The Artist's Healer

by Regina Scott

  She raised a ginger brow. “I can think of a dozen ways to remove it without you kissing it off.”

  “A dozen, eh?” Linus couldn’t help his smile.

  “Do you doubt me?” She raised her chin in a gesture of defiance he had come to know well. “I could have eaten more of the bun. I could have sipped water or tea. I could have requested a napkin from Mr. Ellison. I might have brushed it off with my fingers.” She slid her fingertips across the soft flesh. “I could have licked it off.” Her tongue flicked out.

  “That is sufficient demonstration,” Linus said, feeling the need to stand and look out toward the cool waters of the cove. “I apologize for doubting you.”

  She rose as well. “Apology accepted, for the doubt and for the kiss. We should report to the spa, but I have one stop to make first.”

  “Another cinnamon bun?” he asked, trying not to look eager at the thought.

  “No, Mrs. Kirby’s leasing agency. I want to see about another house for you.”

  ~~~

  It was likely the least important thing in that moment. He would have patients waiting at the spa. Eva might need her help. There were French agents plaguing the village! But Abigail had to do something immediately, or she’d likely kiss him again.

  And why? What was wrong with her? After seeing the tragedy of her parents’ marriage, she’d never thought to wed. Of the men with whom she’d associated closely over the years, the only two who weren’t despots were Doctor Chance and Mr. Carroll, and neither had been disposed to look at her as a possible partner. Neither had particularly stirred her spirit either. She certainly hadn’t hoped for a kiss! Even Quillan St. Claire seemed all brash bravado, and she’d never dared to look deeper.

  Linus Bennett was different. Those grey eyes could brim with compassion, and he truly listened to what others said. He was willing to admit when he didn’t know something and equally willing to learn from his mistakes. And he admired her painting and determination. But as a physician, he was used to ordering people about. Could she live with such a man?

  Not that he’d asked her for a commitment. Indeed, as they walked through the village, he seemed determined to ignore the matter, head up and look on the distance. Perhaps it had been an aberration, brought on by the emotions of the birth.

  “I believe Mr. Lawrence is signaling us,” he said.

  She glanced around him. The jeweler was standing in the bow window of his shop, pointing down at a display of rings.

  Wedding rings.

  “You mistake him,” Abigail said, scooting around to put herself between Linus and the shop. “He seems to be dusting his wares.”

  He frowned. “And Miss Pierce the elder?”

  Abigail looked toward the linens and trimmings shop, where the older sister had come out, lace draped along her arm like a wedding veil.

  “Is airing her goods,” Abigail said with a furious shake of her head at the lady, who pouted. “I imagine some get quite musty on the voyage from Ireland.”

  He did not look convinced as she hurried him up the street to Mrs. Kirby’s home.

  The lady was in residence and happy to discuss the matter with them on her wide front porch overlooking the cove. She seated them on the wicker chairs there and had her housekeeper bring out lemonade. Abigail explained the situation, then drank deeply. She certainly didn’t want any more sugar on her lips.

  Just another kiss.

  “I know the perfect house,” Mrs. Kirby said, as if she hadn’t noticed the color climbing in Abigail’s cheeks or perhaps attributed it to the exertions of their walk. “I showed it to Mrs. Howland the other week. A fine four bedroom with a study off the entrance, perfect for an examining room.”

  Abigail swallowed the tart liquid. “Why didn’t the Howlands take it?”

  “Mrs. Howland preferred to be away from High Street,” Mrs. Kirby said, leaning back in the wicker chair. “But I would think that location a benefit for a doctor. Easy access for his patients. And it’s just up the street from Shell Cottage, where they used to see their physician.”

  So Abigail would be close to Jess. No, no! This house wasn’t for her. It was for Linus and Ethan. She would not be living in it.

  “I can show it to you now, if you’d like,” Mrs. Kirby offered, glancing between them.

  Linus started to shake his head, but all at once, Abigail wasn’t willing to share him with the spa again so soon.

  “That would be delightful,” she told the leasing agent.

