10
The howling of the wind woke Felicity. And the frigidness of the air.
She burrowed under the heavy layer of blankets covering her, not wanting to face the coldness. For a moment, she hovered between waking and sleeping, but at the clank of the stove door in the kitchen, she sat up.
Darkness permeated the room. Was it nearing dawn?
She gathered up the mound of blankets and draped them around her. Then she perched on the edge of her bed and searched for her bedroom slippers. She stuffed her feet in, the chill already turning her toes to ice.
She dragged herself and the covers up, threw open her door, and startled at the sight of a dark outline in front of the stove. The embers inside illuminated a man’s body. Philip’s.
“Good morning.” His voice rumbled low.
The sound of it did strange things to her insides, fanning heat and sending warmth to her limbs and cheeks. Thankfully, it didn’t cause the same reaction she’d had to him last night when he’d grazed her hand, when she’d become almost incoherent in the midst of the sensations he’d awakened inside her.
“Good morning.” Her reply came out husky and embarrassed her even more.
“How did you sleep?” He added wood shavings and bark to the embers.
“I didn’t wake up once.”
“Good.” He used the poker to stir the embers so that the newest chips would catch fire.
“How about you? Did you get any sleep?”
“A night or two without sleep won’t hurt me.” Philip straightened and studied her. Though she couldn’t see his expression, she could feel him taking in her tousled hair, the hem of her nightgown showing beneath the blankets, her bare ankles, and the slippers.
She felt suddenly breathless and tugged the blankets around her more securely. “So you stayed up all night?”
“It went fast. I enjoyed reading to Mr. Keller.”
“He’s a sweet man.” Philip sitting beside Mr. Keller’s bed all night was one of the kindest and noblest things she’d ever known a man to do. Not many men—or women—would be willing to make such a sacrifice for a stranger.
The wind took that moment to rattle the windowpanes as if it intended to shake them loose altogether. A whistle of wind also blew through the stovepipe, the cold air almost dousing the flames.
Philip grabbed another handful of fuel and began to layer the pieces carefully over the fire. He had on his coat—likely to ward off the chill—but underneath, his shirt was untucked in the front, some of the top buttons undone, and one of his suspenders dangled by his trousers.
The glow of the kindling revealed the stubble on his jaw, darker and thicker than yesterday. His hair fell forward, practically hanging in his eyes. And his lips were set in a stubborn line, as if he were daring the wind to defy his efforts to keep the fire going.
He looked so good she just wanted to stand there all day and stare at him. Maybe she would . . .
He smirked at her over his shoulder, clearly sensing her appraisal or fascination or both.
Ugh. She gave herself a mental shake. She had to keep her feelings under control. She was a strong woman and didn’t need a man in her life. She had to keep reminding herself of that.
Besides, he had to be tired and deserved to rest, not do all the chores—not after being up all night. She started toward him. “Here. Let me take care of starting the fire. You go lie down and sleep.”
He didn’t budge from where he was layering the sticks. “Sounds like you’re concerned about me.”
“No more or less concerned than I would be with any other guest.” She reached his side and then picked up a larger limb from the wood box.
“Admit you’re worried about me taxing myself.”
She added her log to the now crackling flames and stood beside him, basking in the warmth of the growing fire.
He bumped her arm with his playfully. “Go ahead.”
“Fine. You’ve been so decent and kind that I don’t want you to feel obligated to do any more than you already have.” In the darkness of predawn in the cozy glow of the stove, it was all too easy to spill the truth.
He stood silently, as if her sincerity had taken him off guard. “I don’t feel obligated in the least, Felicity. I’m honestly quite relieved I’m here to assist you.” His words held sincerity too.
She liked his humor, his wit, and his playfulness. But she liked when he was serious too, like now. She could sense his shift and wanted to hang on to the moment for as long as possible. How could she do that except by letting down her guard and being serious in return? “I admit I’m relieved you’re here too. I appreciate your help.”
He focused on the flames. “I wish there was a way that we could hire a nurse to help the Kellers.”
“A nurse?”
“Or at least someone who can provide care and perhaps even has ideas for how to make the quality of his life better.”
Her mind began to whirl at the possibilities. It really was a good idea and would benefit the Kellers. But would her sisters allow her to spend their money on such an endeavor? And even if they did, would she be able to find a nurse who would be willing to move to Fairplay and live at the boardinghouse?
“While I’m in Denver,” he said quietly, as though reading her mind, “I can make some inquiries.”
Yes, he was leaving. She didn’t need the reminder. And yet, she couldn’t fault him for bringing it up. He was only being kind to make such an offer. “Do you think we really could find someone?”
“I shall surely try.” He reached for another log and added it to the flames.
“Thank you, Philip.”
He straightened, then nudged her arm with his again. “If you continue calling me Philip, I might keep doing nice things for you.”
“If that’s all it takes to have you at my beck and call, then I’ll definitely agree to it.”
“You have me at your beck and call even if you do nothing at all.”
“That’s good to know.” Even though his tone hinted at playfulness, it also contained the same sincerity as before, and it melted her heart just a little bit more.
“In fact, I’m going out right now to check on the animals—”
“You can’t.”
“I’ve done so previously, and you found no fault with my work, did you?”
“I’m not questioning your ability. I’m insisting that you go to bed and let me handle the livestock.”
“No.” His tone turned hard and stubborn the same way it had last night when he’d so valiantly defended them from the pail on the porch.
“I’ve been doing it every day since Patience moved out. And I’ll continue long after you’re gone.”
“Hopefully Weston can ride over later today to check on you and help with the evening chores.” Philip rubbed his hands together in front of the flames.
Was this a purposeful name drop—similar to his mention of Denver—to again remind her of his imminent departure?
If so, it was working.
As Philip prepared to go outside, she twisted free a scarf from the peg near the kitchen door. As she extended it to him, he leaned down and waited, his slow smile giving her silent permission to wrap it around his neck for herself.