The Hope of Love Page 2

  “Yes, I suppose you’re right.” He felt too good. She would make a fool of herself if she clung to him any longer, inhaling his subtle bay-spice scent. She eased away. “We’ve been friends for a long time. Very well…Angus.”

  There was no point in arguing since he had that stubborn, Scottish look about him and would continue to insist until he got his way. What harm could there be? After all, they were more than mere acquaintances. The doctor often stopped by her shop to ask for one book or another, for he was an avid reader.

  Calling him Angus was a harmless request, really.

  Of course, they would maintain formality when others were present, just as she would with Poppy, Olivia, and Penelope. “Angus,” she repeated softly.

  “That sounded verra nice coming from you…Felicity, my bonnie lass.”

  Oh, the husky smoothness of his voice!

  She cleared her throat. “As I mentioned, I just received a delivery from London but haven’t opened it yet. I’ll do it now. Won’t take me a moment.” She skittered around her desk to retrieve her knife used to cut open the boxes.

  She happened to glance out the window.

  The snow was falling harder now. She could hear the wind whistle down the street and through the small gap between the bottom of her bookshop door and the floorboards. “Looks like a fairly nasty storm is about to descend upon us.”

  He frowned. “Are you well stocked with provisions? It may take a day or two for us to dig out of this one. The earl may have to send his driver with a sleigh to fetch you for the party if it doesn’t clear out by the end of the week.”

  “Oh, that would be fun. I’d love a sleigh ride.” Especially if this man were her companion. It would be quite romantic tucked under a blanket while the moon shone down on them and the bells on the reins jingled in time to the horse’s trot.

  She was spinning dreams again.

  The doctor had no romantic interest in her.

  “I am all prepared to last out the storm…Angus. No need to worry about me. I have tea, biscuits, and plenty of books to tide me over until the snow ends. I even have the fabled Book of Love.”

  His eyes rounded in surprise. “So, you’re next?”

  She laughed. “No, Poppy, Olivia, and Penelope merely loaned it to me, insisting that I read it. They practically shoved it at me. I couldn’t refuse. But it’s meant for Poppy’s sister next. Poppy will hold it in safekeeping until Violet is ready for her come-out in a couple of years.”

  “But meanwhile, you have it.”

  “Well, yes. But only on loan. My point is, I have everything I need for this upcoming storm. I’ll be quite cozy.” By the time she returned to the doctor’s side, he had lifted the heavy box onto the table standing in the far corner of the shop where she and the ladies held their book club meetings.

  “Let me do that for you.” He held out his hand for the knife.

  “Thank you.” She placed it in his palm and stifled a yawn.

  He grinned at her. “Am I that boring?”

  “No! Never. Oh, please forgive me! I don’t know why the day seems to be dragging endlessly. In truth, I feel as though I’ve been slogging through this entire week. Perhaps it’s the impending snow.”

  “Or the thought of the holidays alone,” he remarked. “It hits me sometimes, too. I miss seeing my brother.” He cast her a wry smile. “But feel no such remorse for the rest of my family.”

  “You’re fortunate. I don’t know who my family is. Perhaps I’m better off not knowing, but I won’t pretend it does not hurt.” She felt herself about to cry again, but fought off her bout of weepiness. “It has hit me hard this year. I don’t know why, especially since I’ll have friends around me for the holidays. I was busy thinking about what to wear for the Christmas party when you walked in.”

  He ran his thumb lightly across her cheek to wipe away a teardrop. “Ah, that’s what had you sniffling and nibbling your lip.”

  She nodded. “If the town is snowed in tomorrow, I’ll use the quiet time to do a bit of sewing. I have a lovely green silk that I haven’t worn in years. It will need a little fancy stitch work to make it look as good as new.”

  “You’d look beautiful even if you wore burlap.” He broke into one of his rare smiles, one that showed off his dimples. Yes, this man was perfect. Handsome, kind, intelligent.

  She felt her heart flutter yet again. Why couldn’t he be hers?

  Obviously, he did not return the sentiment. Angus Carmichael had never taken particular notice of her or felt anything for her in that way. But as he turned to slice open the box, she suddenly felt a change in the air and her skin began to tingle.

  No, it was quite foolish of her to believe he meant anything more by his statement than a polite comment. “Well, if I don’t finish my gown, I may have no choice but to wear that.”

  He said nothing as he began to dig through the box, carefully setting aside each book he pulled out until he got to the bottom. “Blast, I don’t see it.” But he took a moment to study the ones he’d lifted out. “Mrs. Radcliffe’s books seem to be quite popular.”

  Felicity blushed. “The ladies enjoy her stories.”

  “And what about you? Do you read them as well?”

  She tipped her chin up proudly. “I do.”

