A Night of Angels

by Andersen, Maggi

  With one final long, intense stare, Seamus—with more grace and agility than a man his size should own—hopped into the surrey and drove away.

  Chapter Seven

  Seamus tossed the rope onto a hay bale and wiped the sweat from his eyes. It had been a long day of helping the hands unload the five wagons, piled high with the winter’s worth of feed for the Ducharme’s horses, into the large storage room off the main stable. Billy bred Percherons—incredibly beautiful, incredibly picky horses. They’d only eat feed made from German barley, which was the only feed Billy ordered. The feed came in large quantities on the train from Iowa to San Antonio, and then by wagon from there.

  Not that any of that mattered to Seamus. He was the shepherd; his job was looking after the sheep herds and keeping the elder Ducharmes in wool and mutton. Pulling out his pocket watch, he noticed it was only just noon—still six hours until he could see Joy again. Shaking his head, he sucked in a breath and held it, forcing himself to calm. Ever since last night, he’d been a bundle of overwrought nerves and racing thoughts. He couldn’t believe that she’d actually agreed to have dinner with him. Alone. In a fancy place like La Beau Bayou, where the atmosphere would be ideal for romancing… Not that he knew the first thing about romance. And would Joy even be receptive to that kind of thing? Maybe she’d only said yet because she pitied him—he’d been a right oaf with her—he hadn’t even thought to help her out of the surrey, he’d been so caught up in just being near her. He’d have to remedy that tonight; he needed to make sure the evening was perfect. Because Joy was perfect…and he wasn’t. Far from it. Too large, too rough around the edges, and much too intensely MacAdams—determined, driven, and passionate. A man like him couldn’t possibly attract a woman as delicate and soft as Joy Song.

  Hope slipped a little further into the dark pit in his belly.

  Deep as he was in his thoughts, he didn’t hear Billy approach.

  A slap on the back brought him around to face his grinning cousin-in-law.

  “You have an interesting look on your face, Seamus. Thinking about tonight?” Billy asked, his grin widening.

  Seamus knew he shouldn’t have told Ray about his dinner plans with Joy; the woman would, of course, tell her husband. And now, Seamus had to deal with an insufferable man.

  “Aye, I am thinkin’ about tonight…” he answered, cutting himself off from saying more. Like how he was nervous and ready to pull his hair out in great big clumps.

  Billy’s gaze sharpened and his grin disappeared. “And… That can’t be all. You don’t seem as excited as I expected you to be.” Billy took hold of Seamus’s shoulder and gave it a squeeze. “You know, if there’s something, anything, you want to talk about…you know I’m good for it.”

  Seamus nodded, biting back his usual curt yet good-natured retort.

  “I mean it, Seamus. I am a happily married man, but I know what it feels like to love someone and feel that hopelessness. I knew that if I couldn’t have Ray, I’d never be happy, I’d never know contentment or true joy. She was it for me, Seamus. And I am more than grateful that she chose me—even though I didn’t deserve her.”

  Seamus stared at the man married to his cousin, seeing him in a new and surprising light.

  “I thought she pursued ye,” he remarked, and Billy shook his head.

  “Not as much as she’d like you to think. We both realized, around the same time, that our feelings for one another had grown into love. Ray took a more direct route to ‘win’ me, but I’d already been won, she just didn’t know it until she opened up to me and I responded in kind. Before that, there was a lot of misunderstanding and frustration on both our parts.”

  Suddenly frustrated, Seamus shoved his fingers through his hair. “What does this have tae do with me? Ray loved ye, Joy barely looks me in the eye.”

  Sighing, Billy squeezed Seamus’s shoulder again before dropping his hand.

  “I guess…well, I guess you can’t tell how she feels about you unless you tell her how you feel about her first. If she is even half the woman I think she is, she’ll be honest with you. You’ll never know unless you take the risk of losing it all.”

  Losing it all?

  Would his heart survive that?

  The ride into town was a blur; he couldn’t remember leaving the ranch. All he could remember was both wanting to see Joy and dreading it.

