“Are you trying to kill me, woman?” Owen’s harsh growl turned into a violent cough as a massive wave of dust swept across the room straight toward him. He blinked through bleary eyes at his wife. She was tugging a thick green baize curtain away from the tall windows of the library. Morning sunlight shot through the room, hitting the tall shelves and the rows of endless books. Motes of dust danced through the beams in the wake of Milly flinging curtains back.
“I’m not trying to kill you. Don’t be so dramatic,” Milly muttered as she hauled back a large wicker rug beater and smacked the curtain. Another cloud of dust erupted around them. Milly didn’t cough. Owen stared at her. How the hell did she not cough? Then he realized her face was turning slightly red.
“Best not to forget to breathe,
