Page 13 of Temptations of a Wallflower
Sarah sighed. Her gaze drifted back to the hedge maze. Could she drop her fan? As they both bent to retrieve it, she might whisper to him an invitation to meet her there in a few moments. And then . . . She could taste those gently curved lips of his. Oh, she’d experienced a few chaste kisses before, but never anything she truly desired. But she wanted to kiss Mr. Cleland. She craved feeling his mouth against hers, and seeing if her imagination was correct about him.
He, too, looked at the maze. Was he thinking the same thoughts? Did he want to savor her? A delectable thought, one that made her feel both languid and powerfully alive all at once.
Their gazes met. He turned gorgeously pink.
Hewasthinking of kissing her!
“Now, Sarah!” her mother snapped, waiting.
“I must go.” Turning, she walked toward her mother. Who would talk to him now that she was going? Yet he had such an easy manner that he’d find no difficulty securing more conversation.
Lady Wakefield stood on the terrace, waiting. Shelooked confused. “I’d no idea you had need of religious guidance.”
“I don’t,” Sarah answered.
“Then why bother spending time with that man?”
“Because he intrigued me.”
Surprise crossed Lady Wakefield’s face. “You honestly wanted to talk with him?”
“I did. He’s . . .” Earthy. Intelligent. Unique. “Interesting.”
Her mother stared at her for a moment. “Good gracious, you were actuallyconsideringhim?”
Though it was an impossibility, Sarah said, “I might have been.”
Lady Wakefield clicked her tongue. “Interesting or not, he’s no match for you.”
“We got along rather well, actually.”
Her mother’s lips thinned. “That’s not what I meant.”
“I know.” Sarah took her shawl from the servant who offered it to her, then adjusted it around her shoulders. Oddly, she hadn’t felt much of the cold when she had been with Mr. Cleland.
“Don’t squander further time with him. He’s useless.”
The harsh word made Sarah recoil. A protest hovered at her lips. But arguments were pointless with the duchess.
Sarah glanced back toward the garden, where, to her surprise, the vicar remained alone. Instead of looking at the flowers or statues, however, his face was tilted upward, and he contemplated the pale sky, the sunlight painting him brightly.
Was it a shame or precisely right that a man of thecloth should be so extraordinarily good-looking? When would she see him again?
Wouldn’t it make for an interesting Lady of Dubious Quality novel to have a vicar for a hero?
These questions haunted her long after she climbed into the carriage and headed for home.
Chapter 4
“Sir,” I gasped, “you have quite terrified me!”
“That is the very last thing I should like to do to you, ma’am,” he answered with a voice like rough silk.
“And what is it that you would do with me?”
“I could never say such things to a lady,” he answered. He tucked his pistol into his sash. I noticed then that he had large, broad hands, callused from holding the reins of his horse. How might they feel on my bare flesh?
“Oh, sir,” I answered, “I am no lady. Not in the truer sense of the word . . .”
