Sainted

by Slade, Heather

  “Did your family know anyone?” I asked when Saint appeared introspective.

  “They did.”

  When he didn’t elaborate, I didn’t ask any further questions.

  “I’m quite famished,” he said as we walked out of the gardens and crossed another street. I had no idea where we were or how far we’d gone from his flat. “Fancy a bite to eat?”

  While I’d had no appetite earlier, I was surprisingly very hungry now. “I’d love it.”

  Saint chose a place with outdoor seating, stating it was a warm day by London standards.

  “Anything sound good, or shall we share a few of the small plates?”

  “Sharing sounds perfect. If you don’t mind.”

  “Not at all.”

  I closed my eyes and turned my face toward the sun, happy to let Saint order when the waiter approached our table.

  “What is this?” I asked when he returned a few minutes later and set a drink in front of me.

  “It’s called a Garibaldi Spritz. A bit of Campari, along with blood orange and cherry liqueurs, a dash of citrus sherbet, and a splash of prosecco.”

  I laughed. “I don’t know what any of that is except the sherbet.”

  “Let me know if you like it.”

  I took a sip and groaned. “It’s so good.” Once again, the way he looked at me and smiled unnerved me.

  “I knew you’d enjoy it.”

  “If the food you ordered is half as good, I’ll be in heaven.” As soon as I’d uttered the words, I felt silly. I’m sure Saint thought I was horribly unsophisticated. My cheeks flushed again, and I looked down at the peach-colored napkin on my lap.

  “Harper?” When I looked up, Saint had leaned forward, his elbows on the table.

  “Yes?”

  “You are lovely.” Evidently, he’d picked up on my insecurity.

  “Thanks,” I said, rolling my eyes. “I know I’m unsophistified.”

  He cocked his head.

  “A simpleton? Right off the farm? Or the plane, I suppose.”

  “You are none of those things.” His gaze was so intense, I had to look away. When I did, he put his finger on my chin and turned my head toward him. “You are lovely,” he repeated.

  As much as I wanted to look away, I kept my eyes riveted to his. “Thank you.”

  “That’s better.” He sat back when the waiter approached with two plates.

  “The beef carpaccio with shaved truffle and Parmesan and the peppered calamari, sir.”

  When Saint motioned in my direction, the waiter put a bit of each on the small plate in front of me.

  “Bon appétit!” he said before walking away after Saint said he’d serve himself.

  I’d had calamari before but had no idea what beef carpaccio was except that it looked like paper-thin slices of raw meat. I used one of the small forks to gently scoop a piece from the plate to my mouth. For the second time since we arrived at the restaurant, I groaned.

  “Like it?” Saint asked, flashing one of his megawatt smiles.

  “I’m not sure I want to know what it is, but it’s so good.” I was pretty sure I’d used the exact words to describe my drink. “I assure you, I do possess a better vocabulary. I graduated from college, after all.”

  “You’re as delightful as you are beautiful.”

  Beautiful? He’d said I was lovely, but not beautiful. I closed my eyes momentarily and gave God a prayer of thanks. If there was ever a time in my life when I needed a handsome, charming, and terribly sophisticated man to tell me I was beautiful, today was the day. It did wonders to take away the sting of what Dave had done to me, even if only temporarily.

  “Thank you.” I looked down at my napkin for the second time.

  My head snapped up when I heard Saint groan.

  8

  Saint

  Every time Harper’s cheeks flushed and she looked away, I was certain her intention wasn’t to display submissiveness; nevertheless, my cock disagreed with my evaluation.

  “What?” she asked with those wide, doe-like eyes that only served to make my trousers that much more uncomfortable. If there was ever any question of my rakishness, it was well illustrated now. How I wanted the young woman seated beside me in my bed, where I would pleasure her in ways she probably had no idea existed!

  When she’d placed the slivered beef on her tongue moments ago, I was dizzy with the desire to feel it tangling with my own. More, to see her kneeling before me as my hardness eased between her lips. I had no doubt I’d be the first man to experience such a gift from her.

  “Are you okay?” she asked when I wiped my brow with the handkerchief I’d removed from my pocket.

  “Fine, fine. Quite warm out here on the terrace.”

  She nodded as if she accepted my excuse. “You’d never last in Nashville, especially in the summer. There were days when I couldn’t bear the idea of putting clothes on.”

  “And what did you do instead?” I heard myself ask as though my brain had somehow gone off on its own with a very inappropriate line of questioning. Or perhaps it was my penis doing the talking.

  She laughed. “Well, I had to get dressed. I could hardly parade around town naked.”

  I was in a serious muddle. I couldn’t very well get up and leave the table, given the state of my straining zipper. A change of subject was in order, but I’d be damned if I could think of a single thing to say that would steer the course of this conversation in a better direction.

  “I doubt my Christian leadership professors would have appreciated that.”

  And there it was. It was as though an ice-cold bath had landed in my lap. I breathed an audible sigh of relief when my trousers immediately felt looser. “No, I don’t suppose that would’ve gone over.”

