Dragonblade Holiday Bundle: A Historical Romance Collection

by Alexa Aston

  If he had a jot of sense, he’d get on bended knee and offer her his heart this very day, as broken and battered as it was.

  Blast. This is why he detested feelings.

  They complicated everything. Would Felicity even have him? Could she ever love him?

  He paused in front of the Golden Hart, debating whether to step in for an ale before returning to his own empty home. No, he didn’t need to sit there, moping into his tankard and perhaps letting something slip that he ought to have kept to himself.

  He wished it was merely lust he was experiencing, but he knew how he felt about her and it went far deeper than desire for a night of pleasure.

  Felicity was sweet and trusting. He would never purposely harm her. What was wrong with him? Her reputation would be destroyed if anyone ever caught them together. There would be few repercussions for him, of course. He was a man, and the ruination always fell upon the woman. He would not be the one driven out of Wellesford. As their only doctor, he was too valuable for the town to lose. But the local bookshop owner? Felicity would not stand a chance.

  She wouldn’t simply lose her shop, she’d lose all her Wellesford friends and the closest thing she had to family. After all, the three young ladies—Poppy, Penelope, and Olivia—practically considered themselves her adopted sisters.

  Indeed, what was he thinking?

  He could never destroy that fragile bond between them. So why was he feeling this sudden, desperate yearning for Felicity?

  Perhaps the letter he’d received a fortnight ago was to blame. His life was about to change. He would be leaving Wellesford soon. The thought saddened him, for he’d grown to love this community and all its inhabitants, especially, the beautiful bookshop owner.

  Lord, she’s so beautiful.

  What was he going to do about her? Propose to her? But did he dare make any lasting commitments now? He was going to leave for Scotland right after Christmas.

  He marched into his house and lit the lamp on the small table in the entry hall. After removing his coat and scarf, he crossed to the fireplace and lit a fire. The place felt cold and empty, much as his relationship with his family had always been.

  Perhaps this is why he’d been drawn to Felicity from the first. She’d never known her family. He’d always wished he’d never known his. He hadn’t been wanted, an unexpected youngest child, and everyone took pains to let him know it.

  The only one who had accepted him and shown him any kindness was Devlin, his illegitimate half-brother, the other family outcast.

  He poured himself a brandy and sank into his chair beside the fire. The decision not to seduce Felicity Billings ought to have put his mind at ease, but it didn’t. The moment he resolved to stop thinking about her, he simply could not stop thinking about her. The sweet scent of her skin. Her genuinely warm smile. Her lovely, expressive face. The softness of her body.

  “Gad, you’re hopeless.” He finished his drink, then strode into his bedchamber, tossing off his clothes and falling exhausted onto his bed. He lay atop his covers, allowing the cold air to bite his skin. Thoughts of Felicity, entirely improper ones, still had him in a hot lather, and he needed to cool down.

  Having resolved not to act on his feelings for her—at least, not until he’d gone to Scotland and assessed his inheritance—the worst thing he could do was go to see her the next morning. But that’s just what he did. After washing and dressing, he slogged his way through the piles of driven snow to reach her bookshop.

  He knocked on the door and was about to turn away when he heard the light patter of footsteps. Then the door opened and he was graced with the loveliest smile. “Do come in, Dr. Carmichael…Angus. Forgive me, but I’m running a little late this morning.” The sign on the door said closed, but this hadn’t stopped him from rapping on it.

  “I wanted to make certain you were all right.” For pity’s sake, he was a doctor. Learned. Intelligent. Couldn’t he come up with a better excuse to see her?

  She cast him another genuinely warm smile. “Oh, most kind of you. I made it through the storm quite well, thank you.” She glanced at the sign. “Do come in. I didn’t see the point to opening on time when I doubted anyone would come by today. But you’re here and quite a welcome sight you are. I hope I didn’t keep you waiting long.”

  “Not at all.” Yes, she’s beautiful.

