Free The Captain's Bluestocking Mistress by Erica Ridley Page B

acquaintances. While she was here, he and Miss Downing would adhere to what was proper. They’d be nothing less and nothing more than perfectly dull, perfectly respectable … friends.
    But guarding a young lady’s reputation required more than merely abstaining from making love to her. Especially with a woman as unconventional and unpredictable as this one.
    Even without succumbing to carnal pleasures, there was nothing maiden-appropriate with which to pass the time. He was a bachelor. This was his home. Very little within its walls was appropriate for a young lady. She shouldn’t be anywhere near him or the dishes. Zeus. What was he to do?
    He didn’t even own a backgammon set. Yet he must ensure their one hundred percent platonic friendship didn’t degenerate to her swilling whiskey and smoking cigarillos as she tossed betting markers across a velvet card table. His cottage must remain a citadel of respectability.
    Which left what? Organizing his linen closet?
    Excitement rushed through his veins. No, not his linen closet. His library . What could be safer than a room full of books?
    His chest lightened. He washed the last of the dishes and dried his hands on a towel. A library like his could take weeks to organize. He didn’t even know what was on the shelves. He’d purchased titles at whim and left them helter-skelter when he’d set off for war.
    With luck, the volumes were so dusty that they’d cause sneezing fits every time they were touched. No man was less kissable than whilst suffering a violent coughing attack.
    He proffered his arm. “Would you like to see my library?”
    Her lips curved, but she narrowed her eyes in mock suspicion. “Dare I hope for a prurient collection of shunga scrolls?”
    He took a step back. “I am delighted to say that I have no idea what that means.”
    She laughed. “Why would you be happy about that?”
    He fixed her with an imperious stare. “Whatever it is, I doubt it is something proper.”
    “Who would want a proper library?” Her eyes widened and she tilted her head. “Don’t tell me you’re one of those pretentious sorts who only purchases books with the hope of impressing callers with their size or title.”
    “I never meant to show anyone my library, so, no, I am not so lowly a creature as that. However, I haven’t laid eyes on my books in well over three years, and I couldn’t begin to tell you what I might have thought worth perusing at that time. Essays on irrigation methods? Travel journals? French poetry? I imagine there’s a few of everything upon those shelves.”
    She hesitated, clearly tempted. “I recognize this as a blatant attempt to avoid other outlets for amusement.”
    “And yet you cannot resist.” He turned her toward the door and offered his arm once more. “What if the snow should melt by noontime? You might never get another chance to discover the hidden secrets of a captain’s library.”
    She slapped her hand onto the crook of his arm in resignation. “You don’t fight fair.”
    “You don’t know the half of it,” he said quietly. He hoped she never would.
    She released his arm when they reached the library and preceded him into the room. He followed close behind. As soon as he entered, she pulled the door closed behind them.
    He arched a sardonic brow. “Was the empty cottage not private enough, madam?”
    She arched a brow right back. “Have you met my cat?”
    His gaze jerked to his shelves in horror. It was one thing for his books to be dusty… and quite another for them to be a pulpy, fur-sodden mess.
    Fortunately, all seemed to be in order. Perhaps too much in order. All the titles were upright and even, with nary a cobweb to be found.
    Curse his competent staff.
    Miss Downing began a slow examination of the room. Xavier lit a small fire with his flint and then settled onto the chaise longue to watch.
    She wasn’t just beautiful. Everything about her was bewitching and larger than life. Her huge brown eyes. Her mane