Page 71 of Temptations of a Wallflower
“Then we can be unreasonable together.” He kissed her deeply. She tasted of cordial, cakes, and her own spicy sweetness.
As he kissed his wife, he glanced quickly toward the sofa. It wasn’t especially large, but if he and Sarah were creative, they could find a way to fit on it. Mrs. Holland was busy with supper, and Fred Wolbert had taken himself off to his lodging house. They were alone. It had been hours since he and Sarah had last made love. Too long. The sofa might do very well . . .
A knock sounded on the door.
He and Sarah held each other, but stilled. They both waited. “Maybe they’ll go away,” he said lowly.
The knock rang out again. This time with more insistence.
“Very persistent, your visitor,” Sarah murmured.
With an exasperated sigh, he let her go and strode toward the front door. He had half a mind to tell whoever was waiting to come back another time. But he had a responsibility to his parish.
As soon as he pulled open the door, however, he found himself facing nearly a dozen men and women of the village. They were dressed in their visiting clothes,and nearly all of them carried some kind of gift or offering, from loaves of bread to armfuls of lace and linens.
They beamed at him.
“Welcome back, Vicar,” someone said. “We’ve come to offer our felicitations on your marriage.”
“And get an eyeful at your new bride,” an older woman added. The gathered crowd chuckled.
He felt Sarah hovering behind him. Debating whether or not to come forward. And then she appeared beside him. “Please, everyone, come in.”
Murmuring their thanks, the parishioners filed in, shaking hands and bowing. Jeremy fought another sigh.
“I’ll let Mrs. Holland know we have guests,” he said above the din of the visitors. But as he moved to shut the door, more footsteps sounded on the pathway.
Jeremy suppressed a groan. A long queue stretched from his doorway all the way into the lane, with more people coming. They all seemed intent on paying a call.
In the parlor, he could hear Sarah laughing and chatting with the guests, welcoming newcomers and circulating amongst the visitors. Warmth filled him. She might have been a wallflower in London, but here in this humble village, she was a fine rose. And he was the lucky man who witnessed her blossoming.
What new aspects of her would he discover? He could not wait to experience this life with her, to learn all her ways and the depths of his growing affection for her. If he was ever restless or bored by his work as a vicar, he must find a way to overcome it. Together, he hoped he and Sarah could find joy.
Chapter 21
I found myself reading the newspaper often, piles and piles of them. They were quickly scanned, then discarded like so many autumn leaves. I searched for any mention of my highwayman. Time moved so slowly, as if happy to torment me. A fortnight passed, but there was no word . . .
The Highwayman’s Seduction
Sarah stuck her head into the cramped little room off the parlor that Jeremy used as a study. She smiled to herself to see her husband seated at his desk, his shirtsleeves rolled up, his hands cradling his head so that his blond curls poked up between his fingers.
“Can I fetch you anything?” she asked softly. “Tea. Wine. Something to eat.”
“How about a blunt instrument to knock me unconscious?” He didn’t look up as he spoke but kept his attention on the paper and quill in front of him.
She stepped into the room. “Sermon not coming along?”
With a sound of disgust, he leaned back in his chair.“My mind is blank as this paper. Where’s divine inspiration when it’s called for?”
She seldom had difficulty finding a topic to write about, but then, human sexuality was a continuously evolving and wondrously fascinating phenomenon. Sex was inescapable and multifaceted. But it would make for a very scandalous sermon if Jeremy discussed lovemaking. However open-minded his parishioners had been in accepting her as the vicar’s wife, they likely wouldn’t take well to a frank and candid discussion of coitus. At least, not in church.
In her own writing, Lady Josephina and the professor continued their passionate liaison. Their appetite for each other seemed inexhaustible, Josephina’s fidelity being especially surprising. But the lady showed no signs of tiring of her professor.
“Perhaps,” Sarah said, coming to stand behind him and placing her hands on his tense shoulders, “you’re approaching it too head-on.”
“I don’t understand,” he answered with a frown.
“You’re thinking of the whole sermon, all at once. Like a mountain you’ll never be able to climb or a mural you cannot paint with a minuscule brush. But perhaps instead of contemplating the monolith in front of you, you take it thought by thought. Word by word.” She nodded toward his quill. “Just a sentence. A single idea. Not a full treatise. Merely the kernel of a notion.”