  The waiter returned with the other two dishes I’d ordered—sizzling shrimp served with warm ciabatta and oven-baked lobster with a chili-herb crust. I laughed, imagining my mother’s look of dismay at the amount of seafood on the table. She’d never been the fan of it my father and I had been.

  Thinking about my mum immediately reminded me of her brother, further casting a chill on the heat I’d felt moments ago.

  Thus, I was able to finish our meal, along with dessert, without further carnal thoughts of Miss Godfrey.

  “I don’t think I can stay awake much longer,” she said in the lift carrying us up to my flat. I checked the time and saw it was late enough in the day that going to bed now—sleep, not sex—wouldn’t affect her as adversely as it would have earlier, and I said so.

  “I should probably call Mouse first.”

  “Mouse?” I asked when the doors opened into the foyer of my flat.

  “My best friend. Her name is Mary, but everyone has called her Mouse for as long as I can remember.”

  “What about you? What’s your pet name?” Pet? God, what was bloody wrong with me?

  “I don’t have one. Harper was always odd enough that no one thought it was really my name. Some of the boys called me Harpo when they found out it was.”

  It was evident that the moniker bothered her. I found myself wanting to punish every person who’d hurt her—including the dickmonger. Especially him.

  Which, if I gave in to my desires and seduced her, would be at the top of the list.

  “Just great,” she huffed.

  “What?”

  She held up her mobile. “No service. Could he really have shut my phone off?”

  “Likely not,” I assured her. “It’s the building. I should’ve suggested you make the call while we were still outdoors.” I followed her gaze to the window, where I saw it was raining. “You can use mine,” I offered, pulling it from my trouser pocket and checking for any messages before handing it over to her.

  “Are you sure?”

  “By all means.”

  I kept myself busy in the kitchen, trying my hardest not to eavesdrop on Harper’s conversation with her friend. Not that I didn’t want to. Mainly, I wanted to know whether she was sti
ll planning to leave as soon as she could. I doubted it would be tonight, but tomorrow was a distinct possibility.

  When she came out a few minutes later, I was seated with a circular open but hadn’t read a single word.

  “Um, you missed a call from someone named Cherry. Don’t worry, I didn’t answer. She may have sent a photo text too.”

  Whereas I’d seen her cheeks look flushed before, now they were burning red.

  “My apologies,” I muttered.

  Harper turned on her heel. I waited until I heard the bedroom door close before looking at the image she’d obviously seen.

  “Bloody hell.” It could have been far worse, though. Instead of what I expected, Cherry had sent a relatively tame—for her—cleavage shot with a message reading, “Miss these?”

  As I should’ve done long ago, I blocked her number. I didn’t need to worry that she’d show up here. First, she’d never get past the lift’s security. Second, Harper was the only woman who’d been in my flat, other than Miss Bardwell, since my mother passed away. Well, and Eliza, of course.

  That was my rule. I never brought women home. If we couldn’t have a shag at their place, there were plenty of London hotels that suited.

  I walked down the corridor, knowing I owed Harper an apology but having no idea how to broach it. I was almost past her door when I heard her crying. I turned around and knocked softly.

  “Yes? Just a minute.”

  I smiled when I heard her blow her nose and recalled how she’d done the same on the plane. The woman was maddeningly endearing.

  She opened the door not much more than a crack.

  “I wanted to apologize for the inappropriate message you witnessed.”

  “I tried not to look…”

  “How could you not? Anyway, I’m sorry.”

  “You did warn me you were a rake.”

  “Yes, well, trying to mend those ways…” I gave her a self-deprecating grin. “How did the conversation turn out with your friend?”

  She opened the door a bit more and walked over to the window. I took that as an invitation and followed.

  “She wants to kill Dave, as you can imagine.”

  “A sentiment I share.”

  That appeared to surprise her, but she didn’t comment.

  “She asked when I planned to come home. I didn’t want to tell her about the plane ticket. She can’t afford to help me, but she’d try anyway.”

  “A good friend to you, then.”

  “The best.”

  “What did you tell her?”

  “I said I wasn’t sure, that I might do some sightseeing since I was already here.”

  “Does she know where you’re staying?”

  For the second time, her cheeks turned a bright shade of red, not as becoming as the pink I’d grown so fond of. “I didn’t tell her the whole truth.”

  “No?”

  “I said you were married and that you and your wife took me in.”

  “I see.”

  “I hope you’re not angry.”

  “Not in the slightest. It will likely save me from being second on the list of people your friend intends to murder.”

  Harper smiled, exhibiting her adorable dimples.

  “So. Sightseeing tomorrow? Where shall we start?”

  “Oh! You don’t have to show me around. I can go off on my own.”

  I shook my head and walked closer. “There is no way I’d consent to let you go off on your own, as you put it. While many areas in London are perfectly safe, some are not.”

  “I’m sure you have other things you need to be doing.”

  “Actually, I don’t.” I shrugged.

  Her eyes widened. “That’s right. I’m sorry. I forgot you lost your job.”

  “No need for you to be sorry. Although, a few days spent showing you the sights would definitely raise my spirits.” I pretend-pouted, earning myself another of her smiles. “Will you allow me, then?”

  “I don’t know about a few days. Maybe one day.”

