napkin from Mr. Ellison. I might have brushed it off with my fingers.” She slid her fingertips across the soft flesh. “I could have licked it off.” Her tongue flicked out.
“That is sufficient demonstration,” Linus said, feeling the need to stand and look out toward the cool waters of the cove. “I apologize for doubting you.”
She rose as well. “Apology accepted, for the doubt and for the kiss. We should report to the spa, but I have one stop to make first.”
“Another cinnamon bun?” he asked, trying not to look eager at the thought.
“No, Mrs. Kirby’s leasing agency. I want to see about another house for you.”
~~~
It was likely the least important thing in that moment. He would have patients waiting at the spa. Eva might need her help. There were French agents plaguing the village! But Abigail had to do something immediately, or she’d likely kiss him again.
And why? What was wrong with her? After seeing the tragedy of her parents’ marriage, she’d never thought to wed. Of the men with whom she’d associated closely over the years, the only two who weren’t despots were Doctor Chance and Mr. Carroll, and neither had been disposed to look at her as a possible partner. Neither had particularly stirred her spirit either. She certainly hadn’t hoped for a kiss! Even Quillan St. Claire seemed all brash bravado, and she’d never dared to look deeper.
Linus Bennett was different. Those grey eyes could brim with compassion, and he truly listened to what others said. He was willing to admit when he didn’t know something and equally willing to learn from his mistakes. And he admired her painting and determination. But as a physician, he was used to ordering people about. Could she live with such a man?
Not that he’d asked her for a commitment. Indeed, as they walked through the village, he seemed determined to ignore the matter, head up and look on the distance. Perhaps it had been an aberration, brought on by the emotions of the birth.
“I believe Mr. Lawrence is signaling us,” he said.
She glanced around him. The jeweler was standing in the bow window of his shop, pointing down at a display of rings.
Wedding rings.
“You mistake him,” Abigail said, scooting around to put herself between Linus and the shop. “He seems to be dusting his wares.”
He frowned. “And Miss Pierce the elder?”
Abigail looked toward the linens and trimmings shop, where the older sister had come out, lace draped along her arm like a wedding veil.
“Is airing her goods,” Abigail said with a furious shake of her head at the lady, who pouted. “I imagine some get quite musty on the voyage from Ireland.”
He did not look convinced as she hurried him up the street to Mrs. Kirby’s home.
The lady was in residence and happy to discuss the matter with them on her wide front porch overlooking the cove. She seated them on the wicker chairs there and had her housekeeper bring out lemonade. Abigail explained the situation, then drank deeply. She certainly didn’t want any more sugar on her lips.
Just another kiss.
“I know the perfect house,” Mrs. Kirby said, as if she hadn’t noticed the color climbing in Abigail’s cheeks or perhaps attributed it to the exertions of their walk. “I showed it to Mrs. Howland the other week. A fine four bedroom with a study off the entrance, perfect for an examining room.”
Abigail swallowed the tart liquid. “Why didn’t the Howlands take it?”
“Mrs. Howland preferred to be away from High Street,” Mrs. Kirby said, leaning back in the wicker chair. “But I would think that location a benefit for a doctor. Easy access for his patients. And it’s just up the street from Shell Cottage, where they used to see their physician.”
So Abigail would be close to Jess. No, no! This house wasn’t for her. It was for Linus and Ethan. She would not be living in it.
“I can show it to you now, if you’d like,” Mrs. Kirby offered, glancing between them.
Linus started to shake his head, but all at once, Abigail wasn’t willing to share him with the spa again so soon.
“That would be delightful,” she told the leasing agent.
Mrs. Kirby went to fetch the key.
“I have appointments this afternoon,” he reminded her, large hands cradling the glass.
“None that cannot wait,” Abigail said. “At least look at the house to see if it’s something you might want to pursue.”
He regarded her a moment, and Abigail dropped her gaze. Silly, really. It wasn’t as if he could