Page 7 of Balance
Yet, from this position on the floor, I spotted something I’d missed earlier.
Pushed deep into the far corner under the bed, almost entirely shrouded in darkness and barely discernible, appeared to be a rectangular treasure chest.
Curiosity and the fear that further investigation might be too much an invasion of privacy, warred inside me. But my heart was beating excitedly as I crawled across the floor. There was something there, something powerful and ancient, something I couldn’t quite place. It felt familiar.
The closer I got to the box, the faster the butterflies in my stomach moved. When I reached toward the box, my fingertips lightly touching the rough, weathered surface, my pulse was soaring with anticipation.
At this point it would be remiss of me—a future investigator of mysterious things—to ignore such an obvious clue. Inside this chest was something that connected me with Miles.
I twisted my hand through one of the thick leather straps, just enough to give me leverage to pull the box toward me.
For such a heavy-looking box, it moved without much resistance. As it neared, the tingling along my spine intensified until, finally, I’d pulled it free from its hiding place and it rested on the floor by my knees.
As I twisted my hands in front of me, the conflicting emotions inside me intensified.
Opening this box wasdefinitelyan invasion of privacy, there was no explaining that one away. But at the same time, it was becoming harder to ignore the pull with every passing second.
The span of a heartbeat later, I’d made my decision.
Miles was magical, and all of that. And I had no idea what it meant exactly.
But maybe this attraction was for a reason that I’d yet to understand.
The chest wasn’t even locked, although there was a lock built into it. Deep within the confines of it, like a hidden treasure, were multiple sheepskin tomes. Packed along the side of the chest, wrapped in ink-stained brittle-looking cloths, were various glass bottles, as well as a mixture of brightly colored gemstones and boring-looking rocks.
My attention wandered over the treasure, my heart beating wildly as a sense of urgent secrecy hung over the room. Whatever the reason, I couldn’t let the others know about this.
Still, it was okay for me, right?
I glanced toward the bedroom door—it was still closed, but I wasn’t sure how much longer it’d be before someone came to get me for dinner. It was Damen’s turn to cook tonight, which meant we were probably going to have tacos again.
Which was fine and everything. Just about everyone in the world loved tacos. But the man tended to go overboard with jalapenos.
I crossed my legs, carefully grabbing the book at the top of the small pile and pulling it into my lap. The thick volume was bound in with a dark chestnut hide, and in silver lettering across the cover it read,Sinful Responseby Andreina Bellini. I’d never even heard of this book, or this author, but considering the way that Miles had packed this away so carefully, the novel must be very important to him.
This was it—my way to make a connection! If I read these, I would finally understand him.
And maybe I wouldn’t miss him so much.
My breath caught with unbridled excitement as my fingers traced over the fragile, yellowed pages. I could already tell that this would be an experience in the most refined literature.
“Please, Your Holiness, hear me out!” The slight but bonny, raven-haired maiden twirled a lock of her hair as she shuffled her feet.
The esteemed Earl Bernard Rauf Anotson Triston Wyndfuck, named after his father and his father before him, was a stern-looking man, and he would not be persuaded by a seductress’s sultry looks. He was true and just in his rule and appearance. Everything about him, from his lace-cuffed sleeves to his perfectly arched eyebrows, was always perfectly proper. Even his headpiece was set just so, and no one—not even the nursemaid who’d been with him since birth—had ever witnessed the man so much as smile.
It was no wonder the lovely peasant was shaking with fright even as she tried to use her womanly wiles against him.
But it wasn’t her trembling form or her soulful honey eyes that stilled Bernard’s hand. If it were anyone else, someone less pitiful, he’d have had them thrown out of his gathering hall already.
It was the racing of his heart as their gazes locked. The instant connection that he could tell she, too, felt.
There was no need for her to be afraid of death, because—despite his appearance and reputation for his wholesome values—Bernard had a secret.
Beneath his off-putting demeanor, the earl was a lonely man—almost ancient, at the ripe old age of thirty-five—and had never found love throughout his long years on earth.
Until today.
It had been only a moment, but he knew that he had to have her. They were destined.
