“In their bed.
In their room.
They were both reading by flickering candlelight. The golden glow from the berry-scented candles creating an ambience of peace and quiet that should have knocked him out by now. Instead, he remained awake and alert.
He watched Rachel turn a page, her face a mask of concentration. Her hair was up in a messy ponytail, a book in her lap and a pillow tucked behind her back. Christian’s comments about the nuclear power plants had scared her. She was reading about radiation poisoning.
Within a week after they’d met, she’d demanded he stop at every bookstore, every library they’d encountered. Now there were stacks of books in every room of the farmhouse.
“I’m going create a home library here to rival the one Thomas Jefferson had at Monticello,” she’d told him a few days ago. “That way we’ll have all the information we need right at our fingertips.
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