by Alexa Aston
“But you know I am incapable of it.”
“No, Adam. Not incapable, just too damaged to risk a relationship for fear you’ll hurt the one you love.”
“Perhaps. So are you. But you’ve fallen in love anyway. You’re not being fair to Felicity, you know. She deserves better than to wind up alone and a spinster.”
Angus nodded. “I thought keeping silent was the right decision, but lately it’s been gnawing at me. If it were only me, I’d marry her tomorrow. But my family, those who still survive, are straight out of a Shakespearean tragedy. My parents made MacBeth and his wife look like saints. My brothers poisoned everything they touched. One time, they even tried to poison me. Claimed it as an accident. My father did nothing about it.” He laughed mirthlessly. “Well, it’s almost Christmas. Perhaps we’ll have a sign from above. We are both in need of divine inspiration, aren’t we?”
Adam nodded. “Yes, it would be nice. But I’m as cynical a Scot as you are. I don’t believe in miracles, even though I lie about it to my congregation. I tell them to believe when I cannot. I don’t like deceiving them. It would be nice to have my faith restored.”
“Mine, too.” Angus shook his head and sighed. “See if you can find an extra pillow. I want her foot elevated. As soon as the blizzard ends, I want you to go to Sherbourne Manor and let Lady Poppy know what’s happened. The three of them, Poppy, Penelope, and Olivia, will want to help out.”
He received a frown in response, but little protest. “I like her, Angus. I’m giving you fair warning. If you don’t marry her, I very well may offer for her myself.”
“Don’t speak like that, Adam. You make it sound like we’re kicking her back and forth like a little ball. This is exactly what got her enraged.” Angus refused to look up from his ministrations. They were both behaving like a pair of tavern drunks fighting over the same girl. Could Felicity hear them? It didn’t appear so, and that worried him. He wasn’t certain if she was sleeping or if she’d drifted into unconsciousness again. “Felicity, are you awake?”
She sighed. “I think I’ve been dreaming.”
“About what, love?”
“I’m not sure. It’s all muddled. Everyone wants to marry me. It’s just a silly dream. It has to be. In it, you keep calling me love and the vicar wants to marry me, but everyone knows he’s in love with Lady Poppy and his heart is still recovering from her recent marriage to the Earl of Welles. She’s so lovely. They all are. Poppy, Olivia, Penelope. I wish I had sisters like them. I wish I had a family.”
Adam groaned. “Does everyone think I was in love with Poppy? Gad, Felicity must believe I’m a fickle arse to suddenly shift my affections to her and forget all about my previous unrequited love.”
“Don’t fret about it. I doubt she’ll remember anything that is said tonight.” He lifted the cloth packed in ice to peer at the small lump forming on Felicity’s brow. It wasn’t too bad, not nearly as bad as he feared it would be. But it was early yet. The true test would come later in the night.
He kept the cold cloth lightly pressed to her forehead.
“Tell me what you plan to do about her,” Adam whispered, refusing to give up questioning Angus.
Angus scowled at him. “Stop it. This isn’t the time or place for this discussion.”
“I disagree. The time has come to make your decision. She’s beautiful. Smart. Capable. Kind. I think she’d make an excellent vicar’s wife.”
Angus wanted to wring his neck. Was the man purposely provoking him? “She’s too smart for you.”
“How so? I’m considered quite clever. All the women tell me so.”
Angus refused to look up. “She deserves better than you.”
“That may be true, but so what?”
Angus was truly angry now. He wanted to grab his friend by the collar and toss him out into the snow. But that would upset Felicity when she found out what he’d done. “For how long, Adam? She’s the sort of girl you commit to forever, and you’ve already proven you can’t do that.”
“Can you?”
Angus nodded. “Yes.”
“Then why haven’t you?”
Chapter Five
Felicity wanted to sit up but pain shot through her arm and straight into her head the moment she tried. She gasped and fell back against her pillow. “Ow.” It felt as though a herd of reindeer was stampeding between her ears.
