The Hope of Love - Meara Platt Page 0,5

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.

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