A Night of Angels

by Andersen, Maggi

  Because I was hiding. No. She hadn’t been hiding, she’d been cataloging the supplies in the supply closet down the hall. With the door shut.

  “Well, I had a busy day that day.” Busy thinking about the intense man with the gash in his side. “I didn’t mean to make you upset.”

  He shook his head. “Ye dinna upset me, lass. I only wanted tae see ye again, tae thank ye…”

  There was more he wanted to say, she could hear it in the way he held his breath.

  “No need to thank me, Seamus. I was only doing my job.”

  “Aye, but I still want tae thank ye,” he insisted, leaning forward in his seat, making the thing groan once again.

  Butterflies took flight in her stomach. “Really, no thanks necessary. I’d have done the same for any patient.” But no other patient had affected her like Seams MacAdams had. “It was my pleasure to help you.”

  “Was it?” he asked, and Joy wondered at the question.

  “Of course,” she answered, her voice breaking midreply. She coughed, dipping her face just a bit to try hiding the blush she could feel rising into her cheeks. She was a mess!

  His hazel eyes turned to gold, and he bit his lip, which drew Joy’s attention. His lips were wide, with the bottom lip a little bigger than the top. They were masculine lips, the lips of a man who could probably kiss a woman senseless—why are you thinking about that?!

  She was saved from herself when Ray entered the room, announcing, “Dinner’s hot!” Joy startled but was thankful for the break in the tension growing between her and the man, even now, gazing at her.

  Wiping her hands on her skirt, she stood and watched Ray stride to the front door, throw it open, and shout, “Billy, children! Dinner!”

  Heavens but that woman didn’t care a wit about niceties. It was refreshing. She couldn’t help but grin.

  Ray grinned back. “Let’s go eat before it gets cold. Nothin’s worse than cold potatoes.”

  In a blink, they were all seated around the large rectangular table, Billy and Ray on one side, the two blue-eyed delights on another, with Ray’s mother between them…and Seamus was seated right beside her. She could feel the heat of him radiating, pouring into her like warm honey and whiskey on a chilly night. It was intoxicating.

  It was terrifying.

  Chapter Six

  Seamus couldn’t keep his eyes off her. She was even more beautiful than he remembered. And he could remember just about everything about her. Tonight, her hair was loose about her shoulders, hanging long, and thick, and strikingly down her back. Her dark brown eyes were cautious, anxious, but still filled with a kindness that drew him in. And when she smiled…his heart skipped a beat, thudding into his chest wall like a boulder.

  “I thought the other ladies were joining us,” Joy remarked, her voice a clear bell ringing in his ears.

  Ray finished chewing her mouthful of roast before answering, “Nope. I wanted ya here so we can get to know one another, and…well, I think ya should take my place on the planning committee.”

  That made Joy pause, her fork midway to her lovely mouth.

  “Oh…I don’t know what to say,” Joy murmured, placing her fork back on her plate.

  Ray waved her hand dismissively. “You can just say, ‘yes’, and make my life that much easier.”

  “But I thought you liked spending time with Tilly and the others,” Billy said, his dark eyebrows arching. What Billy didn’t understand about his wife could fill the ocean.

  Another dismissive wave. “I can spend time with her and the others once this Cotillion is over. Lawd, I’d never been so bored in my life as I was that day in the clinic, talkin’ ’bout flowers and punch. I wanted to cut my own ears off.”

  One of the children gasped, which made the other one giggle. They were beautiful children… He could have beautiful children. Something inside his chest kicked and beside him, Joy’s breath caught.

  “Somethin’ the matter, lass?” Seamus asked, leaning into her, wanting to be nearer to her, to touch her, to know how soft her skin was. That thing in his chest kicked again, this time his heart thudded wildly. This woman… He’d never been attracted to another woman, not like he was to her. Wholly, unabashedly. Overwhelmingly.