“Felicity, love. Don’t try to get up.”
Her head was ready to burst. Angus had called her love again. Was she still dreaming? Of course, she was. She’d had the strangest dreams all night. “Angus?”
“I’m right here,” he said, taking her hand and giving it a light squeeze. “You broke your arm. Do you remember?”
“No, but it hurts like blazes. All of me hurts.” She opened her eyes and saw him seated beside her. Oh, he looked so wonderful. Big. Muscled. He’d taken off his jacket and vest, and rolled up his sleeves. His cravat was off as well, and his shirt was open at the throat.
The man was beautiful…just, beautiful. Even now, with his hair slightly disheveled and the droop of fatigue in his eyes. He must have stayed up all night tending to her injuries. “How bad?”
“A clean break. It should heal fast. But you’ve also sprained your ankle and hit your head when you fell to the floor.”
“Oh, that’s why the reindeer herd is stomping through my head. I remember now. The mistletoe. I was trying to hang it when I fell off the ladder. I was so angry with you and the vicar.”
He frowned lightly.
“No matter what you think, I am not a pathetic, lonely spinster.”
“Damn it, Felicity. You were never that. You are not that. Don’t you realize how beautiful you are? How much we all care for you? You’re kind and generous. Everyone adores you.”
“How can they? I’m a mess. I can’t even…” She blushed profusely, and her eyes grew wide. “Angus…”
He realized her distress.
“How am I to…” She needed to use the chamber pot. But with a broken arm, a sprained ankle, and the blow to her head leaving her off balance, she would never be able to manage on her own.
“I’ll help you.”
Her heart shot into her throat. “You can’t!”
“There’s no one else, Felicity. Just close your eyes and pretend I’m not here.” Giving her no chance to protest, he scooped her out of bed as gently as he could manage and held her while she cried because she was so embarrassed.
His arms felt wonderful. Strong. Sturdy. Yet, so gentle.
But he held her for all the wrong reasons.
She wanted to be in his arms because he loved her, not because she required assistance with… She burst into tears and couldn’t stop crying.
She’d thought a wager over a first kiss was humiliating, but this was a thousand times worse. Only, he didn’t make her feel wretched about it. He was magnificently supportive and tender, knowing just what to say and when not to talk at all.
He also knew when to turn away.
She loved him so deeply, it hurt more than her physical injuries.
Once he had her back in bed, he handed her a damp cloth and left to put the kettle on, but mostly it was an obvious attempt to allow her the privacy she needed to attend to herself as best as she could. He waited a few minutes before returning to her bedside. “I’ll give you some laudanum today. I was afraid to give it to you last night for fear you wouldn’t wake up again.”
“Yes, um…” She knew she sounded flustered and her cheeks were still on fire, but now that the worst was over, she wasn’t crying any more. “I heard voices in my sleep, but I can’t recall what anyone was saying. It all sounded like a low hum.”
“The vicar and I were talking about you.”
She felt an aching pull to her heart. “I hope you’ve called off the wager.”
“What wager?”
“Isn’t this why you were both in my shop yesterday? To see who would get a kiss from me first? How much did you bet? A shi
lling? A pound? More? Or was it less? Did I come cheap?”
“Blessed saints, no wonder you were suddenly so angry with us. There is no wager. There’s never been a wager. There will never be such a wager. Felicity, we are all your friends.” He ran a hand through his hair and groaned. “I hope you and I are more than friends, but we’ll have that conversation once you are on the mend.”
“Don’t! Please don’t pretend you care for me. It doesn’t make me feel any better. It only makes everything hurt worse.” She closed her eyes and turned away from him so he wouldn’t see her tears. Yes, she had become a spinster watering pot.
“Don’t cry, love.” She was surprised by the light caress of his knuckles against her cheek.
“Why are you calling me that?”
“Because I love you, Felicity Billings. I’ve never loved anyone but you. I should have told you sooner.”
He spoke softly, his voice soothing and tender. How could she trust him? “Angus, stop. I don’t need you to lie to me.”
