Page 10 of Lady Willa's Divinely Wicked Vicar
“Indeed.”
“News?”
“You cannot doubt my connection.”
“Never!” She pressed a hand to her flawless, generous, appealing bosom and he wished he might put his hand there, too. He could caress…
He cleared his throat. No, he couldn’t. “Drink up! We will dance. There is the introductory music to form the set.”
She winked at him. Then she up-ended her wine, set down her glass to a table, grinned and put her hand in his. “Are we dancing first so that you can break the news to me gently?”
They stood much too close as the others in their set took up their positions. He could have leaned over a few inches sunk one hand into the curls around her ear, drawn her near and kissed her pretty pink lips. Instead he wrestled his desire to a standoff and said, “We are dancing to be polite.”
“That’s what I thought.”
He did lean closer. “And because I want to be with you for much longer than the time it takes for me to reveal what is in your future.”
The frankness of her gaze stilled him as surely as the onslaught of French cannonball once had. “Why would you?”
“I find your quest intriguing.”And you compelling.“Did you avoid me earlier by playing cards with your friends?”
She stared boldly into his eyes. “Yes. And by going to the May Day festival in the village afterward. And you know why.” She glanced away but when she returned to possess his attention, she said, “So do not ask me to explain.”
His heart gave a leap. Did he know? He hoped to hell he did. “Tell me things I cannot devine.”
But the orchestra on the dais began the music of a lively contre dance and conversation consisted of those bits of sentences one could manage when two bodies met in the middle of the floor.
“You and I,” Willa began.
“Are friends,” he finished.
“New acquaintances,” she said when next they met and he put his arm around her waist to lead her in a circle toward the next man down the line.
“But fond,” he insisted at the turn.
She latched on to his gaze with her own stern one. “We must not be.”
“Too late,” he said and shook his head without remorse.
When she faced him again, she shook her head. “I do not wish to hurt you.”
“You won’t.”
“You cannot know that,” she said with vigor.
“I do. I know it in my bones.”
When next they faced each other, she said, “My own bones know a thing or two.”
He grinned when next they came together and it was her turn to put her arm around his waist and lead him toward the next woman in the line. “What do they say?”
“That I do not wish to hurt you.”
He smiled. “I have it on good authority you won’t.”
“He told you that?” She cast him a doubtful eye. “I don’t believe it.”
As he watched her take her steps down the line and then return to him, he knew what the Good Lord intended for him to say. “I will prove it.”
“Ha!” She didn’t believe him, eh?
But when she returned to him, she leaned close to ask, “How?”
“Meet me in the library after this set.”
And when they approached each other, and she looked him in the eyes, she did not refuse him.
