by Jane Charles
It was too much to take in. Everything fit into place, but Grace couldn’t bring herself to accept the facts, though in her heart she knew they were true.
“I am the one who made up the story of being locked in the cellar.”
“And the real reason you left that day?” Vicar Trent asked.
“I couldn’t remain in this house and live with the guilt of what I had done.”
“Yet you came back, tonight?” Grace asked.
“Yes. The guilt wasn’t any easier at home.” Mrs. Thomas looked at her husband. His smile was kind.
Vicar Trent stood. “What if someone would have been arrested for the attempted murder of Mr. Cooper? An innocent man could have gone to the gallows.”
“No.” Perkins shook his head. “As much as I wished to protect Miss Cooper and her father, I would have never allowed that to happen. That is why I kept his original note. Just in case it was needed.”
Vicar Trent paced across the room and poured a glass of brandy. She had never seen him drink anything other than tea. She wished for a glass herself. Perhaps it would calm her and bring clarity. He turned to look at her and as if reading her mind, he poured another and handed it to her.
She smiled up at him gratefully and took a sip. He returned to pacing before the fireplace. “What you say makes sense and I am glad we know the truth.”
“I am relieved as well,” Perkins announced.
“Yet, that does beg the question,” said Vicar Trent.
“Who tried to kill me tonight?”
The clock in the hall chimed twice, startling Grace. They had not left the room, though the occupants were tiring. “I think Mr. and Mrs. Thomas should remain here for the rest of the night, or at least what is left of it.”
Perkins stood. “I’ll see that a room is prepared.”
“Rubbish.” Mrs. Thomas came to her feet. “I was the housekeeper here until a few days ago. I know what room can be used.” She turned and held her hand out to her husband. “Come along. I could sleep for a week now.”
“It does help when a conscious is eased,” Vicar Trent offered, yet there was no anger in his tone. Grace wasn’t angry either. As much as she hated what her father had done, he had tricked Perkins and Mrs. Thomas into helping him. She didn’t know if she could live with herself if she were in their place. But, had she been at home instead of in town trying to find out when the meeting would be, this wouldn’t have happened at all because her father would not have tried to end his life while she was in the house.
Grace rose to follow them, pulling the blanket tightly round her body. Vicar Trent was close to her side, carrying a small lamp.
“Goodnight,” Perkins announced and walked off toward her father’s room.
“Will you be alright?” Vicar Trent asked her.
Her hands began to shake the moment she touched the bannister and put her foot on the first step. Could she return to the room? What if that man came back? Would anyone hear her or would she be safe.
“Could you check the doors and windows please?”
Vicar Trent nodded and went to the front door first. Grace sank down on the step. She couldn’t go up there until she knew she was safe.
It seemed to take forever before he returned. “I checked every window and door. Everything is secure.”
Grace pulled herself to her feet and began walking up the steps. Her feet felt like they were laden with led. Was it safe upstairs? What if someone had gotten in while they were in her father’s bedroom? The front door had not been locked.
She paused at the top of the stairs. “I hate to be a ninny, but could you check this floor as well?”
He smiled softly at here. “You should go to bed first.”
“No.” She would not be trapped in her room in case someone was in the house.”
“Very well.” Vicar Trent went to the first room.
“Mr. & Mrs. Thomas will be in there.”
Vicar Trent nodded and went to the next room. He disappeared for a moment and was back. “That room is clear and the windows locked.”
Grace followed him down the hall and back, stopping at the threshold of each room as he went in to check. This was such a childish thing to do. It wasn’t as if there were monsters hiding beneath the bed or in the closet, but could she be sure there wasn’t a murderer still in the house? Vicar Trent probably thought she was the biggest ninny he had ever met.
Finally they came to her room. He entered, opened doors to closets and her armoire before checking the windows. “It is safe, you can come in.”
She scampered across the room, glass crunching beneath her slippers and she jumped on the bed and stilled. One of her pillows was on the floor, lamp oil soaking into the fabric. It would be ruined now. But did she really want that pillow any longer? Someone tried to kill her with it.
“I’ll get something to sweep that up.”
She stared at the broken lamp on the floor. It was the only light for her room, not that it did her any good now. If Vicar Trent left she would be in darkness but she couldn’t very well let him wander the house without a lamp. He might fall down the stairs like Papa. Why was she so weak and scared all of a sudden? Why now, when she needed to be strong and self-reliant for herself and her father.
Vicar Trent came forward and sat on the bed. “What is wrong?”
She looked up and met his eyes. “Please don’t leave.”
He studied her for a moment, his jaw clenching and unclenching. “I don’t think that is wise.”
“Why?”
He brought his hand up and cradled her face. “If anyone learned, you would be ruined, despite the circumstances.”
“Who is going to know? Mr. and Mrs. Thomas will never say anything.”
“I don’t think it is wise.”
She didn’t want to beg him but she was afraid to be alone. “Please?”
