Free Improper Pleasures (The Pleasure Series #1) by Cheryl Howe

the mutual spark he thought had erupted
between them. “I won’t to do anything further to jeopardize our agreement.”
    “Very well, then.” She straightened and squared her
shoulders. “Shall we go to dinner? We are keeping the others waiting.”
    James bowed to keep from staring at the small white mounds
at her neckline and took her offered arm as if he were escorting his grandmother.
Though that didn’t stop him from stealing a tortuous glimpse at her forbidden
fruit. The sooner they completed their business of turning Eastlan around the
better. The longer he stayed, the harder it would be for him to keep his
word…and his hands off Astra.

CHAPTER FIVE
     
     
    Astra paused on the stone step and turned her bare face to
the sun. Two springs had passed since she’d walked through the village without
her black veil. She shielded her eyes from the unusually bright day to marvel
at the fat buds of the ash tree that shaded the church’s ancient slate roof.
    The arched front door swung open and Astra teetered,
almost losing her balance on the granite step. Reverend Fitzgerald darted the
short distance to right her. Astra smiled at the young parish priest. “Thank
you, Reverend Fitzgerald. I was just admiring the trees. The flowers should be
in full bloom for Easter.”
    A flash of deep purple caught Astra’s attention and she
spotted Ivy Templeton as she slipped past the weathered front door. Not that
Astra should be so taken aback. Despite her reputation, Ivy attended services
more faithfully than many parishioners, Astra included. Astra straightened and
met her old friend’s gaze. The hint of warm recognition that briefly softened
Ivy’s full mouth soon vanished. Ivy turned her face away from Astra as if she
had not been the one to stay up all night comforting her when Astra’s father
had passed away on her thirteenth birthday. Astra dropped her gaze to the
ancient church’s worn steps, unsure of how to delicately handle the
confrontation. Astra had turned away from Ivy in the village before but never
in such tight quarters.
    “Lady Keane, what a pleasure to receive a visit from you
during the week.”
    She glanced at Reverend Fitzgerald who brushed a thick chunk
of brown hair out of his eyes. He snuck a glance at Ivy before returning his
gaze to Astra. Reverend Fitzgerald could not have been but a few years younger
than Astra, but his sincere brown eyes always made Astra feel twice his age.
    Ivy descended the steps, her shoulders high. Astra turned
toward the ash tree, studying it as before, but this time no longer finding the
joy in the hundreds of pink-tinged buds.
    “Miss Templeton,” Reverend Fitzgerald said, foiling Ivy’s
escape, “thank you for stopping by. I realize you have no wish to reap earthly
reward for your good deeds, but you have done our parish a great service. I
will compose a letter to the artist you suggested without haste.”
    Astra’s curiosity won out over common sense and she
glanced in Ivy’s direction. Ivy nodded a curt acknowledgement. “No thanks are
necessary. Art is its own reward. Good day, Reverend.” Not realizing Astra had
chosen that moment to stop ignoring Ivy, her gaze collided with Astra’s and
they made intimate eye contact. An unguarded flash of regret shone in Ivy’s
eyes. Astra had almost forgotten the unique emerald color, but more
importantly, she had forgotten the kindness that had always lurked there.
    As if unable to give Astra the cut direct, something Ivy
had no doubt received many times since purchasing a house on the outskirts of
St. Keynes village, Ivy gave a tentative nod of greeting. She quickly turned
away, as if fully expecting Astra not to acknowledge her even while standing
less than two feet away.
    “Miss Templeton,” Astra called as if it were no more than
natural. Her confrontations with James must have emboldened her. Ivy stopped
then slowly turned to face Astra. “You have always had a keen eye for art and I
must wonder what