Page 3 of Lady Willa's Divinely Wicked Vicar
She whirled, ready to storm out, but came face-to-face with him.
“Oh! Oh!” Her horrified gaze swept down his dour black clothes. “Who…Or you are the…thevicar?!”
“I am, indeed.”
“You heard me?” She scowled, more perturbed than ashamed.
Good for her. “I did. If you would like to talk—”
“With you? No.” She tugged at her gloves, her pert nose in the air. “But if you wish to talk with God about me—”
“Why would I?” He had to arch a brow and grin.
She narrowed her large hazel eyes on him. Ah. She was not amused. “Don’t men of the cloth talk to Him often?”
“I’d say we claim His ear more than most.”
She inhaled and those lovely breasts rose with the stunning effort. But she was now—dare he say?—indignant. “Then if you’re in need of a topic?”
He rarely had the lack, but he’d keep her here to sooth her ruffled feathers. “I could make an appeal.”
“Marvelous. Then tell Him, do, that I am not interested in any more proposals from men of frail condition or financial necessity.”
“You’ve had too many. Yes.” He fingered his hat, lest he reach out and push back the curling strands of ebony hair that brushed her charming chubby cheeks. “I heard.”
“Just so. And you will tell Him I wish to marry no man like that.”
“I can indeed offer up that prayer for you.”
“I am obliged. Thank you, sir.” And then she wiggled her way out of that pew.
The sight of her graceful departure—and the sway of her rounded hips in the clinging rose muslin—forced him to step behind a pew himself. Hiding his physical response to her shapely person was a requirement to preserving his dignity lest she turn and discover him damnably attracted to her. And in church, no less!
He watched her hurry away…and an ache pierced his heart. Would he see her again? A friend of Esme’s yes, but—?
“Wait! Please!” He ventured to leave the safety of his pew. And he took the aisle slowly for it was hideously difficult to walk in the state of rigid arousal.
She whirled to face him…and thankfully, she kept her gaze on his face.
He breathed more easily. Walked right up to her, inhaled the fragrance of verbena and roses, fought with his insistent cock for a minute and said, “I cannot petition Our Lord without your name, can I?”
“You can’t just…?” She waved a hand.
“Ask Him for favors…in general?”
He offered her the look he dubbed, Mysteries of Life. “What will He think if I am asking gifts for all young unmarried women in general?”
“We do need help. All of us.”
That was true. Women had no standing, legally or financially. “He does have quite a few young ladies to care for. So…your name would be useful.”
“I see your point.”
“Hmm. He wouldn’t…” She waggled her finger toward the altar. “Know that I’d petitioned Him here, that you and I talked and that I asked for your assistance?”
“He might if I told him my thoughts were of the lady who’d been here and who killed her suitors.”
She winced. “Not how I wish to be known.”
