3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

“ A horse?”

Lucy brushed her hair furiously while seated at the vanity in her bedroom’s corner. “You had to call me a horse?”

Willa chuckled as she watched a snowy egret traverse the bayou’s waterline from Lucy’s window. She could only spot the one white figure, but as sunset approached, more would arrive to have their dinner on the swampy shore.

“It was the best insult I could come up with,” she replied. “You know I don’t do well when put on the spot.”

“And the blue dress.” Lucy swiveled around on the stool. “She forces you to wear the blue dress when it looks much better on me.”

Willa didn’t care what she wore and would gladly strip out of the dress right then so as not to have to listen to her sister complain all night. “It doesn’t matter what you wear, Lucy. You’re beautiful, and Paul Anderson will trip over himself to have your attention.”

“Mother would never have done that to Grace.”

Long gone from Haven House, their mother remained dedicated to her eldest daughter. “No, she most definitely would not have done that to Grace. ”

With the afternoon sun disappearing, the temperature would be ideal for a stroll. Tentatively opening the balcony door, Willa let the first slap of cool air strike her lungs. Perfect.

“Come walk with me, Lucy.”

Setting her brush aside, Lucy joined her, and the two of them stepped outside to walk along Haven’s expansive balcony, which traveled the entire length of the second floor. Careful to keep out of sight so they wouldn’t be seen by arriving guests, they headed towards the rear of the house arm and arm.

“Are you feeling good about The Gathering tonight?” Lucy asked.

Willa nodded, looking out over the dozens of oaks sprinkled across the lawn. Their home’s beauty was unmatched during this time of day. Nestled in the thick pine forests of northern Florida and less than a mile from the powder white dunes of the Gulf of Mexico, the splendor of Haven House was hard to deny. “I’ll remain on the stairs. Standing above all, as if I’m an angel on judgment day, ready to condemn the slightest hint of wickedness.”

Lucy scoffed. “This party is being thrown by Mother. The only wickedness that could occur will be if Paul’s mother drinks too much punch and tries to hire Bonnie out from under us yet again.”

“That was quite the scandal last year.”

“I don’t know if Mother has ever forgiven her.”

Stopping to lay a hip on the railing, Willa observed her sister. Brown dress or not, Lucy remained dazzling. “And what about you?” she asked. “Are you feeling good about tonight?”

“I’ve missed Paul.” Lucy released a sigh so thick with longing it nearly sent Willa tumbling over the railing. “I can’t tell you how hard it’s been to restrain myself from marching right over there now that he’s home. The only reason I haven’t done so is because I’m angry at him for not stopping by when your new doctor came to Haven yesterday.”

Her new doctor.

Dr. Anderson.

Noah .

Turning to face the bayou, Willa tried to hide her smile. The number of times Dr. Noah Anderson had entered her thoughts since their meeting had become too many to count.

But count them, she did.

And it was one hundred and thirty-six.

Lucy let out another lovesick sigh. “Do you think Paul has forgotten me?”

“It’s all but agreed upon, Lucy.”

“That’s not what I’m asking.”

“Any man who could forget you is not worth the worry,” Willa said, deciding it was better to be honest than not. “I think it’s time you let it be known that you’re ready for him to stop dragging his feet.”

Her sister beamed at the suggestion, looking as radiant as the sunset. Every so often, Willa could see traces of Grace in Lucy. “I think I will.”

As they neared the rear of the house, the buzzing murmur of staff working below carried up on the wind, with Bonnie’s voice ringing loudest of all.

“Bonnie is certainly in a tizzy tonight.” With her hands on the concrete railing, Lucy leaned over the edge to have a peek. “Mother said she hired some Port Michaelson girls to come work in the kitchens. They’re staying over through the winter to help get the house to rights after The Gathering and so we’re running smoothly for the holidays.”

That would explain the high-pitched giggling heard between Bonnie’s orders. “Isn’t that Jennie?” Willa joined Lucy in watching. They had never hired outsiders for such a long period. “The pretty one who brings the milk on Tuesdays?”

“You mean the one Cal can’t take his eyes off whenever she comes around?” Lucy pointed to the group of four women currently being inspected by Bonnie on the lawn. “The very one.”

“Oh, he’s prowled around after her for at least two years, and now she’s going to be here through the holidays?” Willa grinned at her sister. Their brother’s reputation with women was quite improper for their ears, but the whispers made their way to them, nevertheless. “Perhaps The Gathering won’t be so boring after all.”

The Gathering was abysmal.

But not boring.

Standing on the stairs, Willa waved her satin hand-painted fan to circulate the stifling air and attempted to appear engaged with partygoers. She smiled here and inclined her head there, but thankfully, she was never required to converse.

