Author's Note: Hey Everyone, thank you for all the lovely reviews! They really make my day! So here we go with chapter 2. As always, feedback is always appreciated. Was anyone disturbed by Dorcas' rapid change in attitude at poor James in the last episode. The poor man! This is will probably be my last update for a while.

Disclaimer:I realise I didn't put this up before - oops! Well this adaptation belongs to the BBC! and the story belongs to Flora Thompson.

Celestia Brice-Coulson

Her bed was cold. Celestia Brice-Coulson could not sleep. Her return had made London seem even more dreary and miserable than when James had first left for Candleford. Her body shivered from the cold. Her bed was colder than it had been for months.

"It has ended between us…" No! he had made that choice without her say. Unlike his attachment with Miss Lane, this was not mutual. He had forced her to walk away. While in Candleford, his correspondence with her, had become more professional, more distant. The change in tone had been apparent. Her visit to Candleford had really been all about her, needing him, wanting him and his wild passions.

She shuddered in her bed at the memories of the day. She turned around only to see the leather binder containing his certificates of stock. She had yet to sign them.

A postmistress sweep James Dowland off his feet? Now there is something that could have London talking for the rest of the social season. The handsome Mr. Dowland had been paid the attentions of many a fine gentlemen's daughter. Yet, she had never been worried because she saw the flirtations for what they were…flirtations to make her jealous - to transfigure his bout of insomnia into a bout of hell-born passion. His eyes, had always been for her.

She had never understood why he had wanted to open a hotel in an obscure place like Candleford. He had given her the most solid reasons for starting up a hotel in the soon-to-be bustling town; to take the monopoly and establish themselves and then spread out through Oxfordshire. But, she had always suspected that there was more: Some link he held with the place that she did not know. His fervent energy in drawing up the plans for the hotel had given him more sleepless nights than necessary for such an undertaking.

His affections, no - love, she corrected for Dorcas Lane is what had him on edge during her visit. The nervous glint she had seen in his eye as he introduced them to each other was now glaringly apparent. His awkward gestures in front of the Sisters Pratt... James Dowland was many things, but he was not awkward, confidence exuded like an eternal spring. When he had all but begged her to take lunch in her room, had made worried her about his lack of sleep he was getting. Mentally, she had already been planning a midnight rendezvous in his chambers.

Her body spasmed at the thought of a midnight rendezvous with the dashing James Dowland. She shivered now for a different reason altogether as she remembered, not the cold but the feel of his lips against her hand as she had entered the hotel, his strong arm around her waist as he guided her discreetly through the hotel. She remembered his hot mouth against her skin and her hands clutched at the sheets as a low moan escaped her lips and salty tears began to seep from her eyes.

His stay in Candleford had made James foolish and naïve. He should have most certainly known that hell hath no fury like that of a woman scorned. Did he really think that she would give him up without a fight! That a 'Thank-you," would suffice, after all they had been through? The tough and ruthless James Dowland, lately of London, had been tamed by Candleford.

The passion of his declaration had sealed their fate. She could not bear to keep him bound in a state that would lead to them hating. She loved him too much to watch him waste away his deep fires on hate…on hate, instead of her.

Yes, his passion had been enough. To give up everything he had striven for, was not an easy sacrifice for Mr. James Dowland. And then the silly woman had rejected his offer of marriage. What age were these country-folk still living in? For truly, he had done nothing wrong other than keep a widow happy. Dorcas Lane was a fool. No, she reminded herself, Dorcas Lane is a happy and lucky fool because she will always have James' heart.

But in the end, when the game was up, she would survive. Survive or fail. In that regard she and James were suited to each other - failure was never an option. Survival was all that mattered and if that meant leaving a shattered heart behind, then so be it.

In a street, not too far away, Big Ben chimes the witching hour...Tomorrow, she would need to purchase a new bed.