  She shook her head, avoiding meeting his gaze. “Nothing. Just admiring the children. They are beautiful, Ray,” she remarked, smiling at the two who were eating enthusiastically. One of the many things he noticed about Joy was that she often tried to hide her face from him, especially when she was blushing. She blushed a lot around him; in the clinic, in the living room by the fire…

  Perhaps she is startin’ tae feel somethin’ for ye… Hope took flight within him. Perhaps it wouldn’t be so difficult to get her to fall for him as he had for her. Ray told him it was possible that Joy could already feel something for him, that she’d seemed particularly preoccupied with him during their meeting in the clinic waiting room. But did that mean there was more? That Joy could possibly have warm feelings for him? Any other time he’d call himself a fool for wishing for something so ridiculously impossible—but it was almost Christmas. The season of miracles. And he’d already been gifted one part of his long-awaited miracle. Now, he just had to work on the second part…

  “Of course, they’re beautiful,” Aunt Moira said, puffing out her chest. “They have MacAdam’s blood. One day Avery will be as big as Seamus, and Hannah will be as clever and spirited as I was when I was lass.” His aunt was a handsome woman, with fading auburn hair cut short, and a round face set off by glittering eyes.

  Billy chuckled. “You forget, Moira, they are also Ducharmes. Who’s to say they won’t take after me?”

  His aunt tossed up a single eyebrow and pursed her lips, which made Joy suppress a giggle. The short burst of laughter pulled at him. He wanted to hear her laughter forever. He couldn’t stop looking at her—just a quick glance, because Ray had told him not to stare—and he was rewarded by the sight of her smile. She was grinning at Billy. What he wouldn’t give to have her grin at him like that—unfiltered. He was still gazing at her when she turned to look at him, their gazes colliding. He watched the becoming pink of her blush color into her face.

  “So, lass, will ye take Ray’s place?” he asked, his voice carrying across the table to Ray who looked between the two of them pointedly.

  She cleared her throat. “Absolutely. It would be an honor to help with the planning.”

  Ray slapped the table, making her silverware clatter together.

  “Good!” she exclaimed, beaming at Joy. “Now, let’s finish eatin’! Ma made plum cake for dessert.”

  The chatter over dinner was as he’d expect from his family—loud and lively, but Joy seemed to enjoy herself. She laughed, conversed, smiled, and he spent the whole of the meal drinking her in, speaking when a question was directed at him, and wondering if he really was a fool to think a woman as fine and lovely as Joy would ever marry a brute like him. Beside his large body she was small, fragile-looking, dainty, perfectly made porcelain with the features of an angel. He was sunbaked, smelled of work—no matter how many times he tried to wash it off—and couldn’t walk through a room without making the furniture shake. He was a giant. She was a fae princess.

  His hope sank. It would take more than a miracle for Joy to ever love him.

  “Goodness!” Joy exclaimed. “I have been having such a lovely time, I completely missed the sun setting. I’ll get lost for sure, now.”

  “Don’t worry ’bout that, Joy. We have plenty of room here, if you want to stay until the mornin’.”

  Seamus couldn’t miss the furtive glance Ray cast in his direction.

  “No, that’s alright. I can find my way.”

  “Nay, lass. I can take ye back,” Seamus interjected, pushing away from the table. He didn’t give her a moment to protest. “I’ll get the surrey hitched. I can tie yer horse tae the back.” He tossed his napkin onto his empty plate and met Joy’s wide gaze. “Won’t take more’en ten minutes, and I can
get ye home with nary a hair out o’ place.”

  She swallowed then nodded. “If you don’t mind.”

  “I dunna mind.” And he never would. He would do whatever he could for Joy. He knew that without thinking about it. Whatever she needed, he wanted to provide it, be it rides into town, the shirt off his back, the blood from his veins, the heart from his chest—she could have it all.

  If only she felt the same.

  He thanked Ray for the meal and left the house, jogging to the stable to hitch the surrey to Big Blank, the swiftest draft horse, then he drove the surrey to the front of the house and tied Joy’s rented steed to the back. By that time the whole lot of them were out on the porch, bidding Joy a goodnight. Seamus’s heart was pounding like thunder in a valley. He watched Billy help Joy into the surrey, jealous that Billy got to touch her hand. Jealousy was new to him, as was the surge in other, deeper emotions.