How could he say no to Grace? Her eyes were wide with fear and who wouldn’t be afraid after what she had been through. But, did he dare remain in her bedroom overnight? No. He wasn’t that strong. He wasn’t that good. He was a vicar but he was also a man, not immune to the temptation. And nothing tempted him more at this moment seeing her sitting in her bed, in her white nightgown that even though it covered her from neck to toes, still hinted at the body it hid. Her hair was mussed from earlier sleep and this situation was far too inviting. It was all he could do not to lean forward and taste her lips. He had wanted to kiss her for days but had remained in control and kept a firm grasp on his desires. The will to be good, be perfect was quickly slipping from his grasp and Matthew feared if he remained here one more moment he would do what came naturally. He had no right to take advantage of Grace and that is exactly what he would do in this circumstance. He shouldn’t even be having these thoughts given what she had been through these past couple of days. A man tried to kill Miss Cooper tonight and all he could think of was bedding her. What kind of man was he? What kind of vicar was the better question?
Matthew sprung from the bed. He needed to put distance between her and him before it was too late. The glass crunched beneath his boot. She was in danger and vulnerable. He would not be the one to harm her this night, or take advantage. Seduction would be easy in this circumstance and he couldn’t believe he even let the word flit across his mind.
Turning on his heel he stalked across the room and pinched the bridge of his nose before he stared out at the night. How could he have fallen so quickly and so easily into lust? If he were Jordan, he wouldn’t have left the bed but seduced her instead. But he wasn’t Jordan; he was the vicar and should not be having lustful thoughts about a parishioner.
“Vicar Trent?”
He turned to look at Grace. She watched him. Her brow marred with concern. “Yes?”
“Is something wrong?”
Yes! “No, why do you ask?”
“You never answered my question. Will you stay with me tonight?”
He looked around the room for a safe place to remain. Ye
s he would stay with her, but not on the bed or even near it. He wasn’t that strong. A cushioned chair was placed beside the fireplace. It looked comfortable enough, not that he would get a wink of sleep. He marched over to it and settled down. “I will remain here.”
Her brow creased. “Are you sure you will be comfortable?”
No! “I will be fine. You should rest.”
With one last look at him, Grace lay down and pulled the cover up to her chin. “Do you mind if we leave the lamp on?”
“Not at all.” Now he knew he wouldn’t get any sleep. This was going to be the longest night of his life. He looked around the room for something to read. There was nothing and he leaned his head back and closed his eyes. He needed to think of anything or everything except about Grace sleeping in her virginal bed. Such thoughts were dangerous. He almost laughed out loud. His breeches were so uncomfortable now with lust and desire from the thoughts of what he wished to do with her he wouldn’t get a wink of sleep.
It had been so long since he had not been able to ignore his desires; Matthew wasn’t sure what to do. When one lived alone, when he suffered from moments of physical urges, he usually could ignore and it would go away. Such would not be the case tonight.
Perhaps he should open a window, or better yet, go stand outside in the cold air. That should cool his loins, hopefully.
He shifted in his seat and glanced over at Grace. It was the wrong thing to do. Her hair was fanned out on the pillow; her full lips parted slightly, her dark lashes brushed against her ivory skin. The blanket had been moved from her shoulder to her waist and he could see the darkness of a nipple pressed against the thin fabric, tight across her breast. Matthew groaned and shifted. His clothing was unbearably tight.
Well, at least one of them had found slumber quickly enough. The same would not be the same for him.
Given she was asleep; he stood so that he could adjust his clothing. Had she been awake, he would have done everything in his power to hide the erection his clothes did not mask. But Grace was sound asleep, completely unaware of the affect she had on him.
She moaned and rolled to her back. Now he had two breasts claiming his attention and even though they were clothed, it didn’t take away the desire he had to mold them in his hands, and taste.
Pivoting on his heel, Matthew put his back to Grace. This was wrong, so very wrong. He was a vicar. She was a parishioner. Vicars did not lust after parishioners. Especially parishioners who didn’t lust after them and were innocent.
He was going to burn. Surely as there was a God, he was going to burn for the thoughts and desires he entertained this night.
Grace moaned again, and the sound shot straight to his groin. She was asleep, he reminded himself. Not responding to his touch, though he wished that were the case. And he was a fool. She had not given any indication that she was interested in him as a man or for anything other than her minister. She would probably laugh herself silly if she had any indication of what he wanted, desired. He would never tell her because then she wouldn’t feel nearly as comfortable around him. She already had three men pursuing her that she did not want; he would not be the fourth.
“No.”
The words were barely audible and Matthew turned toward the bed.
Grace began thrashing, slowly at first. It wasn’t a surprise she would suffer from nightmares after tonight.
Matthew moved to the bed to touch her shoulder. He gently shook her, wanting to wake her. Grace moved away from him.
“No,” she cried out again.
This time Matthew grasped both of her shoulders and leaned in. “Miss Cooper, it is I, Vicar Trent.”
She tried to jerk out of his grasp.
“Wake up, you are having a nightmare.”
She struggled a few moments more before her eyes slowly opened and looked up at him. Confusion marred her brow before her eyes lit with recognition. Before Matthew could react, her arms went around his neck and she drew him down to her until their lips touched.