  Mrs. Kirby went to fetch the key.

  “I have appointments this afternoon,” he reminded her, large hands cradling the glass.

  “None that cannot wait,” Abigail said. “At least look at the house to see if it’s something you might want to pursue.”

  He regarded her a moment, and Abigail dropped her gaze. Silly, really. It wasn’t as if he could see what she was dreaming.

  Could he?

  “Very well,” he said, and a tingle shot through her.

  The leasing agent returned and led them up the street to a tall stone house with green shutters on the multipaned windows. The front garden overflowed with flowers, and an old, curly limbed tree in the back shaded it from the summer sun.

  “The four bedchambers are all upstairs,” Mrs. Kirby explained as she let them into a wide entry hall with a warm wood floor. “One could be used as a study. And there are quarters above the carriage house in the back for staff.”

  They wandered through the rooms. Easy to imagine sitting on that settee there by the window in the wide withdrawing room, her mother’s dishes in the mahogany hutch built into the dining room wall. Ethan would love the bedroom nearest the tree. They’d have to watch that he didn’t climb out the window into it as he grew older.

  And there she went daydreaming again!

  Linus spent the most time studying the room to the right of the entry, which Mrs. Kirby had suggested could be his examining room.

  “The house would be ideal,” he finally told the leasing agent. “How much for a year’s lease?”

  She named a price that raised Abigail’s brows. Linus thanked her and told her he would consider the matter.

  “Too dear,” he said to Abigail as they started for the spa at last. “It would take more than half my salary at the spa.”

  “Let’s not rule it out just yet,” she said as he paused to look up and down the street. “Having you able to treat all comers would be a great benefit to the village. It would help Upper Grace and the outlying farms as well. Perhaps Mr. Greer could negotiate an agreement with the owner.”

  He took her good arm and started across the street. “Who owns the land in the area?”

  “Approximately half belongs to the Earl of Howland; the rest is divided among Lord Peverell and a few yeoman farmers. I’m not sure where this house falls.”

  He stopped at the corner of Church and High Street, hand lingering on her arm. She didn’t pull away.

  “Why don’t you go up to the spa?” he suggested. “I’ll ask Mrs. Kirby about the matter.”

  “No need,” she assured him. “We’ll see her Sunday at St. Andrew’s. I’m sure the house won’t be let before then.”

  “Nevertheless,” he said, “I would prefer that you continue on to the spa.”

  Abigail frowned at him. His gaze had narrowed, his body tensed. This couldn’t be about the house.

  “Why?” she asked. “What’s wrong?”

  He leaned closer. “A gentleman has been following us since we left the bakery. I would prefer to know you’re safe before confronting him.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  She didn’t budge. He hadn’t really expected that she would. This was a woman who looked danger in the face and went after it tooth and nail. So, he shifted his position to put his back to the fellow and stepped to the left to allow her a view down the street.

  “Big man,” he murmured. “Keeps his distance. Do you see him?”

  She nodded, gaze focused beyond him. “Tough visage t
oo. I wouldn’t want to tussle with him.”

  Linus nearly sagged with relief. “Then please do as I ask, and go up to the spa.”

  “And miss all the fun?” Her gaze met his, and her green eyes sparkled. She stepped around him and raised her voice. “Jack! Jack Hornswag! Come make yourself known to our physician.”

  Linus turned as the burly fellow approached. Dressed in a rough coat and trousers, a red, bushy beard hanging down to the middle of his chest, he loped up to them and came to a stop to pull off his cap. “Miss Abby, Doctor Bennett. I’m your escort this evening, sir. I just thought I’d practice a bit first.”

  “Mr. Hornswag is the proprietor at the Mermaid,” Abigail explained, smile this side of smug again. “Mother and I have been relying on his staff’s cooking for years.”

  He grinned, betraying teeth stained yellow. “My best customers. I’ve known her since she was a girl.”

  For some reason, that sobered her. “I’m glad to see you’re on duty, but who’s minding the inn?”

  “Thought I’d give Arnie Williams a try. He’s my latest cook,” he confided in Linus. “It’s only one night, and he could use the experience. Plus, he’s big enough to bust a few heads if needed.” He barked a laugh.

