Page 4 of If The Fates Allow
“Where are you going?” Margaret hissed, appalled over her abrupt departure while a guest was present. “Cease your running this instant.”
“I’m sorry.” Willa waved a hand over her shoulder. “But if this Noah Anderson is to be my doctor, I suppose I should introduce myself.”
Chapter 2
Willa was wrong.
She should have stayed in the foyer.
Or, at the very least, she should have entered the library quietly instead of exploding into the room like a stampeding elephant.
When she came in, Dr. Anderson’s back was to her, and only his broad shoulders and height registered at first. He was enormous and browsing the floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, which suddenly looked much smaller with him in front of them.
“Dr. Anderson?”
Speaking his name caused her new savior to turn around, and once he did, Willa was struck mute.
Silenced by a handsome face.
And not merely handsome. No, that word was simply too lackluster to describe the man before her. Standing there with her eyes wide, and mouth gaping open, she decided that calling him handsome showed a complete lack of imagination, and, if there was one thing for certain, Wilhelmina Fairweather had imagination in spades.
Yet, at this very moment, it was failing her.
A poet was needed. Yes, that was it. A grand master of the craft who could properly express how the good doctor’s crystal blue eyes and luscious full lips melded so seamlessly with his chiseled features and tan skin. And how his midnight black hair and shadow of a beard only added to the allure.
She was well aware she was rudely staring, having never glimpsed such a man in all her life, but she could not stop herself. It was as if an exotic fairy tale creature had fled the pages of her books and come to visit Haven House, daring to beguile them with its beauty.
And then he went and did the most horrendous thing possible, catapulting the situation from mildly uncomfortable to dire in under a second.
Dr. Noah Anderson smiled.
Good heavens.
Could a heart stop from witnessing a mere presentation of teeth? Willa certainly never thought it possible, but here she was, lightheaded and unable to focus.
“Wilhelmina Fairweather?”
Her eyes went even wider. The way he said her name had goosebumps breaking out across her skin. She could almost taste the rich timbre in his voice, and it reminded her of the time she drank a glass of her father’s whiskey on a cold winter’s night. The amber liquid had slid down her throat with a heated caress, warming her insides as it made its way to her belly.
A dark eyebrow arched when she remained silent. “You are Ms. Wilhelmina Fairweather, are you not?”
The friendly tone there a moment ago now held a hint of annoyance, sparking her own temper. How dare he come here with a face like that and presume she could carry on a civil conversation.
“Ms. Fairweather,” he drawled, propping one of his muscled shoulders on a bookcase. “Are you alright?”
She nodded, although perhaps a little too enthusiastically. “Yes.”
A lie, of course, but there was no other choice. It was the best she could do without looking like a complete fool, and for him to expect her to articulate any piece of information about herself since he turned around was a ludicrous assumption on his part.
“Are you sure?”
“I’m fine.” The farthest thing from fine, Willa fanned herself, attempting to cool the growing rush of heat that bordered on the obscene. “Thank you for inquiring.”
“So, you are Wilhelmina?”
He straightened to step closer, and she instinctively retreated until her back met the wall, knocking a framed picture askew.
“Ye-yes,” she croaked, wondering how he could have such a well-defined jawline. Surely, having such a feature and flaunting it so brazenly must be illegal. “I am Wilhelmina Fairweather.”