  His smile was surprisingly tender. “You are a romantic, Felicity.”

  “Is there something wrong with that?” Dear heaven, the man should smile more often.

  He set aside the last of the books and turned fully to face her. Up close, he loomed quite large. He was taller than she’d realized and powerfully built. “Not at all. It’s a softer side of you that you rarely show to others.”

  Had he not noticed this before? Did she come across as cold and forbidding? Perhaps she did, for she’d never dared open up to others. “It isn’t a sentiment I can afford to indulge in.”

  “Because you’ve been alone all your life?”

  She nodded. “I have to look out for myself, for no one else will.” She started to turn away, but he held her back gently.

  “What makes you think others aren’t watching out for you? You have friends in Wellesford. You can turn to us if you ever need help.”

  Us?

  Had he meant to include himself?

  “Thank you, Doctor…Angus…um, Doctor. But you ought to be getting home before you’re stranded here with me.” Oh, that didn’t come out quite as she meant it. In truth, it sounded rather tempting to be stuck in the bookshop with this handsome man overnight. They’d be forced to keep each other warm. They could huddle under the blankets while the storm raged outside.

  Perhaps, he would take her in his arms again.

  “Yes, it does seem to be coming down harder now. Well, tuck yourself in and be careful. I’ll look in on you once the storm eases.” He turned his collar up about his ears, and with a mumbled farewell, hastened out the door.

  She emitted a groan as the bell above the door tinkled to mark his departure.

  What was wrong with her? Had he noticed her suddenly turning doe-eyed over him? She had suggested he leave, but hadn’t meant for him to race to the door. Perhaps her gaze had been more love-struck than merely doe-eyed. Is this why he’d run off, merely using the storm as an excuse to get away from her before she made a fool of herself? Was he already regretting their new-found familiarity, one that he’d encouraged? “Angus. How nice to see you, Angus. Won’t you kiss me, Angus?”

  Oops!

  She hadn’t meant to let that slip out, nor should she have been thinking it.

  But she’d often wondered about kissing him, wished for it. Why did it feel so important now?

  And why him? All the other women were in love with the vicar. But Dr. Carmichael was the handsomer man, she’d always thought so. His dark hair was lightly sprinkled with gray at the temples. Those dark, intelligent eyes of his were glorious. He was big and muscled.

  His hands were exquisite.

  His smile could make her heart melt.

&n
bsp; She dared not contemplate what his kiss would do to her.

  “Oh, dear.” Her heart was fluttering again, and she knew she would not respond to his kisses in any respectable way.

  Had the room suddenly grown warm? Or was it these nonsensical dreams of love she was spinning again? The doctor was never going to kiss her or spend the night with her unless she was ill and on the verge of death.

  Even then, it would only be in his medical capacity.

  She marched to her wardrobe and took out the green silk gown she’d rashly and unthinkingly purchased on her twenty-seventh birthday. It was a frivolous expenditure, for she’d never had a proper place to wear it until now.

  She wasn’t going to pass up the opportunity. “Doctor, prepare yourself. I am going to make your jaw drop.”

  Chapter Two

  Angus Carmichael stepped out of Felicity’s bookshop and took a deep breath to fill his lungs with cold air. After holding it in as long as he could, he allowed his breath to slowly release. What was wrong with him? If he’d stayed a moment longer, he would have kissed Felicity.

  There was something different about her lately. Or was he suddenly changing, suddenly wanting more out of life? Wanting Felicity, if he wished to be honest about it…but he hadn’t been honest with himself for years.

  “It’s you who’s changing,” Angus muttered, chiding himself as he strode toward the Golden Hart tavern. His house was just around the corner from the tavern. He increased his pace, walking faster, for the wind was bitter cold and should have been ripping through his bones.

  But he was still too hot and bothered over Felicity to feel the wind or the wet snow that now fell atop his head.

  Nothing was going to relieve the heat building up inside of him except to take her in his arms and crush his lips to hers.

  He’d left the bookshop in a hurry, blaming his hasty departure on the impending storm. But it was these wayward feelings that had sent him running out the door.

  Felicity had been nibbling her lower lip, nipping at it so that it was a tempting, rosy pink.

  She had the prettiest lips, perfect for kissing.

  Lord help him, he wanted to do much more than merely taste her lips. Nothing polite in his intentions. And if she were willing? Lord help them both, for he would have allowed the rest of whatever was meant to happen between them to naturally take its course.

  They were consenting adults.

  He could be discreet.

  No one would ever catch them stealing a night of pleasure. But if they were caught, he’d do the honorable thing and marry her.

  Bah! The honorable thing was to marry her before he stole a night of pleasure. He loved Felicity. He’d loved her from the moment he first set eyes on her. He wasn’t going to steal anything from her.

  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 eye
s 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.