  Hornswag looked as if he could bust a few heads himself. His protection would certainly intimidate the French more than that of young Mr. Lawrence.

  “Thank you for the assistance,” Linus told him. “We were just returning to the spa. Will you join us?”

  Hornswag shuddered, an earthquake on a mountain. “Not me. Too many fancy sorts there. I generally cater to the men who work with their hands. No offense meant, sir. I’ll just keep an eye on the place until you’re ready to leave.”

  Linus thanked him again, then turned with Abigail for the spa.

  “Don’t feel foolish for mistaking him,” she said as if she could read Linus’s face so well. “You’re still learning everyone in the village. And he is rather large.”

  Could she read his mind as well? “I’m not used to requiring protection.”

  “It’s as much for Ethan as it is for you,” she reminded him. “And I admit to sleeping easier knowing you’re safe.” As if she heard the same tender concern he did, she hurried on. “We have needed a physician for some time. I don’t intend to hand him over to the French.”

  And he had needed someone who cared.

  Impossible to doubt it, though he hadn’t been willing to admit it even to himself until now. But once he had admitted it, the thought refused to leave him. It hovered over him as he saw to his patients then updated their case files that afternoon.

  Growing up, he’d been one of the few lads among the families following the drum. He had relied on the company of his mother and father until they’d both passed. Small wonder he’d found it hard to make friends at Edinburgh. Not that he’d had much time for such things with his studies. He would never have met Catriona if not for an invitation from a professor to join him at a friend’s house for dinner.

  Her father had been a wealthy banker who donated to the school. The house, the food, had impressed Linus. It had been soup and bread most nights for him. One look at Cat near the head of the table, and he hadn’t been able to look away. He’d never understood why she’d sought him out for further acquaintance among her dozens of admirers. He had not fit into her set of horse-mad, sporting enthusiasts. But he’d convinced himself he loved her and that she returned his love. He was no longer sure of either.

  Yet was what he began to feel for Abigail any different? She too was a beautiful woman with a propensity for finding trouble. Cat had generally made her own trouble by taking risks in the name of fun. Abigail risked all for what she believed in—a position for her friend, the safety of her village. It was hard to find fault with such zeal.

  But that didn’t mean he had to kiss her, even if he had to argue himself out of kissing her again.

  One kiss—a moment’s aberration brought on by the heat of the moment. Two—or three or four—kisses, a statement he was not prepared to make.

  But his new neighbors thought otherwise.

  “I am very thankful for the care you’ve shown Abigail,” Eva said as she brought the teacart to the empty examining room that afternoon so he could have a cup. “She is an amazing woman. Don’t you agree?”

  He glanced out the open door to where Abigail was speaking with Mrs. Rand before noting something in his appointment book. “Indeed I do.”

  “Excellent,” she said with a smile. “I hope to hear good news soon.”

  Jack Hornswag voiced his opinion as he escorted Linus down to the Archers. Abigail had gone ahead while Linus finished locking up the spa.

  “Fine woman, Miss Abby,” he said, falling into step beside Linus and dwarfing him in the process. “A lady to be respected and admired.”

  Linus could only nod agreement. If he spoke, he might betray too much.

  “I was very glad to see neither her nor her brother took after their father,” Hornswag continued. “Tragic case, that.”

  Linus frowned. “Was he ill long?”

  Hornswag snorted. “I wouldn’t call illness what a man brings on himself. Mean as the distance is long, that one. Made a mess of my public room more than once. Rumor was he made a mess of his home as well. Never did know what his sweet wife saw in him. No one missed him.”

  Linus could not imagine Abigail growing up with a tyrant of a father, nor her gentle mother marrying such a fellow. Had she learned her determination by standing up to the man?

  Her mother seemed to have borrowed some of that determination, for she took his arm and drew Linus aside as soon as he entered the flat that evening while Jack waited at the door.