  I pouted again, and she rolled her eyes.

  “Shall I plan an outing, then?”

  Harper nodded. “If you wouldn’t mind. I like it when you take charge. I mean, then, I don’t have to think. I have so much on my mind, and I really don’t know anything about London or flying or…anything.”

  I had no idea what my visible reaction might have been that caused her to so quickly backpedal, but I took it as my cue to leave her room before I did something I knew I’d regret—something like pulling her into my arms and kissing her.

  I turned to leave. “Sleep well, Harper.”

  “Saint?”

  I looked over my shoulder.

  “Thank you for everything. You’ve been so kind to me. I honestly don’t know what I would’ve done…” Her eyes filled with tears, and I was powerless to stop myself from embracing her.

  “Shh.” I took off her glasses, set them on the bed, and smoothed her hair. “I’m here, so there’s no need to think about that.” I pulled out my handkerchief but thought better of it since I’d used it to wipe my brow earlier.

  Harper took a step back. “You’re so kind. Too kind. Thank you.”

  I nodded, walked to the door, and wished her a good night for a second time before returning to the living room and pouring myself a finger of brandy. Once that was gone, I added two more.

  Sleep would not come easy, knowing she was in bed only steps away. My God, she was beguiling.

  “You are sorely tempting me,” I muttered, looking up at the ceiling. “Is that what this is, or is it penance?”

  9

  Harper

  I stood with my ear to the door, listening and wondering if, now that he’d said good night, Saint would return Cherry’s call. It was ridiculous of me to hope he wouldn’t. Beyond ridiculous, actually. I only prayed that when he did, he wouldn’t invite her over. God, how horrible would it be to have to listen to him having sex? Especially since I hadn’t. Ever.

  The thought of that alone was enough to bring me back to tears. By now, I should’ve been a married woman, finally losing my virginity. Instead, I was in a stranger’s home, in a foreign country, with no money besides the little bit of cash I’d brought with me. My credit cards were at their limit, I’d decided against calling my mother since she didn’t have the means anyway, and I had no idea how my father would react when I called to ask him to loan me what I needed for a plane ticket home.

  He’d probably force me to listen to a lecture about how I shouldn’t have come in the first place. It wouldn’t matter to him that when I made the decision, I thought I had plenty of money of my own, not to mention a round-trip ticket.

  My dad had always liked Dave. In fact, there were times I thought he liked him more than me. I wondered how he’d react when he learned what my ex-fiancé had done. Perhaps I should reconsider asking my mother for the money.

  Once I got back to the States, I could return to Nashville and the job I’d had, waitressing at one of the nicest restaurants in Twelve South, the city’s hottest neighborhood. I’d made good tips there—enough that I could pay my mother back within a couple of months if that was the route I decided to take.

  Of course that meant I’d have to try to get my room back, in the house I’d shared near the university. This late in the fall semester, there wouldn’t be many people looking to rent rooms. By January, though, that would change. But for that, I’d need rent money.

  I got in bed and stared up at the ceiling of Saint’s amazing apartment, err, flat. Were they the same thing? He said he was fortunate that it had been handed down through his family, which must mean he owned it.

  I wondered if I could get a job here in England. Was that even legal? If so, I’d be able to afford my own plane ticket home. On the other hand, where would I live? It was simply too much to think about. The first step, though, would be to look into whether a tourist could get a work permit. If anyone would know, Saint certainly would since he’d worked for MI6.
>
  It seemed so unfair that he’d lost his job. Although he had said it was over a botched mission, not because he’d had sex with someone’s assistant, I wondered if someone had an axe to grind against him.

  I tossed and turned for what felt like several hours but was probably less than one. I hadn’t heard any noise coming from outside the bedroom for quite a while, not that I could say exactly how long it had been. I sat up to look for a clock but didn’t see one. I also didn’t remember seeing a water glass in the bathroom.

  Surely, Saint wouldn’t mind if I went to the kitchen to get one. I tiptoed out of the room, being as quiet as I could so as not to disturb him, and went in the direction of a light that looked like it was coming from the kitchen.

  “Harper?”

  I nearly screamed when I heard Saint say my name. I spun around but didn’t see him. “Where are you?”

  “Over here.”

  I followed the sound of his voice. “Why are you sitting in the dark?”

  “Why are you walking about my flat nearly naked?”

  I looked down at the only thing I’d brought to sleep in. I’d planned to wear the lace nightie on my wedding night.

  “I wanted a glass of water.” Instead, I turned and started in the direction of the bedroom.

  “You’ve forgotten something.”

  My eyes had adjusted to the light, and I could see him better now. He was seated in a chair. The dress shirt he’d been wearing was open, exposing his bare chest. He’d taken his shoes and socks off too and was slouched down, holding a glass in one hand.

  “What?”

  “Your glass of water?”

  “I changed my mind. I’ll be okay without it.” Something felt off. Maybe I’d woken him. I was almost at the bedroom door when I heard him speak again.

  “There’s no need to be afraid of me, Harper.” I hadn’t realized he’d gotten up and was now so close to me that I could smell the liquor on his breath. “You know I wouldn’t hurt you.”