He shook his head. “The church doesn’t want a priest who isn’t a good fit. I’m only sorry it took me so long to figure out. I want to get married someday, but I’ll wait until I know it’s right, because there won’t be any going back on those vows. They will be carved in stone to last for all time.”

He loved the way she watched him with a mix of curiosity and admiration in her expression. Who could have imagined a Blackstone would ever look at him with admiration? He liked being worthy of her respect. She was so alluring that it made his blood pump faster, and he glanced around the room to distract himself. The colors were warm, woodland shades of maroon, sage, and brown, but they suited her.

Only one thing looked out of place. A framed print over the dining room sideboard looked like it had come from a child’s book. He stood to examine a picture from the Hansel and Gretel fairy tale that showed an older boy with his arm sheltering Gretel as he led her out of the darkened forest.

“Jasper and I fought endless battles over that picture,” Gwen said. “It was always my favorite picture when I was growing up, but he thought I needed to outgrow it. He said it reflected my unhealthy obsession with having an older brother. Maybe it does, but I don’t care. I wasn’t even born when Willy died, but I loved the idea of an older brother. Someone who would always look out for me.”

The longing in her voice hurt. Maybe this explained why she’d been so eager to believe Mick’s rabble-rousing nephew might be her long-lost brother. Patrick would give anything if he could deliver William Blackstone back to her, but that boy had been in a pauper’s grave for thirty years.

She placed a hand on his arm, her touch as light as a butterfly’s wing. “I’m sorry I dragged you out here so late in the evening.” Her voice was gently feminine, and he wanted to drown in it.

“You needed someone to lean on. I’m glad it could be me.”

The amber light overhead illuminated her face with a warm glow. The way she gazed up at him triggered all sorts of inappropriate cravings.

“You would have been a wonderful priest,” she said. The admiration in her gaze made him feel ten feet tall.

He leaned forward, lowering his head until his nose almost touched hers. “Mrs. K . . . I would have been a terrible priest.” Priests shouldn’t have this overwhelming attraction to a woman in need of comfort.