A sudden nudge from behind nearly knocked the book from her grasp.

“I beg your pardon.” The deep voice was edged with a foreign accent.

Arianna turned, about to acknowledge the apology with a polite smile, when the man gave her another little shove.

“I beg your pardon, but that book is mine,” he growled. “Hand it over at once.”

Sliding back a step, she instinctively threw up a forearm to parry his grab. “I’m afraid you are mistaken, sir. It was lying on the display table, free for anyone to choose.”

“I assure you, there is no mistake,” he replied. “I must have it.”

Turn over her treasure to a lout who thought to frighten her with physical force? Her pulse kicked up a notch, its hot surge thrumming angrily in her ears.

“Sorry, but I saw it first.”

Her husband had jestingly warned her that serious book collectors were an odd, obsessive lot, and this one in particular sounded slightly deranged. Or demented. But, be that as it may, Arianna was not about to be intimidated by his bullying tactics.

“You will have to look around for something else, for I intend to purchase it,” she added, and not just for spite. She had already decided that the engravings were the perfect present for her husband.

“You can’t!” he exclaimed in a taut whisper.

Oh, but I can.

Closing the covers, Arianna hugged the book to her chest.

As the man edged closer, a blade of light cut across his pale face. Sweat was beading his forehead, and several drops hung on his russet lashes. “I tell you, that book is meant for me.”

“Then you should have asked the clerk to put it aside.” She gestured at the other volumes arrayed on the square of dark velvet. “Come, there is no need to squabble like savages. You have plenty of other lovely choices.”

He snarled an obscenity.

“Be advised, sir, I know plenty of worse words than that,” responded Arianna with a grim smile, and she added a very unladylike curse to prove it.