  What will she think about my plans for the evenin’? Will she laugh in my face when I open my heart tae her?

  He couldn’t stop the negative thoughts from stampeding through his mind, pounding his confidence into a bloody pulp. But that mattered little…because as he came within sight of the boarding house, all thoughts fled his mind, rushing from his head like the breath from his chest.

  Joy was standing on the boardwalk, her hair loose about her shoulders; a cascade of ebony silk. A blush pink dress draped her form, showing off her trim waist and perfectly curvy hips. The lanterns burning brightly from the hooks on each side of the door kept him from seeing her face as he approached, but as he pulled to a stop, he could see she was biting her luscious bottom lip nervously. Good, she was nervous, too. But did that mean she was excited about the evening or dreading it?

  Only one way to find out…

  Before she could call a greeting, he jumped from the seat and came around to take her hand in his. She wasn’t wearing gloves, and so—for the first time—his skin caressed hers. Lightning zigged through him, from his fingers into his chest, and back again. He stared at where they were connected then his gaze rose to meet hers. Her astonishing eyes were probably as wide as his were, and her other hand was pressed against her chest, as if her own heart had been struck with whatever had struck his.

  Can this mean what I hope it means?

  “Joy,” he said, his voice scratchy, “you look beautiful.”

  As if shaken, she pulled her hand from his and blinked. “Th-thank you, Seamus. And you look quite handsome. So very handsome—I—” She clapped a hand to her mouth, trapping whatever else she was about to say.

  Very handsome, eh?

  He liked that, very much. Verra much, indeed.

  Clearing her throat, she blurted. “Can we walk to the hotel? It feels too nice out to not take advantage of the balminess.”

  Walk? He felt like he’d been gifted a golden egg! That would give him more time with her, and…perhaps…the chance to touch her hand again. To hold her hand in his; his rough hands clasping tightly to her tiny, soft ones. He shuddered.

  “A walk sounds divine,” he replied, rushing back to the other side of the wagon to jump into the seat and take the reins. “Give me but a moment and I’ll be back. Must leave the wagon at the livery.” She nodded, her lips curving into a small smile. His heart pounding, he left and returned—on foot—in less than ten minutes. He’d never run so fast in his life—and he’d been chased by a wolf once! By the time he reached her, he was breathing hard, but he didn’t care about that, because his eyes were on her, only her, as she stood in the lantern light, waiting for him.

  He stopped just in front of her, peering down at her, a smile splitting his face. Lord but he was having trouble keeping his feelings to himself. Billy’s words were banging around in his skull: “…you’ll never know how she feels about you unless you tell her how you feel about her first.” Wise words from a bothersome man—whom he loved like a brother. He opened his mouth to speak what his heart was roaring, but something made him stop. Maybe it was the way she was looking down at her feet, worrying her lip.

  Those ugly thoughts arose again: “She’s nervous because ye’re a lummox. She probably thinks ye’ll crush her if ye trip.”

  “Shall we go?” she asked softly, finally looking up into his face. Without a word, he gave a slight bow, and indicated she should precede him—since his gait would swallow hers easily.

  “It really is a nice night,” she murmured, breaking the tense silence he could only blame on himself. He should be all charm and gentlemanliness—where
had all his intentions gone? He was floundering.

  “Aye, verra nice. Reminds me of home; on nights like this we’d sit outside, under the starry sky and sing songs as my da fiddled.”

  A small gasp made him turn to look at her. She was grinning. His heart tripped.

  “My grandfather played a mean fiddle!” she exclaimed, then laughed. “I can remember him sitting in the family room, fiddling like a madman, tapping his toes, and making it seem like the whole world had faded to just him and I.” A sorrow wrapped him in its black lace as a sadness filled her tone.

  “Ye loved him greatly, aye?”

  Still walking along the boardwalk, she stumbled, and he reached out to catch her, enveloping her in his arms, as he’d longed to do. She was warm, fragrant, and perfectly fitted to him. As though she were made just for him.

  God, if it be yer will, let it be so…

  Realizing his mistake in holding her, he stiffened, gently helping her back to standing before taking a small step backward. Her face was as pink as her dress.

