care about gossip. But I know you don’t like it.’

‘I don’t? Who told you that?’

I bite my lip, not wanting to give Aisling and what she told me about him away. ‘No one. I just assumed you don’t because you keep yourself so separate from everyone.’

He sighs. ‘Living in a village has its own . . . peculiarities. Your life isn’t your own, since everyone here knows all about it and has an opinion on it. And they’re not shy about telling you.’

‘Hey, I kind of guessed that. I’ve watched enough Hallmark movies to know.’

He smiles, once again causing my heart to leap about like a mad thing. ‘I hate to disappoint you, but life in a small village is not like a Hallmark movie.’

‘No. Because if it was, there would be a tall, dark, brooding stranger . . . oh . . . wait.’

He laughs and I feel like I’ve won the National Lottery, the sound of it raising delicious goosebumps over my skin. My God, it’s sexy. I need to call theUSPresident, tell him that one of hisweapons of mass destruction is in an English village, taking the form of an illegally hot bookseller.

‘I don’t like pity,’ Sebastian says after a moment. ‘After Mum died, that’s all I got. Pitying looks and lots of “poor boy” comments. Lots of “lucky you still have your father”. It was too much, especially when I didn’t actually end up having my father.’

I go very still. This is private and he’s a very private man, yet he’s giving me something, the way I gave him some of me. A little piece of himself, of his history. It’s precious and important, and I don’t want to say the wrong thing.

‘Why not?’ I ask carefully. ‘What happened to him?’

‘He preferred the bottle to me. Just like my grandfather preferred the track. I used to find empty whisky bottles hidden amongst the books on the bookshelves.’

My heart stops dancing and stands there holding itself, aching for a little boy who lost his mother far too soon and his father along with her. ‘I’m so sorry, Sebastian,’ I say. ‘And this isn’t pity, just so you know. It’s sympathy.’

He searches my face for a long moment and I can’t tell what he’s thinking. ‘The problem with a village is that there were plenty of people who had opinions, and yet no one lifted a finger to help. They all viewed it as none of their business.’ He pauses. ‘By the time I was twelve years old, Dad was drunk every night. I had to make my own meals, do my own washing. Get myself to school . . .’ He stops. ‘I’m not complaining. It was what it was. But it’s very much a case of your business is our business until it isn’t.’

Poor kid. He basically brought himself up. He must have felt so alone.

‘Mum was on her own,’ I say, wanting to share my experience, to let him know that I understand. ‘It was just me and her. She had to work a lot to keep the roof over our heads and I was lefton my own much of the time. I had to learn to take care of myself because she wasn’t around to do it.’

For a moment our gazes lock and we stare at each other, a moment of complete understanding flowing between us.

‘The bookshop?’ I ask, knowing already the answer to the question, because he told me once before. That’s where he went to escape. To find companionship. To find the connections he wanted.

His mouth curls. ‘The library?’

I smile back.

We know, the two of us. We know.

It was books. Books saved us.

He bends his head and his mouth is on mine, and then he moves. And I’m not thinking about books any more.

Only him.

Chapter Twenty

Who are you protecting? Him? Why? When he doesn’t protect you?

H

SEBASTIAN

I shut the bookshop door behind me, then cross the road to Portable Magic. Kate has changed the front window and it’s full of fantasy books, with plenty of toy dragons posed appealingly and a couple of teddy bears that someone has fashioned armour and swords for. A big sign says: ‘If you enjoyedThe Lord of the Rings, you’ll love these fabulous, fantastic fantasy reads!’

It’s a great window. It compliments myLord of the Ringsone. I don’t even mind the terrible alliteration or the exclamation mark.

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