British Bachelors: Tempting & New. Liz Fielding

      ‘No, nothing like that. As a matter of fact, everyone was very sad about it. But it turned out the tower just wasn’t strong enough to support them any longer.’

      He frowned. ‘That sounds serious.’

      ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘It is. Very. But it’s not your problem. Now, if you’ll excuse me...’

      ‘To do what? Count the hymn books?’ He paused. ‘Or change the altar flowers, perhaps.’ His faint smile did not reach his eyes. ‘They must be past their best by now.’

      Tavy’s face warmed. ‘The flowers aren’t my responsibility,’ she said, replacing the kneeler.

      ‘Tell me, do you recycle all your unwanted bouquets in this way?’

      ‘I don’t get flowers as a rule.’ She gave him a defiant look. ‘As I said—I assumed it was a mistake.’

      He said silkily, ‘But one that won’t be repeated, if that’s any reassurance.’

      ‘And now I’ll go,’ she went on. ‘And let you return to sketching.’

      ‘I’ve done enough for one morning. I’ll drive you back to the Vicarage instead.’

      Oh, no, she fretted silently. It was still much too early for that.

      ‘Thanks, but I’m not going straight home.’

      ‘Ah,’ he said. ‘Could I be interrupting some assignation?’

      Her breath caught. ‘Please don’t be absurd.’

      He said slowly, brows lifting, ‘Anyway, you work on Saturday mornings. Is that why you’re lurking in here—hiding away—because you’re skiving off? Playing truant from school?’ He tutted. ‘What would your father say?’

      She said hoarsely, ‘I’m more concerned about how he’ll react when he hears I’ve been fired. Thrown out on my ear.’ Her voice cracked suddenly. ‘Just as if things weren’t bad enough already.’

      And, all her good intentions suddenly blown, she sank down on to the pew and began to cry. Not just a flurry of tears but harsh, racking sobs that burnt her throat, and which she could not control.

      And in front of him. Of all people.

      She would never recover from the shame of it. Or from the knowledge that he was now sitting beside her. That his arm was round her, pulling her to him so that her wet face was buried against his shoulder. So that she was inhaling the warm musk of his skin through the fabric of his shirt with every uneven gasping breath, as she struggled for composure, and for a semblance of sanity, as she realised his free hand was stroking her hair, gently and rhythmically.

      When the sobs eventually choked into silence, she drew away, and he released her instantly, passing her an immaculate linen handkerchief.

      Sitting rigidly upright, she blotted her face, and blew her nose, trying to think of something to say.

      But all that she could come up with was a mumbled, ‘I’m sorry.’

      ‘What do you have to apologise for? I’d have thought the boot was on quite a different foot.’

      ‘I mean I’m sorry for making such a fool of myself.’

      ‘You’ve had a shock.’ His tone was matter-of-fact. ‘Under the circumstances, I’d say tears were a normal human reaction.’ He paused. ‘So what were the grounds for your dismissal? Have you had the usual verbal and written warnings?’

      Tavy shook her head. ‘Nothing like that. She just told me I wasn’t up to the job as she saw it, handed me a cheque and told me to go.’ She swallowed another sob. ‘But what’s going to happen to the office? She has no idea about the computer. I don’t think she even knows how to switch it on.’

      ‘I wouldn’t worry. I’m sure she has your successor already in place.’ He watched her absorb that, and nodded. ‘However she’s driven a horse and cart through your statutory rights. You could take her to a tribunal.’

      Tavy shuddered. ‘No—I really couldn’t. I simply want to find another job and get on with my life.’

      He was silent for a moment, then: ‘So what else has gone wrong?’

      She looked around her. ‘It’s this,’ she said in a low voice. ‘Dad’s church. It needs thousands of pounds in repairs, and the diocese can’t afford it. We were hoping for a reprieve but it’s going to be closed. So we’ll be leaving.’

      She swallowed. ‘She—Mrs Wilding—told me so, as part of her justification for getting rid of me. She knows the Archdeacon.’

      There was a silence, then Jago said softly, ‘She’s a real piece of work, your ex-boss. I wouldn’t want a daughter of mine to go to her school.’

      A daughter of mine...

      Something that was almost pain twisted deep inside her, as she tried to imagine him as a father—and, of course, a husband, which was ludicrous with his track record. He could never settle for anything so conventional, she told herself vehemently. And heaven help anyone who hoped he’d change.

      ‘Well, there’s no chance of that,’ she said with sudden crispness, as she rallied herself. ‘She thinks you’re Satan’s less nice brother.’

      ‘Then maybe I should immediately withdraw from this sacred place to more appropriate surroundings,’ he drawled. ‘Come with me to the pub and have a drink. I think you could use one.’

      ‘No,’ she said, too quickly. ‘Thank you, but I really should get back and talk to Dad. It won’t help to delay things.’

      He walked beside her as she wheeled her bike down to the gate.

      ‘Tell me,’ he said. ‘What does your boyfriend think of his mother’s decision?’

      Tavy bit her lip. ‘I—I don’t think he knows.’

      ‘How convenient.’

      The note of contempt in his voice stung.

      She turned on him. ‘Patrick will be devastated when he hears,’ she said hotly. ‘And, anyway, just what business is it of yours? How dare you walk into this village, making assumptions, passing judgements on people you barely know?’

      ‘Because outsiders can often see the whole picture,’ Jago returned, unruffled. ‘Whereas you, my sweet, are incapable of looking further than the end of your charming nose.’

      ‘You know nothing,’ she hurled back at him, her voice shaking. ‘Nothing at all. You’ve mixed in dirt for so long, you can’t recognise or appreciate decency.’

      ‘Ah,’ he said softly. ‘Back to that, are we? If that’s the case, what do I have to lose?’

      One stride brought him within touching distance, his fingers gripping her slender shoulders, rendering her immobile. He bent his head and his mouth took hers in a long hard kiss that sent strange echoes reverberating through every nerve of her body, and sent the world spinning helplessly out of synch.

      His lips urged hers apart, allowing his tongue to invade her mouth’s inner sweetness and explore it with a fierce and sensual insistence totally unlike his previous gentleness. It was impossible to breathe—to think. Or, even, to resist...

      At the same time, his hands slid down to her hips, jerking her forward, grinding her slender body against his. Making her shockingly aware that he was passionately and shamelessly aroused.

      And, worse still, making her want to press even closer to him. To wind her arms round his neck and feel the silky gloss of his hair under her fingers. To make the kiss last for ever...

      When he finally released her, she was trembling inside, with fury that she had not been the one to step back first, and disbelief at her body’s own reaction to this stark introduction to desire.

      She