Heart's Desire (4 page)

His heart insisted he ask what was bothering her, but his common sense was equally adamant that he keep the conversation in the safer waters
to
which she’d steered it.
“I was about to unpack a crate delivered from Scotland.
I’ve no idea what it contains.”

“How is it that you don’t know what you purchased for the shop?”

“I didn’t go to Scotland myself.
About a year ago
,
I hired on Adam Graham as an assistant.
He made the trip, arranged for the purchases, and shipped them back.”

“The vicar’s son?” Callie asked.

William nodded.
“He didn’t wish to join the clergy and approached me about employment.
He’s proven invaluable and has an excellent eye for antiques and unusual
objets d’art
.
Plus
,
his haggling skills are formidable.”

“You have some lovely pieces.”
Her gaze drifted to the glass counter.
“One in particular caught my interest.”

He immediately knew which piece in the display she meant.
“The oval mirror pendant with the silver filigree edge.”

She laughed.
“How did you know?”

Because he’d thought of her the instant he’d seen it.
Had known she’d adore the palm-sized piece that could be worn as either a brooch or a pendant, would love the glittering emeralds cut to look like leaves set in the delicate filigree, surrounding cabochon diamond flowers.
“I know how you like anything to do with flowers.”
Even as he said the words
,
he caught a tantalizing whiff of roses.
“It was in the first crate from Scotland I unpacked this morning.”

She turned and walked back to the display case
,
then peered through the glass.
“May I see it?”

“Of course,” William said, moving behind the counter.

As he carefully shifted other pieces to afford him access to the mirror, Callie said, “I’ve always loved this shop.
Every time I crossed the threshold
,
I was filled with anticipation of what unique treasures I might find.”
He glanced up and watched her draw a deep breath
,
then smile.
“I adore that smell
…
that distinctive combination of aged parchment, old books, and, well, I’m not sure what else to call it except mustiness.”

“That’s hardly flattering,” he said in a dust
-
dry tone.
“But I know precisely what you mean
,
and I love it as well.
It causes many people to sneeze.”

“Not me.”
She closed her eyes and pulled in another deep breath.
“It makes me want to poke around in cramped corners looking for hidden treasures.”

Just one of the countless things he’d always loved about her
—
the way she enjoyed sifting through the dusty boxes that arrived at the shop.
She’d never shied away from dirt or cobwebs, never complained about the tedious chore of cleaning the items they unpacked.
And no matter how filthy she’d gotten, she’d somehow still always smelled like roses.

He often fantasized about the
ir
being married, running the shop together.
Traveling to find treasures to bring back to sell.
Happily ensconced in the modest rooms above the shop where he’d lived his entire life.

Then reality would return with a thump, reminding him that he was a lowly shopkeeper, while she was the sister of a duchess.

And therefore utterly out of his reach.

She would marry a titled gentleman who would surround her with every luxury.
While William wasn’t poor, neither was he wealthy.
Yet even if he were, it wouldn’t matter
,
as he certainly wasn’t titled.
The fact that one of those London fops hadn’t already whisked her to the altar stunned him.
Surely
,
the duke and duchess were flooded with marriage offers for Callie.
William knew the day would eventually come, and given that she was about to turn twenty-five, that day would be sooner rather than later.
And he had no idea how he would survive it.
Knowing she belonged to another man.
A man who was touching her.
Kissing her.
Loving her.

His insides wrenched into a knot.
Desperate to put some space between them, he lifted the mirror from its nest of black velvet
and
practically thrust it at her.
“Here you are,” he said, his voice hoarse and brusque.
“You can look it over while I make myself presentable for dinner.”

Bloody hell, joining her for dinner was not a good idea.
How much could his battered heart bear?
Yet neither could he ignore the clawing need to be with her.
No matter the cost.
Spending time with her
…
he knew the toll it would take on him when she left Halstead again.
And took his heart with her.

He felt her fingers brush against his and looked down.
They both held the mirror.
He was about to let go when the mirror’s surface seemed to shimmer.
Then, to his astonishment, a blurry image materialized on the polished surface.

Frowning, William leaned closer.
The image sharpened a bit
,
and he discerned a man and woman.
Sitting beneath an enormous willow tree near a lake.
That tree
…
the location looked familiar
,
and with a jolt
,
he realized it was the lake behind Albright
C
ottage.
Another shimmer
,
and the image became clearer.
And he recognized the couple.
It was h
e
and Callie.
Callie was cradling something in her arms.
Something that appeared to be
…
a baby?