“It isn’t a lie.”
“Hah! If you felt this way, why didn’t you tell me sooner?”
“The reasons are complicated. I thought I was protecting you.”
“From what?” She was still turned away from him, too overset to look at him.
“From my family.” She heard the bitter ache in his voice. Ironic, she was desperate to have a family, and he obviously hated his own. “I’ll tell you more about them when you’re feeling better.”
She gave a little huff which he could take any way he wished. As for her, she knew their conversation would never happen. He would later admit he was being gentle with her and pretending to love her in order to keep her spirits up while she was so badly injured. Perhaps he would later deny he had ever said the words.
“I love you, Felicity,” he whispered again.
She wanted him to stop.
His admission only brought her more pain.
She meant to insist he leave her alone, but couldn’t seem to form the words.
*
After calming Felicity down again, Angus stepped into the bookshop to peer out the front window. The blanket of low, gray clouds was now lifting, and only a few snowflakes were whirling in the air. The blizzard was ending, and the process of digging out would now start. “Adam, will you head over to the Golden Hart and ask Mrs. Cummings to prepare a broth for Felicity?” He drew a few coins from his pocket. “Bread, too. Lots of it. And some ale and stew for us. I’m starved.”
Adam had just finished stoking the fire and now rose. “I’ll have one of their boys deliver it while I go to Sherbourne and let Lord Welles know what happened.” He set aside the poker and went to fetch his cloak, gloves, and scarf. He buttoned his jacket and donned his scarf. “What was she crying about? Her arm? The goose bump on her head?”
“I told her I loved her.”
Adam’s eyes rounded in surprise. “Finally. About time. And this made her cry anguished tears?”
He sighed. “She didn’t believe me. She thought I was lying to her to make her feel better. She thinks you and I only stopped by to see her because we’d placed a wager on who could kiss the pathetic spinster first.”
“Lord! Is this what she thinks of us?”
“No, it’s what she thinks of herself. She knows her parents purposely abandoned her. She’s afraid that everyone she cares for will eventually abandon her. She’s feeling it particularly hard this year. We have to do something, Adam. Even though you claim to have lost your faith, you’re still Wellesford’s vicar. How do we convince her we care about her? That we’re her family?”
“Words won’t do it. We’ll have to show her.”
“But how? I’m no good at this sort of thing. I’ve lied to her and myself about my feelings for so many years. She passed up two offers of marriage while waiting for me to come to my senses.” He grunted in dismay. “Poppy loaned her that book about love the women all believe is magical. Felicity is skeptical. I think she’s lost all hope of ever finding love. This is my fault. How do I make her believe?”
“I don’t know. We are two faithless, displaced Scots. Who ever thought we’d be having this conversation? Well, leave it to me. As you said, I’m the vicar. I had better come up with an idea.” He paused a moment and shrugged. “I think I know what to do. I just hope it works.” He glanced across the bookshop toward her bedchamber. “Put a robe on her. Make her as presentable as you can.”
“Why? What are you planning?”
He ran a hand roughly through his hair. “Not quite sure. I’m supposed to be good at this piety business. We’ll see if I am. Maybe I’ll get you back into the church and believing again.”
Angus snorted. “Just get on with it. Hurry back with the food.”
“Right. I’m on it.” He opened the door to step out. The sun suddenly burst through the gray clouds. “See, the Lord is on my side. But send dogs out to search for me if I don’t return within the hour.”
Angus merely shook his head as he watched his friend trudge off through the snow that was thigh deep in spots. Despite Adam’s glib remarks and casual demeanor, Angus knew he was firmly committed to doing good.
Almost every man in Wellesford had seen war at one time or another, survived savage battles that could break a man’s faith. But everyone dealt with their experiences differently. Some men were able to absorb the pain and move forward with their heart and conscience intact. Others were broken by what they’d lived through.
As for himself, he gone into the army a broken man. Turning to medicine had saved him, given him the ability to heal others even if he could not heal himself.
Adam had turned to the church to seek his faith for similar reasons.
