Page 44 of Lady Willa's Divinely Wicked Vicar
Chapter 9
His body demanded her but his mind refused her. Clear that he must stop following her risqué lead, he strode into his main room and headed for his liquor keep. The fire was so high in the hearth that he thought he’d go up in flames as well. Why had he fallen in love with a woman who was forbidden to him?
With a shaking hand, he unstoppered the wine decanter. He’d talk Wills out of this seduction.
A click of the lock in his front door caught his ear. The handle turned. And then the wooden hulk banged against the wall.
He spun.
“Charlie!”
“Jesus!” He gaped at his intruder. “Esme? Do you knock?”
“Oh, Charlie.” His friend, who was to be a bride tomorrow, halted in her stride and took in his state of undress. She grinned. “I am sorry. Did I frighten you?”
“Hell, yes!”
“Tsk, tsk, Vicar. Your rhetoric is scandalous!”She laughed, the minx, and strode toward him, feigning nonchalance.
He could not move, one hand on the bottle, one on a glass. How to explain the shirt around his waist and—he winced—Wills’s little purse and frilly fichu just there in his home?
“You anticipated my visit!” she exclaimed though he figured she was simply pulling his leg—and trying to ignore his bare chest. “Wonderful! I came for a drink, a quote and advice.”
He squinted at the ceiling. How to send her on her way? “All right. We’ll be quick then. Wine, first. Quote, second, and advice, third?”
She brushed back a stray lock of her dark hair while she took her sweet time considering his bare chest. How could he give her spiritual advice when he stood here half naked? “Wine, then advice. Skip the quote.”
“As usual.” He rolled his eyes, then filled the second glass he’d intended for Wills and gave it to her. “Sit. I shall return with all you need.”
“Promises I need you to keep.”
He snorted and strode off into his bedroom.
Wills sat on his bed, her dark brows dancing in mirth.“Esme?” she mouthed.
He gave her a nod, then went to his clothes press to get another shirt. Pulling at the ruined one round his waist, he dropped it to his laundry basket. But he froze when she came and wrapped her arms around him. Then pressed her warm lips to his back. Her kisses were brands upon his skin. The touch of human love that made a man—any man, this man—yearn for more.
He spun. “Don’t.”
But she would not be deterred. She stretched up and brushed her soft lips across his. His blood surged to flames and his arms wrapped her flush against him. God, she was so supple, so giving. He pressed his mouth to hers, his tongue parted her lips and he tasted her surrender sweet as honey. To want her like this was sowrong.His mind screamed at him to stop.Stop.
“Have you been at the frolic all day?” Esme called to him.
“No.” He unwound himself from Wills’s embrace and frowned at her. She wiggled her brows. He shook his head and struggled to put on his shirt. He made up a bit about visiting a parishioner and yelled to Esme. “Why aren’t you thrilling your mother and getting dressed for the ball?”
“Because I’m here with you!”
Wills ran her hands up underneath the tail of his shirt and giggled.
“Stop that,” he whispered and planted his lips on hers to quiet her. She giggled anyway, and he caught her close. She widened her eyes at him and he had to laugh. He raised his voice to Esme and said, “I see. Soaking up the wisdom of the church, are you?”
“I am,” she replied.
Wills wiggled free, then tucked his shirttail into the top of his breeches. Her help dressing him filled up his mind with immoral thoughts of having her hands delve lower and cup him and…
He cleared his throat, and drove his thoughts to Esme. “Come for comfort before you enjoy the temporal fruits of love?”
Wills’s eyes danced merrily at that.