William blinked
,
and the image vanished.
He shook his head and realized that he no longer held the mirror, that Callie had taken it from him and now cradled it in her hands.

“Did you see that?” he asked.

“See what?”
He felt Callie looking at him and forced his gaze away from the mirror.
And found her regarding him with an unreadable expression.
“William, are you all right?
You look as if you’ve seen a ghost.”

“Look in the mirror.
Tell me what you see.”

She lowered her gaze.
“I see myself.”

“Nothing more?”

She raised her gaze to his.
“What else would I see?”

He moved swiftly around the counter to join her.
When he peered at the mirror over her shoulder, he saw only their faces as they were now.
No lake, no tree, no child.

“William?
What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”
Bloody hell, he was losing his mind.
“May I have the mirror for a moment?”

“Of course.”
She handed him the piece.
He angled it closer to
the window to capture the fading light and peered at the shiny surface.
And saw nothing save his own frowning countenance.
Whatever he thought he
had seen
was clearly a figment of his imagination.
Yet it had seemed so real.

He raked a hand through his hair and set the mirror on the counter.
“Um, sunlight hit the mirror and affected my vision for a moment.”
Christ, he sounded like an idiot.
“If you’ll excuse me, I’ll ready myself for dinner.”

He turned and hurried up the stairs to his rooms.
After closing his bedchamber door behind him, he leaned against the oak panel and pulled in an unsteady breath.
What the hell had just happened to him?
Clearly
,
seeing Callie again had addled his wits.

“Which shouldn’t surprise you, you arse,” he muttered.
True.
How many times had it felt as if his unrequited feelings for her would drive him insane?
Too many to count.
And now it appeared
that
the sight of her had pushed him over the edge, causing him to hallucinate.
To manifest his fondest desire
—
he and Callie as a family, with a child of their own
—
into an image in an antique mirror.
He’d lost his heart to her long ago.
His soul as well.
Why shouldn’t his mind be next?

With a weary sigh
,
he pushed off the door and headed toward the washstand.
Time to ready himself for an evening in her company.
Hours to pretend he wasn’t aching for her.
God help him.
But then tomorrow
,
she would depart for London.

He wanted her never
to
leave.

He couldn’t wait until she was gone.

So he could start, once again, living without her.

CHAPTER TWO

Callie watched William climb the stairs.
The instant he disappeared from her view
,
she whipped her attention back to the mirror pendant.
Heart pounding, hands shaking, she lifted it and stared into its shiny surface.
And saw only her own pale face reflected there.
Whereas only moments ago she’d seen
…
she wasn’t quite certain.
A figment of her imagination.
One that
,
impossibly
,
looked like her and William.
Sitting beneath the ancient willow by the lake at Albright
C
ottage.
A baby in her arms.
A baby with William’s dark brown eyes.

The image had shaken her to her core.
She’d just convinced herself it was nothing more than a trick of the light coupled with her fevered imagination when she’d looked at William.
And instantly suspected by his expression that he, too, had seen it
—
or at least something.

She’d been about to tell him, but before she could
,
he’d denied
that
anything unusual had occurred.
And she quickly realized the folly of admitting what she’d seen
—
or thought she’d seen.
For what could she say?
That the mirror had shown an image of them together with a child?
Of course he’d ask why on earth she’d see such a thing.

And how would you answer that, Callie?

With the truth?
That the image of her and William and a baby perfectly replicated her most secret heart’s desire?

She squeezed her eyes shut.
Dear God, she wanted him to know.
Wanted him to know the secret she’d carried in her heart all these years.
That she’d loved him since the age of four.
And had been in love with him since she was fourteen, the year she realized that her whirlwind of heart-fluttering feelings toward him were the same as what Hayley felt for Stephen and Pamela for Marshall.

She recalled the exact instant she knew she was in love with him.
She’d risen from the lake where he’d just tossed her, drenched, ready to give him the dressing down of his life.
But the words had died in her throat when he’d slowly approached her, his gaze intent on hers with an expression she’d never seen in their dark depths before.
One that made her feel as if her skin had both shrunk and caught on fire.
When he halted
,
less than two feet separated them.
So close she could see the tiny gold flecks in his coffee
-
brown irises.
The small scar on his chin, a souvenir from one of their childhood tree-climbing adventures.
The gloss of his thick, ebony hair.

An agony of anticipation had trembled through her, waiting to see what he would say.
What he would do.

How is
it
that
,
even covered in lake water
,
you still smell like roses?

Whatever answer she might have been able to dredge up was well and truly lost when he brushed his fingertips over her wet cheek and whispered her name.
Callie
.