Gift of Fire

line. That mouth should have promised a total lack of emotion, but for some reason Mercy got just the opposite impression. She saw the potential for emotion there, saw too that it was under a rigid self-control. The problem was she couldn’t begin to tell if it was passion or violence that lurked beneath the surface of his coolly set mouth.
    Any emotion this man chose to focus on a woman would be overwhelming, Mercy thought. She shook off the paralyzing awareness.
    “I’m Mercy Pennington. You startled me. I didn’t hear you come in.” She took a firm grip on her shaken nerves. “The bell over the door must be broken.”
    The man glanced back toward the door. “It’s not broken.”
    “But it always rings when the door opens.”
    He shrugged. “It didn’t this time.” He dismissed the matter completely. The mystery of the non-ringing bell was obviously not a mystery to him. “If you’re Mercy Pennington, then you have a book for sale. I would like to examine it, and if it’s the one I want I’ll meet your price, whatever you’re asking.”
    “A book?” Her mind went blank. Something about this man was totally disorienting. He was asking her about a book, but she had the oddest sensation they should be talking about far more personal, more impor ­ tant matters. Α flickering feeling of communication went through her. It was as if she already knew him on some level, though she didn’t even know his name. “I’ve got hundreds of books for sale.”
    “Burleigh’s Valley of Secret Jewels. I’ve come a long way for it.”
    He made it sound as though he’d come from the outer reaches of Hades. “Oh, that book.” Relieved that this whole thing was going to be over very quickly, Mercy rushed on with the news. “I’m sorry, I’ve already sold it.” She smiled brightly. “It’s unfortunate that you had to drive out of your way for nothing.”
    His hazel eyes narrowed. “When did you sell it?”
    “A couple of days ago. Α man in Colorado phoned and said he’d take it sight unseen.”
    “Has he picked it up yet?”
    “Well, no, as a matter of fact, but—”
    “I’ll top his offer.”
    Mercy was nonplussed. “I couldn’t sell it out from under him. That would be unethical. He’s already paid me for Valley and I’ve promised to deliver it to him.”
    “You would find it…unethical to sell to a higher bidder?”
    “That’s right,” Mercy said quickly, not liking the new, even more intense interest he was displaying. She sought for a way to break the strange spell that seemed to be engulfing her. “Now , if you’ll excuse me, I have a few more things to do before I close this evening. It’s already after five.” She deliberately moved down the aisle to ­ ward him, hoping he would take the hint and get out of her way and leave the shop. The fact that she was alone with him was making her nervous.
    This was not the sort of man one wanted to en ­ counter in a dark bookshop aisle or a dark alley, Mercy decided firmly. But she had no sooner finished phrasing the silent warning to herself than her mind leaped to the image of a dark bedroom. Impatiently she brushed aside the evocative mental picture of meeting this man in such dangerous surroundings.
    He didn’t move as she moved bravely down the aisle. He stood at the end of the narrow corridor watching her. His stance was both relaxed and balanced. Some ­ how his very stillness was as alarming as anything else about him. Less than two paces away Mercy was forced to halt. Her hands tightened around a couple of books she had picked up to reshelve as she began to seriously wonder just how dangerous he was. Ignatius Cove had very little crime, but an isolated shopkeeper at the end of a working day was always a vulnerable target.
    “I said, will you please excuse me?” She put as much force as possible into the superficially polite query. Somewhere she had read one had to be confident and controlled when dealing with situations such as this. There was always the hope that one could bluff one’s way out of danger. She mustn’t lose her nerve. “You’re in my way”
    “I would like to see the book.”
    “It’s not here.”
    “Where is it?” he asked with a patience that was un ­ nerving because there was absolutely no indication of how long it would last.
    Mercy swallowed. “I’ve got it at home. I didn’t want to take a chance on anything happening to it here. It’s rather valuable.”
    He stared at her for a minute,