Page 12 of Caroline Saves the Blacksmith
William shook his head in dismay, stroking his beard while he tried to think. “You cannot be here!”
Mrs. Brown ignored him, walking around the room to light more candles before setting down her candleholder and taking up the fire poker to bank the fire. William watched, helpless, while savoring the cheeriness that she brought with her.
“Dr. Hadley impressed upon me the importance of your health to our little community, and assured me that no one would learn of my presence. Do you know that the lock on your back door is broken? It does not catch properly.”
She came forward to stand before him. William scowled. “What on earth are you wearing?”
He could hear his tone was barking, but he could not help it. Shock at her proximity, the woman who had been disturbing his mind since their meeting the month before, warred with the pain in his leg and the impulse to maintain the privacy of his home. She was not just attractive; she was a force to be reckoned with as a single woman who had launched a successful shop in an unfamiliar town and already made her mark. His fellow proprietors were speaking of her incessantly, which made it all the more difficult to push her out of his thoughts. Having her in such close proximity was dangerous to his state of emotionless equilibrium.
Mrs. Brown looked down at her cloak. “It is a winter cloak.”
“It is decidedly not! There is no possibility that cloak keeps you warm in the winter. Why does it have such wide sleeves? There is nothing to prevent the chill!”
Mrs. Brown wrinkled her nose, an expression of irritation dancing across her features. “It is beautiful and I love it! I made it from the remnants of a coat my grandmother owned … After she died.”
The last was said with a sad intonation, and William experienced a gouging guilt. That was the problem with Mrs. Brown. She made him feel things. Heaving an exasperated breath, he relented. “I apologize. Show it to me.”
The modiste brightened up, mercurial in her shift of mood. “I made it from green velvet and cut up my grandmother’s coat to create this fur trimming.” She turned the lapel to show him the pale pelt that framed the velvet.
“And what of the sleeves?” The utterly impractical sleeves that could not possibly assist with the retention of heat on a cold winter night?
Mrs. Brown held up one of her arms to display the deep fall of the sleeve. “I saw something like it in a woodcutting of a woman in a medieval gown. It appealed to my romantic side.”
“Let me see it, then.”
She twirled, and despite how odd and useless the garment was, William had to admit she looked ravishing in the dark green velvet and pale fur with the wide hood framing her face.
Mrs. Brown was a personification of Christmas, and when she came to a stop, his eyes once more came to rest on her lovely mouth that had haunted his thoughts these past weeks. Despite his discomfort, he briefly imagined standing up to sweep her into his arms and plant a kiss on those wide, pink lips.
Mrs. Brown frowned, apparently noticing something odd about his expression. “Mr. Jackson, I must insist you lie back down and rest as the doctor instructed.”
Soughing, he shifted and settled back against the settee’s arm, stretching out his legs once more. He would never state it aloud, but it was gratifying to raise his leg, which diminished the persistent throbbing.
“Your cloak is lovely,” he admitted roughly. “But, Mrs. Brown, I need your assurance that you would not venture out into a serious cold snap with such a garment. The cold would find no difficulty in chilling you to the bone with such gaping cuffs.”
Mrs. Brown snorted a low laugh. “I work all the time, and then race home to my rooms. There is no possibility of my freezing out in the cold.”
“Nevertheless, Mrs. Brown—”
“If we are to spend Christmas together, perhaps it would be easier to call me Caroline?”
William’s breath stopped in his lungs for the span of a second before he rebuked himself to take air.
Caroline.
It was wondrously fitting for such an exquisite and accomplished woman.
After several seconds of silence, he realized Mrs. Br—Caroline was gazing at him expectantly.
“You may call me William.”
This was going to be a very long night. Caroline’s presence heated his blood and made him desire her nearness. He wondered what it might feel like to hold her soft body in his arms. What she might smell of.
That thought was torturous!
Now all he could think of was to pull her down onto the settee with him so he might bury his face in her pretty flaxen hair to discover her unique scent.
William exhaled deeply in agitation.