  “Abigail is fetching dinner from the Mermaid,” Mrs. Archer told Linus, eyes bright in a face that was beginning to wrinkle with cares. “And Ethan is gathering his things. I just want you to know you have my blessing.”

  She was so fervent, but she could not mean what he thought. “Blessing?” Linus asked.

  She smiled. “To propose to Abigail, of course. I already think of Ethan as my grandson, so it will be easy.”

  Easy, she said, as if adding another person, another family, to his life was anything less than complicated. If his own conflicted feelings weren’t enough to give him pause, he had to consider Ethan. His son had been through so much in the last year. Was he any more ready for Linus to marry again?

  “You seem to be getting on well with Mrs. Archer,” Linus ventured as they walked home, Jack lumbering a respectful distance behind. Linus hadn’t wanted to frighten his son by mentioning the kidnapping; he’d only told the boy that the village wanted to ensure their safety at the odd hours he worked. So the boy didn’t question their hulking shadow now.

  “She’s very nice,” Ethan agreed, gaze on the pebbles at his feet.

  “And what of Miss Archer?” Linus asked, shoulders tensing.

  “She’s nice too,” Ethan allowed, shifting the books he carried. “She’s a little like Mother.”

  Now his throat and back felt tight as well. He forced his voice to come out neutrally. “Oh? In what way?”

  “She’ll talk to me, play games with me, but she doesn’t get tired of me like Mother did.”

  An ache spread through him. If only he could assure Ethan his mother had never tired of him, but he couldn’t. Cat had hated motherhood, seeing it as one more chain to bind her. He couldn’t even assure Ethan she had loved him. If she had truly loved her son, or Linus, she would never have taken such risks.

  “Miss Archer is a singular lady,” he said instead. “I’m glad you’ve had the chance to become better acquainted.”

  “Me too,” Ethan said. “I heard Mrs. Archer tell Mr. Carroll she hopes you’ll get married. That might be nice.”

  Linus stumbled on the path and righted himself in time to climb the steps to the cottage door. “You wouldn’t mind if I brought home a wife, a new mother for you?”

  Ethan looked up into his
eyes at last, face drawn. Was Linus mad to see hope as well? “So long as she doesn’t leave us like Mother did.”

  Linus lay a hand on his shoulder, so small, so fragile. “None of us knows when we’ll be called to Heaven, Ethan, but most people don’t actively seek to leave now.”

  “I know,” Ethan said. “I was worried at first you’d go after her, because that’s what you always did. Mother would dash off, and you would go find her and bring her home. But you stayed with me this time.”

  Tears were burning his eyes. Linus went down on one knee and wrapped his arms about his son. “I will always stay with you, Ethan. You are my son. I love you. So long as there is breath in my body, I will be here with you.”

  Ethan lay his head on Linus’s shoulder, and he felt the sigh go out of him. “When they hear Mother is dead, everyone says I must miss her. Is it bad that I don’t miss her so much?”

  “No.” Linus pulled away to look his son in the face. The downturned eyes, the tight cheeks, tugged at his heart. “You didn’t know your mother well. She wasn’t as much a part of your life as some mothers. Missing her or not is entirely up to you and quite natural.”

  He nodded as if drawing comfort from the words. “Good. I’d miss you more, though. You mustn’t let those Frenchies capture you again.”

  Linus’s brows shot up. “Where did you get the idea I was about to be captured by the French?”

  He glanced back at Hornswag, who grimaced, and Linus could only wonder how much he’d overheard.

  “Mrs. Archer was talking with Mr. Hornswag the other day,” Ethan admitted. “And Charlie Lawrence in my class with the vicar mentioned it as well. Mr. Wingate, the vicar, said we should pray for your safety.”

  Linus rose. “With such men as Mr. Hornswag at my back, I am perfectly safe. And so are you.”

  Now, if he just knew what to do about Abigail.

  ~~~

  Linus Bennett did not attempt to kiss her again the next couple of days. It was rather disappointing. Of course, she hadn’t encouraged his kiss and had not planned on a courtship, which usually went with such a kiss. She’d met very few men who could be trusted, in the long run. Yet, Linus seemed like he should be added to that number.