  This ride would be the first time he’d be alone with Joy.

  It both thrilled and terrified him. What if he did something wrong and it ruined any chance he had of winning Joy’s heart?

  He easily remembered what Ray had said that evening before Joy arrived. “You can’t push at her with that MacAdams determination. She’s not a ram. Be gentle with her like you would a flower. Don’t stare. Don’t push. Don’t grunt. Be the gentleman I know is in there somewhere. She’ll come around.”

  He could only hope she was right. Lord, please let her be right…

  He smelled of grass and leather and man—there was no other way to describe the scent that was wholly Seamus MacAdams. It was a scent that made her mouth water.

  I think I might be coming down with something. There was no other way to diagnose her acute symptoms. Sweaty palms, flushed face, rapid heartbeat, increase in saliva, and muddled thoughts. Surely, she was falling ill.

  Sitting stiffly beside Seamus, she forced herself to not stare at him as he deftly and skillfully directed the surrey down the lane away from the house. She watched his hands—large yet gentle—as he worked the reins.

  Throughout dinner, she had felt pulled to him, noticing his every half smile, every move of his hands as he ate, and even the movement of the muscles in his jaw and throat as he drank.

  I am definitely getting ill.

  And it wasn’t just his scent or his magnetism that drew her, it was how attentive he was to his family, how he listened intently, how he seemed to take up the whole room and yet be the quietest one of them all. But when he did speak, with that deep voice and the rumbling brogue, it made her heart flip every time.

  Taking a deep breath to fortify her nerve, she said, “Thank you for driving me home. I know you didn’t have to, and I appreciate it.”

  If it were possible, the man stiffened even more. She could feel the tension roll from his broad shoulders. The muscles bunched in his back and she wondered if sitting so stiffly would hurt his wound.

  “Tis my pleasure tae escort ye home, Joy… I only wish…it were longer,” he replied, his tone a broken sort of murmur. The lantern hanging from a hook on the footboard in front of them cast shadows over his face. She couldn’t see details, but she knew enough to know he was grimacing.

  Despite indicating otherwise, he didn’t want to be there. And why would he? She hadn’t been the most warm and friendly of people. She couldn’t even have a conversation with him without turning into a blubbering idiot—one who blushed more than she ought.

  She forced a laugh. “And torture you further? I’d rather not.”

  He turned to her then, pinning her with eyes that blazed bronze in the lantern light. How was it possible for hazel eyes to change so much in a flash?

  “It isna torture, I assure ye, lass.” That brogue, uttered from the depths of his chest, made her body vibrate. She clamped her mouth shut before she blurted something else.

  They rode along in silence until they reached the road leading to town, then he spoke again.

  “Do ye like animals?” he asked, surprising her.

  “Well…I suppose so. I didn’t have any pets growing up because my father didn’t approve of them, but I’ve always wanted a puppy…or a ferret. Something that would entertain me but also comfort me.”

  He smiled, his gaze on the road ahead. “A ferret, eh? When I was a lad in Inverness, there were many sheep, a handful of pigs, and three wild and loyal sheep dogs. They’d help me and my da herd the sheep during the day, and when one was out at night, guardin’ the flocks, the other two would curl up on my bed and keep me company.”

  She laughed. “Did they leave you much room to sleep?”

  He laughed, too. “Nay, not an inch. But I didna mind. They were like family tae me. I was an only child, so it was me and those dogs.”

  A sadness filled her, a sadness that carried understanding. “I was an only child as well.”

  He cast a look at her, and she caught a hardness in his features.

  “Were ye lonely, lass?” Deep yet soft, his question stirred her.

  Had she been lonely?

  She thought back to when she was small, a lone child in a large townhouse, playing hide-and-go-seek with her mother’s personal maid. Certainly, there were other children in her family’s social circle to play with, but she always knew that, when they played with her, it was out of obligation to their parents. They didn’t really want to play with the little girl with strange shaped eyes. And as she grew, and her circle grew, she felt ever more alone—even in the midst of a room crowded with well-dressed ladies and wife hunting do-nothings. It wasn’t until she met Mollie that she knew what true friendship was. But…that wasn’t nearly enough to keep her heart from aching.

