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his collection exceeds mine. That is indeed discouraging. However, nothing inspires a man to achievement like another man’s success.”
    “I think perhaps we should close the topic of libraries.”
    He chuckled.
    It had been a long time since Panna had flirted with a man. The flutter in her chest and the charge of connection was like sunshine and fresh air to someone emerging from a lingering illness. It left her feeling both exhilarated and a little light-headed.
    She had come to an odd, high window seat. Unlike the other window seats, which were of normal size and depth, this one jutted out an extra two feet from the side of the building and stood a good twelve inches taller, which made Panna assume it offered the best view. However, she found it nearly impossible to get into it, given her gown and the glass in her hand—that is, until she spotted a swing-out step, about a foot off the floor, built into the wall.
    She opened the step.
    “Oh, dear.” Bridgewater cleared his throat.
    “What?” She hopped on the wood. The step was quite steady.
    “I—well, never mind.” He shook his head.
    “I’ve never seen anything like this.”
    “No, I, er, wouldn’t think so.”
    Once she sat down, she noticed another odd feature of the seat. It angled slightly downward toward the half circle of windows in which it was located, which made sitting upright a sort of isometric exercise. In addition, about a foot before the seat reached the windows, the angle of the incline became even more acute.
    “This is very strange,” she said.
    His cheeks reddened. “It belonged to the man who built this place.”
    “Not you?”
    “Oh, no. This castle was built three hundred years ago and has changed hands a number of times in the never-ending tumult of the borderlands. Most of it was destroyed in a fire forty or so years ago—the same year as the plague. Only this wing remains.”
    “I see. And the seat?”
    He shifted uncomfortably. “Tis referred to as the surveying seat.”
    She took in the sweeping view of the ramparts, the river, the buildings in the town, and the seemingly endless hills beyond. “I can see that. But the incline? And the odd height?”
    “The story is told that the lord of the castle, apparently a roguish sort, designed it to give himself a standing view of all of his holdings—holdings that evidently were meant to include his lady . . . or, at least, whoever his lady was at the moment he decided to, er, take his survey.”
    “Oh,” she said. “Oh.”
    The seat would accommodate a man standing, one foot on the swing-out step, and a woman, lying on her back, with her body angled downward and her head angled even more.
    “Good God!” Panna exclaimed. “The view of his holdings would be directly between her—”
    “Aye.”
    Talk about seeing the world through rose-colored nipples. She suddenly wondered if Bridgewater had ever used it for such a purpose, though the extent of his discomfort on the topic suggested either he hadn’t or he didn’t care to have someone thinking he had.
    She didn’t know how to respond.
    “As you said,” he murmured, “a room with a view.”
    “Indeed.”
    Quite speechless and blushing as well, Panna scrabbled to remember the topic that had preceded the discovery of this amazing seat. The depth and breadth of his library’s circulation had been almost as fraught with pitfalls. Determined to find a safer topic, she said, “There is one thing quite singular about your library, however.”
    “Oh?” He sat up, as relieved as she was at the change of subject.
    “Yes, you have two stories of shelves, and no ladder to reach the upper story.”
    His face broke in a wide grin. “Do you know that you are the first person to notice? The army has been here three months and not a single officer has said a word.”
    She hopped off the seat and continued walking around the room, scanning titles as she went. Milton, Hobbes, Fletcher, Newton—even a Bible grand enough to make