Felicity opened her mouth to respond but then stopped.
Weston waited, his eyes fairly pleading with Felicity to answer him and make the situation go away and be alright.
But after another moment, she lowered her head. “I’m sorry, Weston.”
What was she apologizing for? Was she telling Weston she was sorry that she couldn’t care about him? That things wouldn’t be able to work out between them?
Whatever it was, Weston didn’t like it. He shook his head, then spun and walked toward his horse, whose reins were hanging loose, as if hastily dismounted.
How much of their kissing had Weston witnessed as he’d come riding down the lane? No doubt he’d spotted them lying together in the backyard as he’d neared the house and stomped right over. How could he have missed the passion and the fervor?
For the briefest of moments, Philip couldn’t keep from gloating. But at the distress that was quickly filling Felicity’s face as she watched Weston walk off, a sliver of guilt pricked him. He shouldn’t be happy that Felicity was finally cutting things off with Weston—which was what she was doing, wasn’t it? He ought to be feeling some contrition for being the cause of their parting. If only he could manufacture remorse . . .
Felicity started after Weston, her damp skirt tangling in her legs as though attempting to trip her. Philip half hoped the tangling would keep her from going. Weston wouldn’t be able to resist her with her damp blouse plastered to her skin and her red hair hanging loose.
Even soggy and wet, Felicity had never looked more beautiful.
Philip wanted to stand up, race after her, pull her back into his arms, and kiss her again until she forgot all about Weston. When finished with that, he wanted to soothe all her problems, tell her everything would be alright, and that in the end he’d be with her. But the reality of the situation pinned him to the ground. He had no right to her. And he had no right to interfere in her relationship with Weston.
Philip finally pushed himself up to a sitting position, the weight of responsibility prodding him to rectify the situation. He ought to go after Weston and assure him Felicity would still learn to care for him if he remained patient. He’d make sure Weston knew Felicity wasn’t really his, that he’d made a mistake in kissing her and would never do it again. That whatever was happening between them was fleeting and coming to an end.
Weston represented permanence, safety, and stability. All the things Felicity needed. All the things Philip was not.
She trailed after the fellow, slipping and sliding in the snow. But Weston had already mounted and was jerking on the reins in his haste to get away. No doubt he was not only angry but embarrassed. Hopefully, once he’d had time to think about the situation, he’d realize he had no competition from any other man in the high country, not even Philip. And once Philip left, Felicity would realize it too.
As Weston trotted down the lane away from the house, Felicity stood rigidly watching him. He didn’t turn back around, and when he disappeared from sight, she hung her head and slowly walked toward the front of the house. A moment later, the door banged closed.
The door banged closed inside of Philip too. Weston hadn’t been the fool. No, Philip had been the fool. He’d let himself feel things for Felicity he had no business feeling.
He stood, brushing off the slush that clung to his trousers. He hadn’t meant to make a mess of things for Felicity. But that’s what he’d done by being with her.
Of course, he didn’t regret that he’d come to her farm that day of the ice storm and had been with her during the fuel shortage to help her survive. He shuddered at what might have happened if he hadn’t been there.
But it was time for him to go. As hard as it would be, he had to stop dallying. He had to leave before it became impossible to do so.
16
Felicity’s stomach churned. It had ever since Weston had ridden away. And it had only gotten worse when Philip had silently entered the house, ascended to his room, changed his clothing, and ridden away too.
Where had he gone? And why had he left without an explanation?
She glanced out the front window and down the lane, now almost completely melted under the warmth of the afternoon sunshine.
Her heart trembled at the thought that he was riding to town and making plans to leave. Or maybe he’d gone after Weston to try to keep him from spreading rumors about her indiscretion.
She turned away from the window and paced through the sitting room. In a chair next to the sofa, Mrs. Keller watched her with raised brows. Mr. Keller, during one of the rare times he was awake, followed her with curious eyes.
Felicity was relieved Mrs. Keller wasn’t a busybody and had the decency not to bring up anything about the situation with Philip. Of course, the dear woman had likely heard Weston arrive on his horse. She’d probably watched out the window as he’d approached the front door but then veered toward the backyard. Even if Mrs. Keller didn’t know about the kiss, she could surely guess that Weston hadn’t been pleased to find Philip at the boardinghouse.
“I’ll go check on supper.” Felicity spoke the words to no one in particular as she headed into the kitchen. But even as she crossed to the stove, lifted the lid, and sniffed the soup, her mind couldn’t register what kind of soup it was or any of the scents emanating from it. In fact, the past couple of hours had been such a blur that Felicity couldn’t remember what she’d cut up and put in the pot, and she didn’t care.
She set the lid back in place, stepped over to the worktable, and patted the loaf of bread she’d made earlier in the day, which seemed a lifetime ago.
Pressing a hand against her forehead, she blew out a taut breath. “What have I done?”
She didn’t need to ask. She already knew. She’d kissed Philip Berg. And she’d allowed Weston Oakley to ride away, essentially putting an end to his courting her.
She hated hurting Weston. But now he knew they weren’t meant to be together. And if she’d harbored any thoughts—even slim—about one day being with Weston, she no longer did. She’d thought she wasn’t ready for a relationship with any man. But maybe she’d just needed the right man.
Even so, she never would have believed she could be so bold as to initiate a kiss. It had been unexpected and unplanned.
She released a long sigh and started pacing the length of the kitchen.
Whatever the case, what was done was done. And now she had to live with the repercussions.
What had Philip thought of their kiss? What did it mean to him?
She’d wanted to ask him, wanted to tell him she was falling in love with him, wanted to beg him not to leave. But at the same time, she didn’t want to pressure him. She certainly didn’t want to coerce him into staying with her here in Fairplay. He didn’t have to agree to marry her or anything serious like that. But would he consider staying for the winter and seeing how their relationship developed?
After kissing her the way he had, he had to be feeling some of the same things she was. It had to be more than just physical attraction for him. Surely he liked her and wanted to be with her too.
Or was that just wishful thinking?
She paused in front of the door to her bedroom that was off the kitchen. It was still Philip’s makeshift darkroom. He’d given her a tour shortly after setting up the room, showing her the various stages of photograph development. He’d even let her try her hand at developing one of the pictures of the snowy landscape.