  “Would you like a cup of tea? I’ve just put the kettle on to boil.” Her hands went to her unbound hair. She hadn’t bothered to do it up in its usual prim bun, so it fell long and loose down her back, the ends curling about her hips. “Please do have a seat. Or browse among the bookshelves. I’ll only be a moment.”

  She darted behind the curtain and returned less than a minute later with those long, silken strands a distant memory. She was once more the prim bookshop owner, her hair neatly tucked in a bun at the nape of her slender neck.

  Well, she didn’t look prim. Just achingly soft and splendid. She couldn’t hide the beauty of her face or her perfect body which was covered from neck to toe by her woolen gown. It was of good quality merino wool that draped gently over her curves. The dark green fabric somehow highlighted the green of her eyes.

  Was he mistaken, or did her eyes seem to sparkle?

  “The snow has stopped for now,” he said, shaking his head to clear his thoughts. “But I expect it will start up again soon. Are you still well stocked?” He glanced out the window toward the sky. “We’re due for another big snowfall today.”

  She was looking at him, but startled as the kettle suddenly whistled. She left his side to run to the stove and remove the kettle from the heat. She poured a cup of tea for each of them and returned with them in hand. “Would you care for cream? Sugar?”

  “No, Felicity. This is perfect.”

  They sat at the corner table in the bookshop, drifting into an amiable silence. But it only lasted for a few moments before she began to fuss, obviously unsettled to be alone with him even though there was nothing improper about it.

  She’d turned her sign to mark her shop as open. Anyone could have walked in on them and would have seen nothing but the owner and her customer having tea. Indeed, anyone could have peered in through the window and found them merely sitting at the table and chatting. “Make yourself comfortable, Angus. I’ll hang up your coat.”

  He hadn’t taken it off yet. He hadn’t planned on staying beyond a quick greeting. But he was seated now, and the thought of leaving Felicity’s side was not at all pleasing to him.

  He removed his coat and scarf, tossing them on the empty chair beside him and staying her hand when she was about to rise in order to hang them on the pegs beside the fireplace. “My coat and scarf are fine right here. How was your evening?”

  “I’ve made good progress on my gown. You know, the one I plan to wear for the Christmas party. The style wasn’t nearly as bad as I feared it would be.”

  “You worked on it last night?”

  She nodded.

  He eyed her casually, although there was nothing casual about the desire she ignited in him. “There can’t be much to do. You haven’t changed since the day you arrived here. How long has it been?”

  “Too many years to count.” She winced. “Don’t remind me. I was young and hopeful back then.”

  He chuckled. “And I had no gray hair.”

  She rested her hands on the table, one on each side of her teacup. “One or two gray hairs don’t count. They make you look distinguished, that’s all. And don’t you dare say you’re getting old, because if you are, then I must be as well. You’re only a few years ahead of me. Six years, to be precise. I’m twenty-nine now.”

  “Which makes me a young and hale thirty-five.” Lord, she was right. Where had the time gone?

  Her smile suddenly faltered. “Oh, Angus. I thought I’d be married and have children by now.”

  He leaned forward and placed a hand over hers. “You’ve had offers, Felicity. There will be others. Surely you know how beautiful you are.” Hell,
he shouldn’t have said that. “Why did you turn those men down?”

  She shook her head and moaned lightly. “I didn’t love them. They were nice men, I won’t deny it. But I never wanted to marry merely for the sake of convenience. Shouldn’t there be more?”

  He squeezed her hand. “Yes, for someone like you.”

  Her laughter sounded wistful. “Someone foolishly romantic?”

  “There’s nothing foolish about holding out for love.” Had he been doing the same and simply not realized it? He’d always been in love with Felicity, but to marry her and have his family get their talons into her? He’d never wanted that. And yet, he’d also deprived both of them of happiness by staying away from her. Why hadn’t he ever done something about it? He had the ring burning a hole in his pocket. What was he waiting for? “Love is a good thing.”

