Cloudy with a Chance of Marriage

sorts to Dreare Street’s woes. Hadn’t she gotten the idea for the street fair from its pages? And she loved reading about someone on Dreare Street who’d been happy. It gave her hope.

It would be so frustrating never to see the journal again when she’d only read the first third!

She also had to admit that Lady Tabitha’s friendliness was bothering her, as well. Perhaps it was catty of her to think such negative thoughts, but the femme fatale’s generous invitation to accompany her and her party to the ball and provide Jilly a gown made no sense, coming as it did on the heels of the very cool welcome she’d given her when she and her friends had first walked into Hodgepodge.

In short, Jilly couldn’t trust the woman, although Lady Tabitha had given every indication she was trying to be helpful.

“Ah, well,” she said hours later when it was time to turn the sign in the window over to read CLOSED. She was unsettled. Perhaps her jealousy of Lady Tabitha’s good looks and confidence was making her overly sensitive.

She still hadn’t found the diary, but she had managed to make a beautiful display on the new ledge. Every moment of her pleasure in the endeavor had been tinged with a heated memory of Captain Arrow’s form leaning over the ledge, making it with careful hands and looking up at her with laughing eyes.

She closed her eyes and pretended he was holding her hand again, telling her that if she needed him, he was nearby. And then she let herself go over every moment of their scandalous liaison on the floor of Hodgepodge.

She opened her eyes and drew in a breath. She was leaning against the door jamb, her face up to the late afternoon sun, which had come out for a moment from a swirl of clouds and smoke overhead and warmed her lips the way she imagined the captain’s lips would.

If she weren’t careful, she thought as she pushed herself off the jamb and began walking down the street toward the Hobbses’ residence, she’d make a fool of herself and fall in love with Stephen Arrow. He was the least likely man to ever settle down with one woman, and—

It was a moot point anyway.

Why even daydream?

She was married.

Once again, the untenable nature of her situation reared its ugly head, mocking her attempt to live a normal life. She would never know normal again.

* * *

A minute later, she was at Mrs. Hobbs’s door and about to knock on it.

“Miss Jones!” The voice came from behind her.

She turned and her breath caught in her throat. There was Captain Arrow, walking toward her with a slow grin and a twinkle in his eye. “I know what you’re up to,” he said, “and it won’t be easy. I’m here to offer my support.”

“You are?”

How could she not daydream about lying with him again and allowing him to kiss her senseless when he said things like that?

He knocked sharply on the door. “I told you I’d partner you in this whole endeavor. And things may go better with me here.”

“‘Better?’” Her warm feelings once more dissolved instantly at his implication. “I’m perfectly capable of handling the Hobbs family myself.”

He cocked a brow. “I know, but are they capable of handling you?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” she replied in an affronted whisper. “I’m not the one who allows people to hang out my window. I don’t go about indiscriminately—”

“Yes?” His golden irises almost disappeared, and he looked at her as if he were making love to her again.

He was like a harpist plucking the exact right string to make her core thrum with desire for him, even against her will.

“Never mind,” she said. “I’m a respectable—some might even say boring— bookseller.”

“Are you finished?” His tone was amused yet somehow gentle, as if he knew exactly what she was feeling, that her insides were melting, and that she wanted to slide against him and—

Never mind, she told herself. They were highly improper thoughts. Ones she must forget.

She stuck her chin in the air. “Yes, I am.” She refused to be stirred by him unless she chose to be stirred by him, which she most definitely didn’t choose at this moment.

“Good.” His eyes were locked on her own.

She felt stormy and weak inside, all at the same time. She wished he’d go away.

But then he leaned over and whispered in her ear, “You’re never boring.”

And blast it all, she wanted to kiss him all over again.

She whipped her head around to look stonily at the door and could swear she heard him chuckling.

The door opened then, and Captain Arrow took her firmly by the elbow. “We’re here to see Mr. and Mrs. Hobbs,” he said pleasantly to a ginger-haired butler with a stooped posture.

“Yes, we are,” Jilly threw in for good measure, just so the captain knew she was perfectly capable of handling the situation.

“You people aren’t allowed in,” said the butler. “I can tell ye that right noo. So begone wid ye.”

And he slammed the door in their faces.

“He’s Scottish,” said Jilly, feeling deflated.

“Yes, we know what that means,” Captain Arrow said. “A warrior at heart. He’ll never let us through unless —”

He knocked again.

The door was immediately flung open. “I said ye’d best begone—”

Captain Arrow stuck his foot in the door just as the butler tried to shut it.

“Listen, Sassenach—” the butler snarled.

“Only half English,” Captain Arrow said equably. “I’m a Fraser on my mother’s side.” Then he reached into his pocket and threw the man a flask through the crack in the door. “Taste it. It’s Highland whisky from Ben Nevis.”

“I don’t believe it.” The butler sneered. “The English don’t know anythin’ about whisky. Ten to one it’s that silly French brandy.”

“Try it,” Captain Arrow said.

The butler looked at him suspiciously, then lifted the flask to his lips. The look in his eyes said it all. “Only a true friend of the Scots would have Highland whisky,” he said begrudgingly and opened the door wide. “Where’d ye get this?”

“I told you,” said Captain Arrow. “My mother’s people were Frasers. I’ve got more I’ll be glad to share with you. Show up at my house any time and take your fill.”

“You’re not jokin’?”

“Certainly not,” Stephen assured him, “and feel free to bring a friend or two. Now if you’d be so good—”

“Step right in,” the butler said.

A moment later they were walking down a corridor toward a sitting room.

“I could have done that myself,” Jilly whispered to the captain. “Without the flask.”

“How?”

She speared him with a look. “I have my ways.”

“Oh?” He squeezed her elbow. “Perhaps you could practice your—ahem—ways on me later.”

Practice on him? She knew very well what sort of practice he meant, although—

Although she’d never, ever, um, practiced what she was sure he was imagining. She wasn’t even sure what to do.

But I’d love to find out.

“H-how dare you suggest such a thing,” she protested, but even to her own ears, her injury sounded feigned. Shocked and appalled at her own weakness, Jilly had to look away from her neighbor once again. He was much too