  “Sss-sorry. So clumsy of me—it’s just that, when I think about my grandfather, I can’t help but remember what he said…what he wished for me…” Her voice slowly died to silence, but she continued their walk toward the hotel restaurant.

  Seamus could sense there was more to it, but he also sensed her desire to keep it to herself. And so, he’d let her.

  “Tis nay trouble tae help a lovely lady,” he remarked, watching her eyes dart away from his face. Did she not know how lovely she was? How cherished? Of course, she didn’t know. He hadn’t told her.

  Before he could blink, they arrived at the hotel—the restaurant was just inside. He’d reserved a seat in a private corner, away from other conversations and curious gazes. He knew what they would look like—the giant and the butterfly—and so to save him from their stares, he picked a table where he could focus on her.

  The waiter escorted them to their table, provided menus, and left to fetch them water.

  Thankfully, Joy had little trouble choosing what she wanted to eat; baked chicken and green beans, which gave him little time to hide behind the menu like a scared little boy. He ordered the lamb and mint jelly, and the waiter disappeared, leaving them alone, in their private little corner, to make intelligent conversation.

  “So,” he began, “tell me about San Francisco. I’d love tae hear more about nursin’ school.”

  He knew he’d said the right thing because her eyes lit up and she began talking, and he never felt more alive than in that moment with her. When their food came, they ate while she continued talking about school, meeting Mollie, and finally her decision to move to Dry Bayou for the position at the clinic.

  “Goodness! If I hadn’t been here, I’d say it were impossible to talk so much and still eat every bite of my food,” she said, then giggled. Suddenly, she gasped. “I am such a terrible person—I didn’t even ask you about your life in Scotland.”

  He chuckled, enjoying her unguardedness. “Think nothin’ of it, lass. It was a pleasure tae hear ye speak with such passion about somethin’ ye love.”

  She tossed her napkin onto the table and pouted—which made his heart kick his ribs. “No. I mean it. It isn’t fair that I spent so much time talking about myself.”

  Seamus opened his mouth to remind her that he didn’t mind, but she narrowed her eyes at him. “Let me make it up to you, please. How about a walk in the gardens? Aimee told me that the hotel garden is just spectacular. We can take a walk and you can spend the whole time talking about yourself.”

  He’d give his left arm for a walk with Joy, but he couldn’t fathom talking about himself for longer than five minutes. He needed much more time with Joy than that.

  “I insist! We’ll walk, you’ll talk.” She pushed back her chair and stood there, staring at him, a determined set to her face. Heavens but he liked her like that.

  Feigning a sigh, he stood, but rather than letting her walk ahead of him, he held his breath, held out his hand, and waited for her to take it.

  Would she take it?

  She stared down at his hand; large callouses, long, blunt fingers—a shepherd’s hand.

  He nearly crowed when she tentatively slipped her hand into his.

  He left some paper money on the table for the meal and lead them through the door, near their table, that opened into the side garden. It wasn’t as well-lit as the rest of the garden would be, but he didn’t need any light to feel her hand in his. To feel how right it was.

  Joy shivered. He really was a dolt! Of course, she’d shiver! It was becoming chilly and he hadn’t thought about that when he saw her standing on the boardwalk without a shawl.

  Quickly, he doffed his own coat, which was a thick woolen thing he only ever wore to church on Christmas and placed it over her shoulders. She stiffened but softly said, “Thank you. I hadn’t thought about how chilly it would be when I insisted we come out here.” He’d let go of her hand to give her his coat, but he couldn’t dwell on how bereft he was, not having her hand in his. That connection he yearned for.

  “Tis my pleasure tae provide warmth for ye, lass.” The words came out coarse, deep, and she stared up at him, her eyes large and glittering in the light from the scattered lamps along the path. They hadn’t gone that far from the door, but already he was lost in the garden. Lost to Joy. Forever.

  “Joy…I…” he said, choking on the words he really wanted to say.

  She took a tiny step closer, bringing her warm and heady scent with her.

  “What is it, Seamus?”

