The Dragon's Lost Letters
Zoe Chant
Published by Zoe Chant, 2021
This is a work of fiction. Similarities to persons, places, or events are entirely coincidental.
THE DRAGON'S LOST LETTERS
First Edition.
Copyright © 2021 by Zoe Chant
Written by Zoe Chant
CHAPTER ONE
∞∞∞
The University of Illinois-Everly Library and Archives buzzed with tension, and when Norah spotted the tall and unfamiliar man in the dark suit, alarm bells went off in her head. She hurried forward, still pushing her reshelving cart, a scowl on her round face.
“Hey! Hey you!
Okay, he's taller than me, but I'm low to the ground with an impressive center of gravity. I bet this cart and I could keep him pinned until campus security gets here.
The man jumped guiltily from where he had been examining the rack of of eighteenth century religious pamphlets. He was definitely no one she had seen before, and her corner of the archives were unpopular enough that browsers were unlikely. He took a step back as if he might make a break for it, and Norah narrowed her eyes.
“Hey! No, you're not going anywhere!”
Before she had quite figured out if this was a good idea or not, Norah got herself and her cart parked between the man and the only door out into the hallway, and then …
Then she met his eyes.
Oh … oh what the heck …
Norah knew what she liked in men. She liked tall. She liked dark. She would have said that a friendly smile and a good laugh went a long way. This man, with rather stern face and a grim mouth, didn't look as if he laughed very often, but there was something in his black eyes that struck her straight to the heart. They made her think of starless nights high up towards the arctic circle and of blackstrap molasses. She would have said that she knew him right away if she wasn't equally certain she had never met him before.
Hello stranger, she thought helplessly. Where have you been? What took you so long?
For an instant, just for an instant, Norah thought that he recognized her as well. His lips parted and a thin blush of color rose up on his sharp cheekbones. It made him look more human, less like some intruder come to swipe the rare Audubon books. It took him from sternly handsome to something that was just short of beautiful.
Before Norah could do something truly silly, like reach out to touch him, however, he straightened, resuming his cool and faintly irritated look.
“You,” he said, and she glared. She would deal with whatever in the world that moment of recognition had been later. She wasn't going to let a thief go just because he had amazing cheekbones.
“Yes, me,” she said, as direly as a woman in a dress covered with pink hearts could manage.
“You.”
“Um. Yes?”
He shook his head as if shaking off an irritating fly. Now there was something off about his gaze, and Norah blinked.
“You work here, in this department?” he asked, gesturing around at the small room packed with papers. It was the Eighteenth Century English Ephemera Collection, otherwise known as the ECEE, and Norah's pride.
“This is mine, yes,” she said, lifting her chin up. “And now why don't you show me what you've got in your briefcase?”
The briefcase by his side was sleek leather, and he cordially inclined his head as he propped it up on top of her cart, spinning it towards her.
“You get to the point quickly. I like that,” he said.
“You're not going to like it if – oh my God!”
She couldn't stop herself from practically shrieking with surprise at the neatly-arranged stacks of cash in nestled in the briefcase. Her shocked glance took in the hundred-dollar bills on top, and even if the rest were just ones, that was still at least twelve hundred dollars in front of her.
“Close that!” she hissed, and nonplussed, the man did as he was told.
“That's seventy-five thousand,” he said. “I assumed that would be more than enough to buy this collection from you.”
He tilted his head to one side.
“What did you think it was going to be?”
“A cardboard box lined in tin foil!”
Now it was his turn to look at her as if she was mad.
“Why?”
“Because we just had a team meeting about someone stealing valuable books from the library, and that's how the thief is getting things past the sensors!”
The man with the briefcase stacked with cash gave her an offended look.
“I am no thief,” he said. “I don't need to steal books.”
“Obviously not,” she said, shaking her head. “But look, this collection isn't for sale. You can't just come in and buy an archive.”
He looked around at the ancient blinds on the window, the slightly cracked glass set in the door, and the battered steel desk that was Norah's center of operations.
“Are you sure? It seems as if seventy-five thousand dollars could patch some holes around here.”
Now that the adrenaline was draining away, Norah's heart returned to its regular slow, steady beat. She drew herself up to her full height. It barely brought her up to the man's shoulder, but she would take what she could get.
“Sir, we are an educational institution. Our resources are not for sale.”
The man frowned, opening his mouth to respond, but then the door behind them burst open, slamming against the wall with a loud bang. Norah jumped a foot while trying to turn at the same time, and the result was that she bumped backwards into the man who wasn't a book thief.
She started to tip over, damn her balance anyway, but then one strong arm wrapped around her waist, keeping her stable by bringing her back against a broad chest.
Yes, yes, yes, something inside her sang. At last!
It hadn't been that long since her last boyfriend, but her body and something deep within her disagreed. She started to pull away, and just for a moment, she thought the very handsome man wouldn't let her.
Wow, was she more than okay with that.
“Norah,