  “No, it’s quite frustrating,” she said with an ache to her voice. “It crushes all good sense. I’m practical in all other aspects of my life, so why can’t I be practical in this?”

  “Because the best sort of love is the one that catches you off guard. It is illogical, unreasonable, and never practical. It is a maelstrom that tosses you upside down and inside out and threatens to swallow you up.”

  She laughed again, but he saw that she was struggling to hold back tears. “Have you ever been in love, Angus?”

  Yes, with you. Always. Forever.

  But he wasn’t about to confess it now.

  His plan had been to ride up to his home in Scotland, see how much of a wreck his family had made of their holdings, and then return to Felicity.

  “I’ve been purposely avoiding it for most of my life,” he said instead. He still held her hand, unwilling to let go of it. But he held it gently so she could slip out of his grasp if she wished.

  She tipped her head up and regarded him with obvious confusion. “Why avoid it? I’m quite the opposite. I’ve longed for it, hoped for it all the while I grew up in the orphanage. So you see, I cannot marry a man I do not love. And I’m starting to worry he will never come along. I don’t want to spend the rest of my life alone.”

  Nor did he, but the letter he received two weeks ago was going to change everything. “Is there anyone you’ve cared for enough to marry?”

  She nodded.

  Her admission surprised him. He didn’t like that she’d felt something for another man. He suddenly grew possessive, wanted to cut this man to ribbons. It was an odd feeling to be jealous. Yes, that’s what he was. It was his own fault.

  He’d always liked Felicity…no, loved Felicity, but had no right to feel anything when he’d never declared himself to her. Things were different now. He only hoped he wasn’t too late. “Aren’t you going to tell me who it is? You know I will keep it in confidence.”

  “No, it’s too personal.” She was staring into her tea, an intensely pained stare, and refusing to look at him.

  In truth, this conversation was not one they should be having. But the thought of Felicity in love with another man had his gut twisted into knots. “Is it the vicar?”

  She gazed at him in surprise, her kissable mouth rounded in a perfect O. “No, why would you think… I suppose because all the women in town melt at the sight of him. He is handsome. But he isn’t the one. He’s never been.”

  That eased his mind, until another thought crossed his mind. “Is the man married?”

  She gasped. “Certainly not! How could you think I would–”

  “I didn’t. I merely raised it as a possibility.”

  “Put it out of your mind at once! If this man is married, then he’s gone to great pains to hide it from everyone in town. And if he has been married all this time and kept it a secret from all of us, then he is the meanest, lowest, most detestable scoundrel ever to walk the earth. No, ever to crawl like a snake on his belly and slither across the earth.”

  She was scowling at him now.

  Tossing daggers at him with her gaze.

  He sighed. “I did not mean anything by it. Just making certain no one took advantage of you.”

  “I think it is safe to say, he would be the last man ever to take advantage of me. Sometimes I think he doesn’t know I exist.” She rose suddenly and returned to her kitchen. “Would you care for more tea? Or have you had quite enough of it and me?”

  He rose, but remained at the threshold beside the drawn curtain. He dared not follow her in. Taking that step beyond was too dangerous. She was angry now, but it would take little to channel that anger into smoldering passion.

  Indeed, it would take nothing to enclose them in her private quarters, no more than a light tug to the curtain. What happened next would not be tame or wholesome.

  “Seems you’ve had enough of me today,” he muttered as the import of Felicity’s words filtered through his brain which was working rather slowly this morning. She was speaking of him, angry that he hadn’t pursued her in all these years, and even angrier that he’d stupidly asked if the man she loved was married. The pain was right there, etched into her expressive eyes. He was the one who’d stolen her heart.

  Fool that he was, he’d been unwittingly trampling it for all these years.

  He wasn’t attached and had never been.

  If he were to marry, it would be to Felicity.

  Wanting to marry her had never been the problem.