  What would it be like to never know that kind of loneliness again? To know love and affection and devotion without having to worry it would be ripped from you when you offered disappointment instead of success?

  Like with Father…

  “Yes, I was lonely,” she finally responded, suddenly exhausted. She sighed, pressing a hand to her forehead.

  “We’re nearly there, lass. Then ye can get some rest. I ken my family can be a wee bit…rowdy—”

  “No, no! They were wonderful,” she blurted, eager to dissuade him from thinking she didn’t like his family. “I just had a long day at the clinic before going to dinner. Please don’t think I didn’t love spending time with your family…” she paused, looking up at him through her lashes. “And you.”

  Once again, her mouth spoke before her practical mind could filter out the ridiculousness. She bit her lip, determined that not another word would slip out before she could think about it. But that might not have been the best idea, either; Seamus’s gaze was latched on to her bottom lip, his once bronze eyes now a dark brown that would rival any chocolatier’s creation.

  “Ye mean that, lass?” He sounded so…hopeful.

  “Yes, of course. Your family is rowdy but it’s obvious you all love one another and are comfortable with one another.” Unlike her own parents who seemed to touch one another as if each were made of fire.

  “Nay, lass, ye know what I mean…”

  Oh, she certainly did, but she was hoping he’d forget that last part.

  “Did ye love spendin’ time with me?” Had his voice gotten even deeper, his face even more ruggedly handsome? As she watched, Seamus pulled the surrey to a stop before the boarding house. Had she even told him where she was staying?

  Swallowing, she replied, “I know we didn’t get much chance to talk, but…I did enjoy…sitting next to you at dinner—as silly as that sounds.”

  He turned his body to look at her, completely obliterating the light from the lanterns hanging across the street. She couldn’t stop herself from looking up at him.

  “It isna silly, Joy. If it were, I wouldna have felt the same…still feel the same.”

  Shock made her gasp. “What do you mean?”

  He seemed to pull back then, pinching his lips shut against what he might say next. What would he say next? What did any of this
mean?

  And why did it matter? She wasn’t in Dry Bayou to spend time with Seamus, she was there because this was her chance at being a success without her father’s help—or rather the help of his name and connections. She didn’t have time for…whatever this was.

  Straightening her shoulders, she said, “Thank you, again, for the ride. If you don’t mind, can you return the horse to the livery?”

  He gave a curt nod. “Aye.”

  Before he could say anything else, she pulled up her skirts and stepped from the surrey onto the boardwalk outside the boarding house. There weren’t many people out, but that was expected, and the lights and dancing shadows in the window of The Castle told her that some of the other boarders were still awake. She immediately wondered if Mollie were still awake.

  Seamus’s voice stopped her from pressing the latch on the door.

  “Come tae dinner with me.”

  Joy twirled to face him, her hand at her chest. “What?”

  He slid over the seat and climbed down from the surrey, but he didn’t step up onto the boardwalk. Still, he was a head taller than her.

  “I would like tae take ye tae dinner…at the restaurant in the hotel,” he stammered, his large hands twisting themselves into knots. He was nervous—she was nervous! It wasn’t as if she’d never been asked to dinner before, but never by Seamus MacAdams.

  Before she could sew her tongue to her teeth, she blurted, “Yes, I would love that.”

  Whatever she was expecting in response it wasn’t the mind-bending smile that spread across his face. It must’ve lit up the whole street. Her heart stuttered.

  “Tomorrow night?

  She could only nod.

  “I’ll come tae get ye here. At six.”

  She nodded again. “I will be ready.” Will you? that voice asked her.

  He let his hands drop to his sides where he wiped them on his trousers.

  “Goodnight, Joy,” he murmured, like a farewell drenched in longing.

  Joy offered him a parting smile. “Goodnight, Seamus.”