my arm?
* * *
The GPS led Miles inexorably toward the sturdy-looking building on the hill, its bricks a warm red in the late afternoon sunlight. A wall of sparkling windows offered the Battlefield Library a stunning view of the nearby mountains. Installing those windows had probably taken a crapload of time.
Appropriately enough, the library abutted a grassy Civil War battlefield on one side. On the other, shrieking children were running and climbing all over an expansive playground.
That playground was pure chaos, but the library itself looked so…tidy. Neat and orderly, like Mary in the lone picture he had of her. He, on the other hand, was about to burst through the doors like an ill-kempt, wounded Sasquatch.
Don’t think about it, he told himself. Just do it. The library closes in ten minutes, and you don’t have any time to waste. As it is, you just have to hope that Mary didn’t leave early for her date.
He doubted it, though. Over the course of three months and countless messages, he’d grown to understand her. Most nights, she stayed late at the library to research different topics for her patrons or help Angie prepare the building for the next day’s programs. She didn’t skip out on even a minute of work for anything less than an emergency.
He knew—he knew—Mary was still there.
Vague nausea tightened his belly as he locked his car and moved toward the library’s entrance. A quick scan of the building from outside the glass doors didn’t reveal anyone at the circulation desk. From Mary’s e-mails about her daily routine, he figured she and Angie were probably reminding any remaining patrons of the closing time and battening down the hatches for the night.
A bell tinkled when he walked inside the library, and he jumped a bit. So much for a quiet, discreet entrance.
A blond woman called out a greeting from the workroom behind the desk, her back turned to him. “Hello! We’re closing in about ten minutes, but you’re welcome to stay until then. And if you need any help, let us know.”
Angie, unless he was mistaken. Mary’s boss and friend.
Grateful for a few last moments of anonymity, he called back, “Thank you.”
He scanned the library, desperate to see Mary but so terrified by the prospect that his knees were shaking.
He couldn’t find her anywhere.
Eye-catching posters for upcoming events covered the walls, and a small children’s area to the left boasted kid-sized bookshelves and lots of big, fluffy stuffed animals. For some reason, Mary had mentioned avoiding those creatures at all costs, but she’d refused to elaborate as to why. Now, maybe he’d have the chance to ask her in person. God help him.
Near the wall of windows, a massive stone fireplace held court, surrounded by comfortable-looking couches. From her e-mails, he knew the library had a few small meeting rooms too, as well as a computer area. But mostly, he just saw stacks. Rows and rows of bookshelves towering above his head, each stuffed to capacity with neatly shelved paperbacks and hardcovers.
So much to look at, all impressive. But no Mary.
Had she already left for the day? Had Angie convinced her to get an early start on the drive to her date? Goddammit, had he waited too long?
A small, curtained doorway lurked on the back wall, which seemed odd. Maybe she was in there? He strode toward the space, noticing a small sign by the doorway as he got closer. Adult Reading Room, it read. You must be 18 or older to enter. Space monitored by security cameras.
His brows rose. Whoa. What kind of library is this, anyway?
Then he heard a woman’s quiet voice. Calm and low. Sweet. It was drifting from behind the back of a study carrel tucked in a corner.
Mary.
“I had no idea they even held weddings there,” she said. “What are your plans for the ceremony?”
The man sounded pleased. “The cap’n will do the leg-shacklin’ on the fo’c’s’le. The reception be on the main deck, and we’ll serve grog and hardtack to landlubbers and buccaneers alike.”
Miles glanced around, but no one was lingering nearby to offer an explanation for the conversation in progress. As far as he knew, Nice County remained landlocked and untouched by piratical depredations upon the high seas. But hell, he’d only lived in Maryland for a few months. Maybe he’d missed something?
Her voice became even warmer. “That sounds wonderful, Clarence. And it looks like you found plenty of books about weddings. Is there anything I can do to help before we close tonight? I could keep these books set aside for you until tomorrow, if you’d rather not take such a huge stack home.”
“Ye be an angel, lassie. Me and me beautiful bride, Swashbucklin’ Sharon, want to plan our tablescapes, but we’re a-fearing we’ll empty our trunks of pirate treasure. So here I sailed, hoping yon library would have DIY wedding guides. And ye did, so thank ye kindly. Please bury these in the sand until me next visit tomorrow morning.”
“I’ll mark the spot with an X,” she promised. “And please tell Sharon I’d be happy to assist you two with any projects you find in the books. I’m not an expert crafter, so I can’t promise perfection, but I’d love to help make your wedding beautiful.”
“I’ll let her know. You’re a kind woman, Miss Mary. This old salt be grateful.” His chair scraped as he rose to his feet. Apparently, he was a tall buccaneer, because he towered over the carrel at full height.
Now that he could be seen, panic reclaimed every nerve in Miles’s body, jangling his thoughts and rushing in his ears. He moved a few feet away, backing up until he was half-hidden by another work station. With a quick adjustment, he made sure his left side faced the wall. And then he watched and waited as he tried his damnedest not to sweat.
Clarence and Mary emerged from behind the carrel. But before they could see him lurking a few feet away, Angie strode from the front of the library over to Clarence, a huge grin on her face.
She gathered the skinny man close and gave him a tight squeeze. “I hear congratulations are in order. And Grant says you’ll be holding your ceremony at Buccaneer Times, which seems the perfect spot.”
Buccaneer Times? Well, that explains the pirate-ship wedding.
“Aye. I suppose Grant also informed ye that he and Sam are two of me groomsmen.”
“He did. Also that you’re scheduling him for a puffy-shirt-and-breeches fitting. As far as I’m concerned, the tighter the better.” Angie pulled back and beamed at him. “I’m so happy for you, honey.”
Clarence’s crooked smile revealed braces. “I owe it all to ye, Angie. After perusin’ the volumes in yon smut room, I knew how to treat me pirate lady right. In the captain’s quarters, if ye know what I mean.”
For just a moment, Mary buried her face in her hands. When she dropped them again, her smile had become a little pained.
“I’ll consider that the room’s greatest legacy.” Angie tilted her head. “In fact, why don’t I set up a pirate erotica display for the month of your wedding? That way, you’ll have lots of books to bring on your honeymoon for inspiration.”
Mary’s hands rose, but she appeared to will them downward before they met her face a second time.
“Well, shiver me timbers. You’re a sailor’s delight. And if me bride finds the books”—Clarence waggled his brows—“enlightening, ye’ll be a sailor’s lady’s delight too.”
Angie’s grin widened. “I certainly hope so. I’ll start working on the bibliography this week.”
“Thank ye again, Angie. Well, I’d best be goin’.” Clarence gathered up his pirate hat and the eye patch he’d apparently removed while reading. “Time to put