John Richards arrived with his sister and with—miracle of miracles—nary a child in sight. Yet, when an hour passed, and he never made even the slightest bit of eye contact with her, too busy conversing with Lucy who had gone out of her way to be friendly with him, Willa began to think that perhaps the rumors weren’t true.

And life as a spinster might be her fate after all.

Much to her mother’s dismay, the Andersons arrived late, drawing the attention of the crowd. Willa wasn’t at all surprised by the reaction. Not when dealing with a family such as the Andersons. Each more beautiful than the next, the lot was like nothing else in the area, and the arrival of Noah and his brother had only upped the ante. The trek to Haven House from both Hollingsdale and Port Michaelson wasn’t easy, but it seemed that didn’t matter. There were many Mamas in attendance tonight, all ready to thrust their eligible daughters into the fray.

It was like a pageant of the very best the county had to offer. Women of marriageable age filled the halls of Haven, ready to battle for the attention of Paul or poor Beau, who didn’t quite know what to do with all the females surrounding him.

Not that Noah didn’t have his fair share of attention. As a doctor, he came in last amongst the available men. Never to accumulate the fortune his cousin or brother would one day share, he was the least desirable of the lot, even if he was by far the most attractive .

In Willa’s opinion, at least.

Cal was being sought after as much as the Anderson men. Watching from her perch, Willa snickered at the flock of girls following her poor brother from room to room as he himself chased after the serving girl, Jennie.

The entire affair gave a little humor to the evening. A distraction sorely needed. So much of a distraction that she didn’t notice Noah’s approach until he was right next to her.

“Would you like me to fetch you some punch?”

Startled by his arrival, Willa greeted him with a polite smile. “I’m fine, thank you.”

“You don’t look fine. You look bored.” He matched her stance, wisely keeping two steps away with his own glass of punch in hand. “An angel watching over the debauchery below.”

Willa released an unladylike snort. “This is Haven House, Dr. Anderson. Debauchery is not tolerated here.”

“Yes, I know.” He smiled, quite literally sending her heart racing. “I’ve met your mother.”

Willa gripped the banister harder. The urge to get closer to him and lower herself to the next step had become quite alarming.

“May I call on you tomorrow?”

Her mouth fell open. In the entirety of her life, no man had ever requested to call on her. Partly because no men her age traveled as far as Haven House if they could help it, but mainly because she was just Willa. The plain, boring, sickly Fairweather girl who had nothing to offer.

And she knew he didn’t mean it the way a normal man would. She wasn’t a fool. She knew he meant to see her in a medical capacity, but as he watched her with a playful look in his eye, it was very difficult to remind her inner self of that fact.

At her silence, Noah continued to smile. Bigger, brighter, and beyond devastating. It was getting to the point where someone should truly say something to him about it. The man had no right to throw his charm around as he did .

“Why should you wish to call on me tomorrow?”

“To examine you?” His smile dimmed, and Willa said a little prayer of thanks. That infernal smile of his was a weapon. “I would like us to begin treatment as soon as possible, but I’ll need to gather information, and since I’m finally settled, I was hoping we could start tomorrow. Privately.”

The idea of being alone with him made her exceedingly nervous. She had already made a fool of herself once and didn't care to have a repeat performance so soon. “What kind of information?”

His gaze dipped, striking her mouth first before descending to sweep over her entire being. “The standard stuff. Height, heartbeat, and so on.” Taking another step on the stairs, his eyes slowly returned to hers. “You do have a heartbeat, don’t you, Ms. Fairweather?”

No, she most certainly did not. At least not in her chest. With him this close, her poor, weak heart had taken a dive straight into her stomach. Why bother with the exam? She was dead where she stood.

“Willa?”

And why did he always have to say her name like that? Husky and with a hint of familiarity. “Y-yes, I have a heartbeat.”

Concern spiked in his gaze, wiping the amusement once there. “Are you feeling well?”

She cleared her throat. How much more embarrassing could this encounter become? And she was honestly growing tired of repeating “I’m fine” to nearly all his questions.

“I’m fine, Dr. Anderson.”

“Are you lying to me, Ms. Fairweather?”

“Why would I lie to you?”

“Of that, I’m not sure.” He brazenly moved to stand with her, sharing all the available space. “But if I am to help, lying to me is not advisable.”

Impossible a feat as it seemed, Willa averted her gaze. His nearness was inappropriate and fraught with dangerous implications, should anyone notice.

“Dr. Anderson, please give me room to breathe. ”

“Does having people close cause you to feel out of breath?”

“No, of course not.”

“Because if it did, the problem could be in your head,” he replied, backing up to lean on the wall behind him. “An aversion to crowds can cause shortness of breath.”

The party forgotten, Willa’s head snapped to the man smugly sipping from one of her mother’s good punch glasses. “I beg your pardon?”

“Ailments of the mind can be as debilitating as physical ones.”

