The Artist's Healer - Regina Scott Page 0,42

young Mr. Lawrence.

“Thank you for the assistance,” Linus told him. “We were just returning to the spa. Will you join us?”

Hornswag shuddered, an earthquake on a mountain. “Not me. Too many fancy sorts there. I generally cater to the men who work with their hands. No offense meant, sir. I’ll just keep an eye on the place until you’re ready to leave.”

Linus thanked him again, then turned with Abigail for the spa.

“Don’t feel foolish for mistaking him,” she said as if she could read Linus’s face so well. “You’re still learning everyone in the village. And he is rather large.”

Could she read his mind as well? “I’m not used to requiring protection.”

“It’s as much for Ethan as it is for you,” she reminded him. “And I admit to sleeping easier knowing you’re safe.” As if she heard the same tender concern he did, she hurried on. “We have needed a physician for some time. I don’t intend to hand him over to the French.”

And he had needed someone who cared.

Impossible to doubt it, though he hadn’t been willing to admit it even to himself until now. But once he had admitted it, the thought refused to leave him. It hovered over him as he saw to his patients then updated their case files that afternoon.

Growing up, he’d been one of the few lads among the families following the drum. He had relied on the company of his mother and father until they’d both passed. Small wonder he’d found it hard to make friends at Edinburgh. Not that he’d had much time for such things with his studies. He would never have met Catriona if not for an invitation from a professor to join him at a friend’s house for dinner.

Her father had been a wealthy banker who donated to the school. The house, the food, had impressed Linus. It had been soup and bread most nights for him. One look at Cat near the head of the table, and he hadn’t been able to look away. He’d never understood why she’d sought him out for further acquaintance among her dozens of admirers. He had not fit into her set of horse-mad, sporting enthusiasts. But he’d convinced himself he loved her and that she returned his love. He was no longer sure of either.

Yet was what he began to feel for Abigail any different? She too was a beautiful woman with a propensity for finding trouble. Cat had generally made her own trouble by taking risks in the name of fun. Abigail risked all for what she believed in—a position for her friend, the safety of her village. It was hard to find fault with such zeal.

But that didn’t mean he had to kiss her, even if he had to argue himself out of kissing her again.

One kiss—a moment’s aberration brought on by the heat of the moment. Two—or three or four—kisses, a statement he was not prepared to make.

But his new neighbors thought otherwise.

“I am very thankful for the care you’ve shown Abigail,” Eva said as she brought the teacart to the empty examining room that afternoon so he could have a cup. “She is an amazing woman. Don’t you agree?”

He glanced out the open door to where Abigail was speaking with Mrs. Rand before noting something in his appointment book. “Indeed I do.”

“Excellent,” she said with a smile. “I hope to hear good news soon.”

Jack Hornswag voiced his opinion as he escorted Linus down to the Archers. Abigail had gone ahead while Linus finished locking up the spa.

“Fine woman, Miss Abby,” he said, falling into step beside Linus and dwarfing him in the process. “A lady to be respected and admired.”

Linus could only nod agreement. If he spoke, he might betray too much.

“I was very glad to see neither her nor her brother took after their father,” Hornswag continued. “Tragic case, that.”

Linus frowned. “Was he ill long?”

Hornswag snorted. “I wouldn’t call illness what a man brings on himself. Mean as the distance is long, that one. Made a mess of my public room more than once. Rumor was he made a mess of his home as well. Never did know what his sweet wife saw in him. No one missed him.”

Linus could not imagine Abigail growing up with a tyrant of a father, nor her gentle mother marrying such a fellow. Had she learned her determination by standing up to the man?

Her mother seemed to have borrowed some of that determination, for she took his arm and drew Linus