Clarissa could barely believe she had secretly married a man…a curate…by license at St Paul’s Church last evening. Not just any curate, but the masculine Reverend Francis Brody. The only man in the world she truly trusted. Her new best friend.
She felt dazed, but happy with the turn of events as she walked along the pavement, her hand through the crook of Francis’s arm. The rough wool of his coat over his hard muscles beneath exuded a pleasant warmth.
As soon as their meals were set before them, she leaned forward to tell him her news. “The whole cast of the show will be leaving town for a week to give a special performance for one of the Royal Dukes at another gentleman’s country estate. Our understudies will deliver the London performances in our absence.”
Francis swallowed. “Congratulations. I’m sure the duke will be suitably impressed by your performance.”
“Thank you. We depart in the morning.”
Francis blinked in surprise at her. “You’re leaving London tomorrow?”
She nodded and extended a hand to pat his. “And will return in a week. You won’t have time to miss me.” She winked and took up her knife and fork to attack her roast.
He briefly closed his eyes before leaning back in his seat. “That will give me time to find new accommodation for us.”
She wrinkled her nose. She would miss Francis’s comfortable bachelor rooms. “We cannot remain where we are?”
“It’s for gentlemen tenants only.” His face looked bleak.
She set down her cutlery. “I’m sorry to be the cause of your moving. Will you miss the place?” She squeezed his hand in sympathy, feeling guilty for causing such upheaval in his life.
His lips curved into a smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Not at all. We’ll be creating a new life together somewhere else.”
“I look forward to that,” she said. And to her surprise, she did.
Their meal finished, they walked home. She was keen to get out of the brisk breeze that blew from the Thames, and back to their cozy haven from reality.
Once there, Francis pulled her into his arms and kissed her cheek. “Good night, wife,” he murmured. “Sleep well.”
She rose on her tiptoes and kissed his cheek. “Good night, husband.” Warmth filled her heart at their easy familiarity. Their marriage of convenience was going to be a success. They were good friends already.
Snug in her bed and the belief that their marriage was off to a good start. Theycouldlive together in harmony. Clarissa slipped into a deep sleep.
Next morning, Francis insisted on escorting her to the theatre in time to meet the hired carriages departing for Kent. They were just about to leave his rooms in their daily attempt to creep from his lodgings unnoticed. Her hand turned the doorknob and the door began to open.
Francis pushed it closed and pulled her into his arms. “Aren’t you going to say goodbye to your husband?” he growled.
Clarissa laughed. “Of course.” She set one hand on his shoulder, and stretched up to kiss his cheek as she had done last night.
He leaned down, his mouth on a path to kiss her in the same avuncular way as last night.
A sudden yearning, to know exactly how his mouth felt on hers, gripped her and urged her to tempt her saintly husband. She turned her head. His warm, full lips, which had fascinated her for days, landed directly on hers.
She gasped and pulled back. They were as tantalizing as she had imagined. Her eyes locked onto his and found them full of hope.
He tilted his head slightly to one side in enquiry.
Curiosity and excitement filled her. She swayed closer, enticing him to respond.
Then his mouth lowered to meet hers. One brush of his lips against hers. Two. Three. Tingles exploded across her mouth and she drew back with a sigh of wonder.
She sought his eyes again. They were dark pools of warmth, holding her gaze. Something pulsed between them and her body tensed.
Francis leaned down, his head inching towards hers. To kiss her again?
Her heart skipped a beat. Mesmerized by his eyes, eager for his touch, she moved to meet him.
His hands cupped her cheeks.
