Low and soft, he thought. A seductive voice. Naturally so, he suspected. She did not seem intent on seducing at the moment. She was clearly agitated. She was still wrestling with her shawl.

He walked closer to her. "It is twisted at the back," he said. "I fear you are fighting a losing battle. Allow me."

And he took the shawl from her suddenly nerveless fingers and straightened out its folds. He stood directly in front of her, his arms reaching over her shoulders, and finally set the shawl down on them. He had not touched her at all. He looked down into her eyes as he held the ends of the shawl for her to take from his hands. Blue. Her eyes were blue, a darker shade than his own.

She seemed to realize suddenly that he intended her to take the shawl from him. She grasped it clumsily, brushing her hands against his own as she did so. She took a step back so that she almost touched the bookshelves.

"I came to choose a book," she said. "I did not have a chance earlier today. I have been busy. If you will excuse me, my lord, I will not disturb you any longer."

"But you still do not have a book," he said. She was no longer looking at him. Her eyes were resting on the top button of his shirt-at least, the top button that was done up. The top two were open.

"I shall choose one tomorrow," she said. "It is too late to read tonight anyway."

"I could not agree with you more," he said. "Un-fortunately, when one is unable to sleep, reading seems the best way to induce slumber. If one is alone, that is. Of course, if one has company of suitable gender, there is another, more pleasant way of doing it."

She looked up at him a full second before comprehension brought the color flooding back into her cheeks. He reached out and took a lock of her hair between his thumb and forefinger. She bit her lip.

"It seems we have a choice, Miss Moore," he said. "And I can tell without even having a closer look that Barrie has no book of any interest on his shelves."