He trusted Adam.
But how could two men who’d lost faith bring about a miracle for Felicity?
Angus shut the door before the icy wind blew in. He returned to Felicity’s bedchamber and went to her armoire to see what he could find for her to wear. He immediately noticed a robe neatly folded on one of the shelves. It was a pale gray, woolen robe and simple in design. No adornments. No silk ribbon at the sleeves, no embroidery. He’d get her something finer once they were married.
Assuming she’d have him.
“What are you doing?” she asked, watching him dig through her shelves.
“Making you presentable.”
She gasped. “Oh, I must look awful!”
“No, you look beautiful.” Bollocks, what was wrong with him? He wasn’t an idiot, yet he could not ever find the right words when talking to Felicity. “But you’re wearing only a nightgown, and we’ve just sent over to the Golden Hart for food. I doubt Mrs. Cummings will deliver it herself. She’ll probably send over her boys.”
He took the robe and strode to her side. “Let me help you put it on.”
When she nodded, he gently placed her good arm through the sleeve but left the other sleeve draped over her injured arm.
He then poured a little water from the ewer on her night table onto a clean cloth. “Close your eyes, love.”
“Don’t call me that.”
“As you wish, Miss Billings. But it won’t change the fact that I love you. And don’t you dare burst into tears again. Get used to my saying it. I’m not going to stop loving you.” He dabbed the cloth over her eyes and along her lips. He ran it over her cheeks and then along her neck. “I’ll brush your hair next.”
He retrieved her hairbrush and a black ribbon because he couldn’t find a gray one to match her robe. He returned to her side, sat on the bed beside her, and carefully lifted her into a sitting position. “I’ll prop more pillows behind you to make you more comfortable when I’m done.”
He ran his fingers lightly through her wavy locks. Her hair felt soft as silk. “Let me know if I hurt you.” He was careful not to brush too near the lump on her brow. Thankfully, it hadn’t grown bigger, but he needed to apply more ice to the area. He’d do so once he finished with her hair.
Uncertain what
to do next, he swept the lush mane all to one side, leaving it long and loose so that it fell over her shoulder and curled around her breast.
Well, that wasn’t going to work. Every man’s eyes would be drawn there immediately. His were. He couldn’t stop ogling her. “Bollocks,” he muttered, brushing back the glorious mane so that her rich, lustrous curls cascaded over her pillow instead. He tied it all back with the ribbon.
She regarded him silently all the while, the hint of a smile on her face.
Face of an angel.
She looked incredibly beautiful.
It didn’t matter that she had a broken arm or had a reddish-purple lump on her forehead that looked like the eye of a cyclops. Nor did it matter that she had a swollen ankle resting upraised under the covers.
She was still the prettiest woman he’d ever set eyes upon.
Once he’d made her suitably comfortable, he rose to fetch her a cup of tea and a plate of dry biscuits to nibble on until her broth arrived. He had just started reading to her from Mrs. Radcliffe’s novel, The Mysteries of Udolpho, when the bell above the bookshop door tinkled. “Ah, that must be our food.”
He set the book aside and strode into the shop. “Come into the kitchen, lads,” he called to the Cummings boys as they tromped in. “Wait, what’s all this?”
The boys were carrying pots he expected contained broth for Felicity and stew for him and Adam. The aroma was divine. Behind the boys came Mr. Cummings with a jug of lemonade and a basket filled with bread and apple tarts. Lord, even better.
“Mornin’ Dr. Carmichael. The missus sends her regards to ye and Miss Billings. Vicar said she took a very bad tumble. Ye let us know what she needs, and we’ll send it right over.”
“Thank you, Mr. Cummings.”
The boys looked up at him. “Can we pop our heads in?”
Angus nodded. “But don’t get too close. She hurts everywhere.”
“Good mornin’, Miss Billings,” the older boy said as Angus led them in. He cautioned them to remain beside the door.
“Harry, how nice to see you.” She cast him a shimmering smile. “Thank you for bringing over the food.”
