The Hope of Love - Meara Platt Page 0,18
side, sat on the bed beside her, and carefully lifted her into a sitting position. “I’ll prop more pillows behind you to make you more comfortable when I’m done.”
He ran his fingers lightly through her wavy locks. Her hair felt soft as silk. “Let me know if I hurt you.” He was careful not to brush too near the lump on her brow. Thankfully, it hadn’t grown bigger, but he needed to apply more ice to the area. He’d do so once he finished with her hair.
Uncertain what to do next, he swept the lush mane all to one side, leaving it long and loose so that it fell over her shoulder and curled around her breast.
Well, that wasn’t going to work. Every man’s eyes would be drawn there immediately. His were. He couldn’t stop ogling her. “Bollocks,” he muttered, brushing back the glorious mane so that her rich, lustrous curls cascaded over her pillow instead. He tied it all back with the ribbon.
She regarded him silently all the while, the hint of a smile on her face.
Face of an angel.
She looked incredibly beautiful.
It didn’t matter that she had a broken arm or had a reddish-purple lump on her forehead that looked like the eye of a cyclops. Nor did it matter that she had a swollen ankle resting upraised under the covers.
She was still the prettiest woman he’d ever set eyes upon.
Once he’d made her suitably comfortable, he rose to fetch her a cup of tea and a plate of dry biscuits to nibble on until her broth arrived. He had just started reading to her from Mrs. Radcliffe’s novel, The Mysteries of Udolpho, when the bell above the bookshop door tinkled. “Ah, that must be our food.”
He set the book aside and strode into the shop. “Come into the kitchen, lads,” he called to the Cummings boys as they tromped in. “Wait, what’s all this?”
The boys were carrying pots he expected contained broth for Felicity and stew for him and Adam. The aroma was divine. Behind the boys came Mr. Cummings with a jug of lemonade and a basket filled with bread and apple tarts. Lord, even better.
“Mornin’ Dr. Carmichael. The missus sends her regards to ye and Miss Billings. Vicar said she took a very bad tumble. Ye let us know what she needs, and we’ll send it right over.”
“Thank you, Mr. Cummings.”
The boys looked up at him. “Can we pop our heads in?”
Angus nodded. “But don’t get too close. She hurts everywhere.”
“Good mornin’, Miss Billings,” the older boy said as Angus led them in. He cautioned them to remain beside the door.
“Harry, how nice to see you.” She cast him a shimmering smile. “Thank you for bringing over the food.”
“I helped, too,” the youngest, Sydney, said. “Caw, that’s a big lump on yer head. It’s bigger than my fist.”
She laughed. “Yes, quite unsightly.”
“Mum said to tell ye that we’ll bring over whatever ye want, and Da’s not to take any payment for it or she’ll box his ears. She says to thank ye for teaching me and Sydney to read and write. We’re going to be important men one day, she says. Because ye made us smart.”
Little Sydney nodded earnestly. “Harry’s very smart. He counts better than Da does.”
“I’m very proud of both of you. I wish you a very happy Christmas.” She cast them another beaming smile.
“Off you go, lads,” Angus said, noticing the pain Felicity was hiding behind her smile. He thanked Mr. Cummings and asked him to convey his gratitude to his wife.
“I will, Dr. Carmichael. Just pop over if ye need anything else.”
Felicity’s smile faded as the tavern keeper and his boys left. “Christmas eve is the day after tomorrow. I’ll never be better in time for Christmas at Sherbourne Manor, will I?”
“No.” He leaned over and caressed her cheek. “I won’t go either. I’ll stay right here with you. Perhaps the Sherbournes will send over a goose for us. Look on the bright side, we’ll get our drumsticks and won’t have to fight anyone for them.”
“Oh, don’t make me laugh. It hurts.” But her smile was genuine, and the lovely sparkle had returned to her eyes.
Angus had just finished getting some broth in her when the bell above the door tinkled again. Felicity stared at him. “Who could it be?”
He shrugged. “A customer, perhaps. I’ll attend to them.”
She arched an eyebrow. “A doctor turned bookseller. Is there no end to your talent?”
He grinned. “I’m a marvel. Surely, you must realize this