  His blood roared in his ears, his heart pounding, his chest growing tight, his body singing with her nearness. He was a man possessed by his need for this woman.

  He kissed her.

  Chapter Eight

  Surprisingly gentle. Hot. Breath-stealing. Shattering. His lips were firm against hers, shy yet eager. And Joy found herself wrapped up in the sensations of her first kiss. A kiss that tugged at her senses, enticing her closer, until her chest was pressed against him. A kiss that stole her reason. A kiss that robbed her of all sensation except from that single point where their lips connected…in a kiss that shouldn’t be happening.

  Finding her strength, she pushed away, breaking the kiss, and dragging in breaths to help cool the heat spreading through her.

  She should have slapped him, should have upbraided him about his inappropriate behavior, but what good would it do? She was just as guilty as he was; she’d enjoyed it…right up until she remembered she had no business kissing anyone.

  Drawing in, she straightened her shoulders and dared to meet his gaze. His face was a hard mask of something that resembled regret. He regretted their kiss?

  Well…good. Then it will never happen again.

  She ignored the pang in her chest and spoke, “That was a mistake that will not be repeated, Mr. MacAdams.” She sounded like her mother, just then. Regal, disapproving. She should have stopped talking, should have just turned and left him standing there to think on what happened, but her blasted mouth kept opening and closing, and words kept fumbling out. “I can see by the look on your face that you regret that kiss as much as I do. So, I can assume it will never happen again.”

  She didn’t know what she expected him to say—“Agreed, lass”—perhaps, but what she wasn’t expecting, was what he actually said…growled, actually.

  “Nay, lass.” His voice was a deep, gravelly baritone that made every hair on her neck stand on end. And every vein in her body dilate, allowing the blood to flow up into her neck, and out into her limbs. She was a living, breathing bonfire. “I canna agree. I dunna regret that kiss, and I dunna think ye do, either. I was there, with ye, kissin’ ye. I know how ye felt against me, meltin’ intae me. But, nay, I’ll no’ kiss ye again, at least no’ until ye ask me tae.”

  He stepped closer, until her chin brushed against his broad chest. She could feel his heart beat, galloping, pulsing, and it matched the pace of her own.

  “And ye
will ask me tae, lass.” If it were possible, she could hear his voice drop, right into her chest, making her body tighten. Despite the heat that pulsed from him, and the weight of his coat around her shoulders, she shuddered again. Her breath catching on her own tremors.

  Flustered and a bit overwhelmed by his closeness…and by his words, Joy allowed the flurry of frustrated emotions to fly from her mouth.

  “It doesn’t matter—none of this matters! So what if I enjoyed the kiss; it was my first kiss. But it cannot happen again. I have too much to do to allow someone like you to cloud my judgement. To drag me away from what I want to do with my life. I cannot let you steal my happiness with a few kisses—great kisses, mind you, but still just kisses. That isn’t me. I want more from this life than—whatever this is.” She flung her arm between them, indicating them both. She was even more breathless by the time she was done with her tirade. But she stopped breathing at the look of pain hardening his face, turning his brilliant hazel eyes into dim pools of muddy water. Her own face fell into a grimace. What had she done?

  “Someone like me, lass? What do ye mean? Someone who is too dirty and too rough tae touch ye? Someone who is too unrefined? Someone who is too big and too fearsome? Perhaps ye mean someone who is so taken with ye he canna think straight. Or someone who tripped over his own feet tae get tae ye, tae see ye. Tae just be with ye.” His whole body seemed to tremble, like a tree shuddering in the wind.

  Numb. Shocked and yet numb. “I didn’t mean… I didn’t think—that’s not what I meant!” she sputtered.

  He raised a hand, interrupting her with a grim pinch of his lips. “Nay worries, lass. I won’t subject ye tae someone like me any longer this evenin’.”

  Seamus turned and walked into a dark passageway between two towering hedgerows, disappearing into the depths of the garden.

  Chilled to the bone, Joy snuggled into the warmth of Seamus’s coat, still cradling her shoulders…as they slumped in despair.