The service did not unfold as expected. A flurry the likes of which the parish had never seen enveloped it. The congregation was halfway through the second song when the organist threw her hands in the air and left her bench. She stalked toward the vicar, whispering furiously, her finger arrowed in accusation. It was obvious to all that she didn’t agree with the song selection. She was making her distaste and exasperation abundantly evident and Cadoc suspected he wasn’t the only one who began tothink the disagreement was perhaps about more than the song choice. The vicar’s eyes widened and he threw up his hands in an attempt to halt the woman’s tirade. His lips were moving, but whatever he was saying was inaudible to the congregation. If he was attempting to pacify her, Cadoc mused, he was failing miserably. The vicar was relatively new to the parish, and it was his first assignment and the organist was a buxom widow with a mind and hearth of her own. There was clearly something unfolding between them.
Cadoc had known the moment Jess and her sisters had slid onto the bench directly behind him, and his entire body had tingled with sharp awareness at her closeness. He decided to take advantage of the chaos and turn around so he could steal a look at her. When he did, she met his gaze, and pushed past her sisters with muttered apologies. They all gave her indulgent looks and shooed her in his direction as he stood and made his way to her.
Once they were a few feet apart, he wasted no time. “Come,” he said, and pulled her along behind him when she slipped her hand into his.
He dragged her behind the vestibule wing, and only halted once they were ensconced in the vicar’s study and he’d closed the door.
“Why do you have such an affinity for cramped, darkened spaces?” She groused.
“Because nooks and crannies protect us from discovery. But this is neither cramped, nor dark,” he said as he lit one of the kerosene lamps and pressed her against the edge of the sturdy desk.
“We are in a church full of people and you just pulled me away for all to see. Could you be any less conspicuous?”
“No one noticed. They’re enthralled by the fight between the vicar and the organist. If they did notice, they’ll assume we’retalking about something that has to do with the school. And you didn’t have to take my hand, dragonfly,” he told her, his voice full of affection.
“Let me guess,” she said as she tapped a finger against his chest. “All you could think about was how much of a distraction their argument was, and how suited it was to your unorthodox intentions.”
“There’s no need for feigned anger, Jess. This is your chance to win back another lens.”
“There’s only one more. And then you have to hand over the microscope itself,” she smugly informed him.
“You’re very confident of your ability to resist my kisses,” he said as he looked down at her. “Is that all you want? The chance to win back another lens?”
Her gaze never wavered. “Perhaps I want more.”
Her confidence set him even more on edge and he pulled her toward him. “I have a confession,” he whispered into her ear.
“Another one?” She said with her sudden breathlessness. “You gave me more than a handful of them last night.”
“Are you keeping a record?”
“No. Perhaps I grow weary of hearing them. Perhaps I would rather you put your mouth to better use.”
“I’ve dreamt of you drenching my fingers and flooding my mouth. Dreamt of the taste of you as you fall apart beneath my teeth and tongue. Just as you did last night.”
“I have a confession as well,” she informed him in a sultry tone.
“I hope it’s a naughty one. Let’s hear it, dragonfly.”
“Only if you tell me why you call me that. Is it because I draw them?”
His breath went still at the question and he didn’t know if he could answer it truthfully.
“That’s part of it, yes. I’ll tell you the rest some other time,” he finally confessed.
“I want to know if you think of me when you’re alone.”
“I think of you all the time, not just when I’m alone.”
“What happens when you think of me?”
He took her hand and pressed it over the swell of his erection. “This is what happens,” he growled.
“Do you tend it? Or do you just box the imaginary foe in your workshop until it goes away?”
“What do you know about tending it?”
He watched her cheeks flame, but she didn’t back down. “Doesn’t it cause you pain if you don’t take care of it?”
