He could only see her from the elbows up due to some ill-thought-out wooden counter standing vexingly in the way, but her round, delicate shoulders were outshone only by the gentle brown curve of her neck, the stubborn angle of her chin, the lush softness of her lips—at least, Jonathan imagined them to be soft, but in this weather he would not hold a wee bit of chapped roughness against anyone. In any case, her nose was as lovely as her mouth. A little wide and a little snub; the perfect amount of roundness.
From this distance it was impossible to tell whether her eyes were the same dark brown as her skin or as black as the high chignon pinned so efficiently that not a single hair escaped. Could that be true? Or was he too far away to see past her perfection? Helikedruthless efficiency; it was a very fine quality, one he did not share at all. He also liked wild bits that escaped and did incorrigible things.
He supposed this meant that no matter how perfect or imperfect this woman was, she was destined to please him either way. Really, what sort of fool would pass up this opportunity to introduce himself? Jonathan was only here for a few days. Once Calvin arrived on the morrow, his time would be spoken for. If there was any hope of making this woman’s acquaintance, the time was now. His blood raced enthusiastically at the prospect, filling his veins with energy and causing a delightful little flutter in his stomach.
Jonathan was on the cusp of another adventure. He could feel it.
Chapter 2
Miss Angelica Parker’s quick, competent fingers secured the next amethyst in its delicate setting with deliberate, precise movements.
Everything Angelica did was deliberate and precise. The items on display in the front windows were at varying heights, depending on whether the intended wearer was a child or an adult. Because the fireplace was on the left side of her shop, comfortable chairs had been arranged on the right, with artfully placed hand mirrors atop each side table for admiring one’s reflection.
The two-foot-wide counter that separated Angelica from the customers contained her primary work area on the left—the same side as the fireplace—and a curated display of higher priced items on the right—the same side as the customers. The most valuable jewelry was kept under lock and key, to be brought out from a private room by special request.
Every item in the shop was categorized and displayed just so. Every tool in her working area kept in perfect condition, waiting on its assigned hook or labeled drawer at exactly the right distance from where she’d be most likely to need it.
This winter, she was busier than was comfortable, but that was a good thing, a wonderful thing. She was blessed to have so much business. That her shop’s seasonal success kept her from the large, loud, loving Parker family reunion taking place two hundred yards up the road was a disappointment she’d simply have to weather.
There would be time for family,after. Time for Christmas,after. Time for Angelica,after.
Matching necklaces for the Cruz sisters were to be completed today, followed by several other commissioned pieces that needed to be hung in stockings before Christmas came a fortnight from now.
Angelica longed for the comforting chaos of the Parker clan. A few took turns staying home to mind the family jewelry shop, but the rest came every year. Knowing so many family members were here in Cressmouth, having a marvelous time in a guest suite with a gorgeous view on the fourth floor of the castle, a stone’s throw from her workshop, was both a comfort and torture.
Nothing rejuvenated her like her brother’s booming laugh, the smiles and chatter of her nieces and nephews, her aunts’ and cousins’ diverting commentary about the food served in the dining area and the dances in the castle ballroom.
Theywere making merry, at least. That was the important part. If it was difficult to think so in this small, silent, empty shop without her family’s laughter and noisy chatter surrounding her like a warm blanket, well, Angelica would simply have to keep going, like she always did.
As soon as she finished her work, she would join them. It might only be for an hour or two a night, but at least she would have them for a little while.
Perhaps this time when they returned home to London, they would be convinced of Angelica’s talent and potential. They would understand why she had come here to Cressmouth, why it was worth it, what she’d accomplished. Perhaps this time, they would be proud of her.
The tinkle of the bell broke her concentration. She glanced up from the necklace to find a well-dressed gentleman in her doorway, his tall form and broad shoulders blocking the late-afternoon light.
Swiftly, she folded the black velvet over the necklace and its accoutrements, and pasted a welcoming smile onto her face.
“May I help you?”
“Mayhap,” came a low, rich voice, with a droll undercurrent. “Probably not, to be honest, which is no reflection on you, but rather my own peculiarities.”
Scottish? The burr was not as strong as some she’d heard, but undeniably present. It felt like a tickle beneath her skin.
“But one never knows, does one?” he continued. “Walking through this door could spark the biggest adventure of my life. Which would say quite a lot, given the ones I’ve had so far. Or perhaps we’ve begun the greatest adventure of yours! Why hadn’t I thought of that? Perhaps I’m to beyourspark, rather than you mine. Shall we see?”
And with that, he stepped fully into the shop, flinging his arms wide into a dramatic pose as the door tinkled closed behind him.
Angelica did not say anything.
This was not an unusual occurrence. Her quiet reserve, that was, not this oddly compelling stranger. Angelica only felt comfortable when speaking about jewelry or when surrounded by family.
The stranger, however, seemed impossibly comfortable, maintaining both his expansivevoilà!pose and an encouraging smile, as if he fully expected her to strike some complementary stance like two dancers at the start of a tragic opera.
“May I help you?” she said again, hoping the familiar words would turn this situation into something she knew how to deal with.
“I am Jonathan MacLean.” He whipped his hat from his head and made an impressive leg. “At your service.”
“I don’t... require your services?”
