This was not the black volume she hoped for, but her heart practically stopped the instant she read the title of the slim, burgundy leather book, Property of the Marquis.
Her heart began to beat rapidly.
Her eyes strayed to the bracelets on her wrists and the platinum one that was deliberately hidden by half a dozen bangles. The inscription: Property of the Marquis, exactly as it appeared on the book she held.
A moment later, she heard the sound of the fisherman whistling. One glance out the window and she saw him walking rapidly toward the house. She came down on her ankle again, as she started back toward the chair. “Yeeeouch!” she grimaced. She hopped the rest of the way with the book in hand and shoved it into her backpack. Then, after gently propping her foot on the stool, she too