Willa blinked at him standing there, looking handsome in the candlelight. Her mother always kept Haven well-lit during The Gathering. There wouldn’t be a dark corner or shadowed spot anywhere on the ground floor.

Yet in the flickering glow, shadows played across Noah Anderson’s outrageously handsome face, giving him an almost sinister appearance. In truth, the dance of dark and light only increased his beauty, if a man could be called beautiful, and made her want to inch closer to see if he might truly be the devil in disguise.

“Are you implying that my lungs’ inability to function properly is all in my head?” she asked casually as she fiddled with lace trim on her white kid gloves.

“It’s happened before.”

He waited as she mulled over his words, clearly not realizing that the debate going on in her mind had nothing to do with whether he was correct or not. Finally, after deciding not to hurl him and his implied diagnosis right down the stairs, Willa looked down her nose at him. “I am not upset by crowds, Dr. Anderson.”

“Noah, if you please.”

He was testing her. Gauging to see if her reaction was indeed from some unknown hysteria or, worse, from him.

“I would love to join in the festivities. To dance and engage with people I am not related to or even possibly have a conversation with a person who does not have fur.”

He let out a short laugh. “Cats are not people. ”

“Well, they certainly converse better than most.”

“Only because the conversation is one-sided.”

It was her turn to squelch a smile. “Not true. Bonnie has a tabby who is quite vocal when he disapproves of something.”

The noise in the hall grew in volume as the foremen from the mill arrived with their families. It was the one time of the year Stephen Fairweather permitted them admittance into his home.

Noah joined her at the banister. “A full house tonight,” he remarked, his mouth entirely too close to her ear. “Will the mill workers arrive next?”

A heaviness settled in, his words carrying more weight than he realized. “The workers do not come anymore. Only the supervisors and their families are invited.”

“Why don’t the workers come?”

Willa turned to speak directly to him and sucked in a sharp slice of air, her head nearly knocking into his. He was close—too close—his face mere inches from hers. Not that she minded. He smelled delicious, and his jawline was still in need of a shave, the dark stubble making her wonder if it felt as rough as it looked. Maybe she might like to run her tongue across…

Tongue?

Good heavens.

Her spine snapped straight. What on earth was wrong with her?

“I’m going to be working with them,” Noah went on as if the world hadn’t tipped on its axis, knocking her off their earthly plane and straight into the pits of a harlot’s hell. “My plan is to care for the mill workers until my time is up here. There’s a small building between our property and yours, and I mean to utilize it. Although it will probably take me until I leave to get it sorted.”

“That will be lovely,” she replied, determined to keep her mind from wandering. “And needed.”

Their gazes connected when he heard the tremor in her voice, and Willa imagined this was what it must feel like to stand on a mountaintop. Dizzying heights and thin air, where the urge to jump feet first off a cliff became as loud as the heartbeat in your ears.

“Willa, are you positive you’re alright?”

Why did his eyes continuously seek her mouth? Was there something on it? Had she not wiped all the cream from her lips after sneaking a pastry with Bonnie before retiring to her perch on the stairs?

“Willa?” His baritone voice had the hairs on her arms standing straight up. “Answer me.”

She almost didn’t, wanting to hear him say her name again. “I’m fine.”

“Since you keep insisting that you’re fine, even though you’re breathless every time we speak,” giving her room, he lowered himself to the step below, “then will you do me the honor of taking a turn about the party with me.”

“Excuse me?” Oh, dear. That had come out louder than she expected. “Me?”

He was laughing at her again. “You don’t mean to stand up here all night, do you?”

“I’m not permitted. Mr. Abernathy said I should avoid crowds.”

One of his eyebrows, perfectly arched in severity, went up, and Willa learned very quickly that Dr. Noah Anderson did not care to be told no. “Mr. Abernathy?”

“The barber.”

“The barber?”

“In Hollingsdale,” she explained, knowing how ridiculous she sounded. “Father prefers that I see him rather than the woman who runs the apothecary. Mr. Abernathy isn’t much to look at and only has two teeth left in his head, but he sincerely tries to help however he can.”

Noah set his glass on the stair above, obviously trusting a staff member would whisk it away momentarily. “Ah, but you see, you’re no longer in Mr. Abernathy’s care, but in mine.”

“Oh?”

“Yes, Wilhelmina Fairweather. You’re mine to care for and mine to look after. ”

And there she was, back on that mountaintop and ready to jump.

“I can’t.”

She didn’t know what to do with herself. Not when he straightened, nor when he offered his hand while smirking in a wicked way that had her feeling it right down to the tips of her toes.

“I hate to inform you, as you don’t appear to be the type of woman who cares to hear such things, but you’re wrong, Willa,” he replied, leading her down the stairs and into the main hall. “With me at your side, you can do anything.”