Page 15 of The Witching Moon Manor (The Spellbound Sisters #2)

“I’ve brought you a gift,” Jennings said when he saw the confused expression flit across Beatrix’s face. “It arrived at the office this morning, and I knew you’d be eager to see it.”

Curious now, Beatrix pulled the object out and looked down to find the outline of a book covered in brown paper with the address for Donohoe & Company scribbled across the front.

“Open it,” Jennings said, clearly eager to watch Beatrix’s reaction.

Slowly, she pulled back the paper, exposing the bright green of the cover design, so cheerful that it almost made Beatrix believe the clouds had briefly parted to let in a single glimpse of summer.

Then her eyes wandered to the gold title printed above the embossed flowers, and the sight gave her such a shock that she nearly dropped the book onto the sludge of the sidewalk.

“But this isn’t meant to be out yet!” Beatrix exclaimed as she ran her fingers along the spine.

During her tour, Beatrix had the fortune of hearing about a new book written by another author who was taking England by storm.

She’d been crestfallen when she learned that the story wouldn’t be available in America for some months yet, impatient to slip into a tale that she was sure would keep her up well into the evening hours.

But here it was now, resting between her very own hands!

“How did you get a copy of this?” Beatrix asked in amazement as she flipped open the cover and let her eyes take in the watercolor illustration that awaited her there.

It depicted a garden, so bursting with hydrangeas and summer flowers that Beatrix almost forgot that her own breath took the shape of clouds whenever she exhaled.

“I may have pulled a few strings with our London branch,” Jennings said, clearly delighted. “I hope you like it.”

“Like it?” Beatrix echoed in disbelief. “I’m not going to be able to stop myself from reading it cover to cover in a single sitting.”

As soon as the words left her lips, though, Beatrix thought of the empty notebook that she’d abandoned in the study, and her excitement shifted, slipping beneath the worries that had whispered in her ear as she tried to write.

Instantly, her shoulders slumped forward, and her gaze darted away from the book and toward those invisible troubles that awaited her.

“Is everything all right?” Jennings asked, seeming to notice that Beatrix was slipping into herself.

He lifted his hand, and for an instant, Beatrix thought she was about to feel his warm palm against her chilled cheek. To her surprise, she felt disappointed when it landed lightly on her upper arm instead.

“This is a wonderful gift,” Beatrix said in a rush, hoping to assure him that she wasn’t being unappreciative. “It’s only that I’m so busy with the next novel. I don’t know that I’ll have time to start it.”

“Don’t tell me you’ve refused yourself the pleasure of reading?” Jennings asked, clearly dumbfounded that someone who loved the written word as much as Beatrix would have taken such extreme measures.

“I’m afraid of getting distracted,” Beatrix replied, trying to be as honest as she could without giving any hint that something serious was amiss. “Not when there seems to be so much to do and in such a short amount of time.”

Jennings paused for a moment, and in that brief beat of silence, Beatrix worried that he might ask to see what she’d written so far to ensure that everything was on the right path.

That he’d realize she hadn’t strung together a single sentence and the expression of delight that always flashed across his features when he saw her would twist into cold disapproval.

But to her great relief, that was not what Jennings wanted to know.

“When was the last time you read anything that you didn’t write yourself?” he asked, taking a step closer.

“I’m not sure,” Beatrix answered, genuinely at a loss for what to say.

Dozens of books were stacked beside the settee in the family parlor, but Beatrix hadn’t packed a single one to bring with her on the tour. Had it really been that long since she’d turned a cover with the intention of reading past the first paragraph?

“How can you expect to write if you’ve forgotten what it’s like to experience the simple magic of reading a new story?” Jennings asked with a grin as he wrapped his fingers around the corners of the book, his hands so close to Beatrix’s that she could feel their warmth, and pushed it toward her.

“I’m not sure it’s a good idea,” Beatrix murmured as her thoughts drifted away from the cover beneath her touch and toward the empty notebook once more.

“Reading is always a good idea,” Jennings said as he leaned in just a bit closer to wipe away the ink that Beatrix had smudged across her temple.

He was near enough now that she could smell coffee and freshly cut paper. The scent was so familiar that Beatrix nearly stepped forward, to do what, she wasn’t entirely certain.

But before she could lift her boot from the pavement, the sound of raised voices filled the street, drawing Beatrix’s attention away from Jennings and toward the shop.

Through the foggy glass of the windows, Beatrix could see a vibrant flash of auburn curls darting from one end of the front parlor to the next, and she realized that it wouldn’t be long before they were interrupted.

“I must say goodbye,” Beatrix sighed, casting an apologetic glance in Jennings’ direction as she took a step back. “I think my sisters need me in the shop.”

“Of course,” Jennings said in understanding, though Beatrix caught the barest whisper of disappointment in his voice, so soft that she wondered if she’d been mistaken.

“But please promise me that you’ll read the book.

I want to see why critics have been making such a fuss, but I won’t turn a single page until you’ve finished the entire thing.

Then I’ll have someone to talk with about it. ”

Beatrix was about to say that she couldn’t make such a promise with the deadline looming before her. But then she glanced upward at Jennings’ crooked smile, and her reply melted away as quickly as the snow on her boots would when she stepped back into the shop.

“I promise,” Beatrix said instead, a grin tugging at the corners of her lips.

“I’m very pleased to hear that,” Jennings replied as he began to step away, still facing Beatrix as he started to move down the street. “I’ll come to call again soon to be sure that you’re holding your end of our bargain.”

“I look forward to it,” Beatrix said, pulling the book closer to her chest as she watched Jennings give her a final nod of the head and turn around the corner.

When he finally disappeared from sight, Beatrix discovered that she’d been holding on to the same breath since the moment Jennings had started to walk away.

Before she could ponder what that meant, though, the sound of the front door being thrown open caused her to jump.

“There you are,” Violet declared, her wild eyes flitting up and down the street when she realized that her sister was alone.

“We’ve just said goodbye,” Beatrix said in a rush. “I’m afraid you’ve missed him.”

Violet’s brows pinched together in frustration, but when her gaze settled back on Beatrix, surprise flashed across her face, quickly followed by a look of smug satisfaction.

“What?” Beatrix asked, unnerved that Violet suddenly appeared so pleased

“I’ve already learned all I need to know,” Violet said with a laugh as she turned to step back inside the Crescent Moon.

Beatrix was about to ask her sister what she could possibly mean, but as she reached out to grab Violet’s sleeve, she instantly stopped.

Jennings’ coat was still hanging about her shoulders, so warm and familiar that Beatrix hadn’t even remembered it didn’t belong to her.