She pushed her fingers into the correct pocket, noting that she could feel the lines of his thigh, including the firm indent of muscle that ran diagonally across the front of his upper leg.
Rectus femoris, her mind whispered in an absurdly seductive drawl.
She cleared her throat, pushing the heel of her hand past the tight confine of the pocket seam and feeling her fingertips wrap around the little key, which she retrieved as quickly as she could while he continued to grin at her, watching her face through this entire maneuver from incredibly close range.
He released a soft little laugh at her little squeak of victory as she danced backward with her prize glinting in her hand.
“Well, don’t be so excited,” he chided. “That only makes me want to take it again. Let me put the food down and I’ll give you the files to put back in there.”
“I actually wanted to get that gift Vix gave me at the picnic,” she said, looking down at the key in her hand and wondering at how he might steal it next. “What do you think it is?”
He laughed outright then. “God only knows,” he said. “Bring it up to the classroom. We’ll open it over wine.”
He turned and moved to take the food up the stairs at that instruction, leaving her standing in the foyer, still a little shaken by her brief time existing within his pocket.
CHAPTER 18
Mae noted with a wry sense of amusement that her hands were wobbling again. It took a second longer than usual to line the little tines of the key up with their entry into the lock, and only then because her fingers cooperated after a click of disapproval from her tongue.
She had heard many times in her life, of course, that romance was a danger to any serious woman’s vocation, but she suspected that giving a healer unsteady hands had never been quite what that warning had meant.
It made her chuckle as she dug out the gift-wrapped box from her satchel and relocked the cabinet behind her, returning the key safely to the deepest pocket in her dress.
She supposed if ever she wanted to keep her hands perfectly still again, she could always try to wedge them back into the pockets of Roland Reed’s unnecessarily tight trousers.
Thatthought, of course, was not helpful, and her hand gave another ticking tremor as she reached for the bannister to beginto climb up to their dinner venue in the rearranged classroom upstairs.
To her surprise, she heard Roland’s voice as she neared the top.
He was standing in the nursery, she found, rounding the top of the stairs, the door hanging open, and he was holding one of the boxes he’d brought from the pub.
“These are a special treat,” he said, pointing to the sausage-and-cheese-stuffed bread rolls inside. “And they come with a price. No wandering through the clinic after dark tonight. Are we in accord?”
She paused, her hand going still as it hovered above the railing and she listened for the answer.
“We don’t,” a small voice said.
“You won’t,” he corrected. “And I shan’t tell Miss Casper about what you’ve already done on nights past, hm?”
She blinked a few times at the chorus of agreement and thanks that followed. She was so taken aback by it that she forgot to resume motion or otherwise look like she wasn’t actively eavesdropping when he emerged, shutting the nursery door behind him.
His eyes fell on her with an immediate and easy grin.
“Precautions,” he said with a little shrug.
“Evidently necessary ones,” she managed to reply, stepping forward as he gestured toward the classroom.
He gave a chuckle, setting warm, easy fingers on the small of her back as he guided her toward the table, where he’d already set out the food on their plates and poured the wine. “It’s harmless,really. They sit in a huddle at the top of the stairs and dare each other to go down into the dark one at a time. I don’t think they realize there are patients in the infirmary, so the only explanation, of course, is ghosts.”
She turned sharply toward him at that, making him laugh again.
“Ghosts are a normal part of child group dynamics,” he assured her. “Do you prefer the duck or the thimble for your seat, my lady?”
“Oh, a choice,” she said, raising her brows. “I shall take the duck for the duration of the meal, but only because I know you so covet the company of the thimble.”
“Ah,” he said, leading her to the seat and pulling it out. “You’re mistaken. It’s your company I covet, Miss Casper.”
She giggled at that. “Is this another mask you wear, Roland?” she teased, taking up her wine as he sauntered over to his side of the table and took his own place. “The dashing gentleman?”