  She fancied herself in love with him, but he didn’t merely fancy her. He was deeply in love with her. He’d been in love with her from the moment she’d first smiled at him. Loved her, ached to hold her. Ached to kiss her.

  But he’d been too filled with bile over his family situation to do the right thing and court her.

  He’d chosen anger, bitterness, and rage over love, and it might have cost him Felicity.

  Now, he’d been summoned home. What a jest! Home was where he’d been beaten and abused. Home was the cruelest place on earth to him, and he had the scars to prove it.

  He couldn’t bring Felicity there.

  What was he going to do about her?

  Chapter Three

  Felicity spent the next few days watching snow fall like a curtain over the town. It had been snowing for three days now, and the drifts were piling dangerously high. Since everyone was quite dug in and afraid to come out of their little burrow holes, she had spent the unexpectedly free hours finishing alterations to her gown, then pressing out the wrinkles and carefully storing the gown in her wardrobe to keep it good as new and ready to wear on Christmas eve.

  She’d also caught up on business matters, completing her inventory and balancing her ledgers. Since there was nothing more to do, she’d picked up The Book of Love, made herself comfortable atop her bed, and started reading. No one came by to interrupt her.

  Angus had been the last person to stop in and check on her.

  At first, she’d quite enjoyed her idle time. But as the days wore on, she found herself running out of chores to occupy her time. She grew tired of doing nothing but reading and soon became bored and aimless. If there was magic to this book that dwelt on the science of love, she simply wasn’t finding it.

  In truth, she found it hard to read many of the passages, for they were about shared experiences, family connections, and exploring one’s senses. She had no family connections. Her shared experiences were with other orphans.

  As for the senses, hers were obviously awry.

  Angus was the only man who had ever made her heart beat faster. She’d taken in the sight of him, the clean, manly scent of him. She loved his deep voice and light, lilting brogue that often slipped out beneath his cultured English accent.

  She loved his touch.

  There were times she was sure he was about to kiss her, but she was always wrong.

  To make matters worse, Angus had not come by these past few days.

  She didn’t know why it suddenly mattered to her. Perhaps because she saw her life passing before her very eyes and did not wish to waste another moment of living it. But how was she to start living i
t when the snow was piling up so high, no one dared stir from their beds?

  Once the winter storm cleared, why would Angus bother with her? She’d shouted at him and practically chased him out the door the last time they were together. “Well done, Felicity. You certainly know how to entice a man.”

  She had just decided to put up holiday decorations to brighten her spirits, no matter that it was a few days earlier than customary, when the bell over her front door tinkled. Her heart beat a little faster. A visitor to the shop!

  She scurried to the front door. “Oh, Vicar. Is everything all right?”

  She tried to mask her disappointment, but he arched an eyebrow and cast her a wry smile. “Expecting someone else?”

  “No. Why would anyone dare leave their home on a day like this? I’m glad to be proved wrong. Only mad dogs and vicars would risk going out in this blizzard,” she teased. “But I’m glad you’re here. I could use the company.”

  The day was obviously wretched and he looked cold. She took pity on him. “You’re shivering and wet. Would you like a cup of tea?”

  “Yes, Miss Billings. I’d love some. I’ve been going around town making certain everyone is safe and not in need of anything.” He shook the snow out of his hair and removed his cloak, gloves, and scarf. She took them from him to hang on the pegs beside the fireplace.

  “You need more logs for the fire,” he remarked, bending down to stoke it. “You’re running low.”

  “I have more out back. I suppose I should bring them in before nightfall.”

  “I’ll do it. I am entirely at your service.”

  Felicity laughed. “I baked a lemon cake. Would you care for a slice?”

  “Tea and lemon cake and your company? I can’t think of anything more pleasant.”

  She stared at his broad back as he went out the back door and gathered an armful of logs. She left the door ajar while she put out the cake and poured each of them a cup of tea. All was set out by the time he hurried back in a few moments later. “The devil! It’s freezing out there.” He stomped his feet at the entry to knock the snow off his boots.