He should pull away. She couldn’t be awake and be aware of her actions. Yet, as much as he argued with himself, he didn’t break contact and his arms slipped around her waist and pulled her close. Miss Cooper’s nails dug into his shoulders, as if she needed something desperately to hold onto. A moment later her hands relaxed and slid into the hair at the back of his head. Matthew melted, this was his weakness. He would agree to almost anything if a woman threaded her fingers through his hair. He tilted his head and traced the seam of her lips until she opened slightly. Before she could close he delved into the heat and pulled her even tighter against his body.
This was wrong. What was he doing? He was her vicar.
He was a man
No, this is wrong. She is vulnerable and had no idea what she was doing. The flame she set to smoldering was ready to ignite if he didn’t smoother it soon.
Miss Cooper moaned and Matthew was lost. Her tongue hesitantly mated with his, and then became more bold. They were melded together in a heady kiss that Matthew was reluctant to end. By the grip she had on his head, she wasn’t about to let him go either.
Though clothing separated them, her breast burned his chest and he imagined he could feel her tight nipples against him. They were wearing too much clothing so he wasn’t all that certain. He ached with need. It was much worse than earlier when he watched her slumber. His desire for her bordered on painful and if he didn’t get some form of relief he could possibly expire from it, or be very uncomfortable for several hours. He had ached this badly once, when he was younger and there was no relief, save himself, but he had been told that it was wrong to do such a thing so he suffered. Such would be the case tonight because he knew he wouldn’t go so far as to join with Miss Cooper and he knew he would need to rely on himself in the end.
As if his hand had a will of its own, it snaked around the front of her body, caressing her ribcage, slowly moving up until it cradled the full, round globe. He tested the heaviness and brushed a thumb across the erect nipple as he broke the kiss and moved his lips across her jaw line as Miss Cooper’s head fell back. Anticipating the taste of her, he continued kissing down the side of her neck and Miss Cooper groaned. His lips met the edge of her nightgown and Matthew began to unloosen the top buttons.
What was he doing? If he didn’t stop this madness now he would have her naked and beneath him before either of them comprehended what was occurring. He would not, and could not take Miss Cooper’s innocence.
He rested his head against her shoulder and tried to gain control of his breathing and his body. What kind of man was he? Her father lay downstairs close to death. Someone came into the house and tried to kill her and Mr. and Mrs. Thomas were just down the hall. She was vulnerable and he was taking advantage of her.
Matthew pulled back and rebuttoned her gown. She straightened and looked at him.
“I am sorry,” Matthew whispered.
She frowned for a moment and then her eyes grew wide as all color left her face. “Oh dear, what must you think of me.”
“I think you are a lovely and desirable woman,” Matthew wasn’t certain what he should say. Was she embarrassed or hurt or angry. He was never very good at understanding the feminine gender and it wasn’t like he was given many opportunities, especially in situations such as this. Perhaps if it hadn’t been ten years since he had been intimate with a woman he would have a better understanding.
“I behaved like a wanton?”
Matthew chuckled. “I wouldn’t call you wanton?”
“What would you call a woman who throws herself at her vicar, while in her bed?”
Matthew chuckled. Though the description did sound a bit promiscuous, he wouldn’t describe her as such. “Vulnerable, scared, lonely?”
“That is worse.” Tears welled in her eyes.
What had he said wrong?
“You only kissed me because you felt sorry for me after I threw myself at you.”
“On that point you are wrong.”
/> She blew out a breath and crossed her arms over her chest. “You are just being kind because you are a vicar.”
Matthew wanted to laugh. “There is nothing kind in my motivation in kissing you back.”
Confusion marred her brow and Matthew cradled her chin in his hand. “Do you have any idea how long I have wanted to kiss you? There are all manner of things I wish to do, but won’t because you are an innocent young woman.”
She bit her bottom lip and it took everything in his being not to kiss her again.
“And if I don’t leave right now, you are in danger of far more than kisses and caresses from me.”
“But you are a vicar. A perfect gentleman.”
Matthew gripped her chin tighter, but not enough to cause a mark or hurt her, and looked deep in her eyes. “Know this, Miss Cooper, I am a man and at this moment I am not feeling the least bit gentlemanly nor much of a vicar.”
Her eyes grew wide. “You wanted to kiss me?” Her voice almost held awe and wonder, as if she hadn’t really believed it possible.
“Miss Cooper, I’ve imagined doing much more?”
A slight blush spread across her cheeks.
“But, if I don’t leave you now, I am afraid you will learn just how much of a gentleman I am not.”
She swallowed and looked around the room. The fear returned to her eyes.
“I promise I won’t be far away, but I think it is best if I stay in the room across the hall.”
“Will you leave the door open?”
He wanted privacy, at least for the few moments it would take to attain relief.
“I will leave it cracked, but you must promise to stay in bed and try and sleep.” He stood and the glass crunched against his boots. “I don’t want you to cut one of your feet.”
She lay back against the pillows, her mahogany hair fanning out around her head. It was all Matthew could do not to join her in that bed. He pulled the blanket up to her chin and kissed her on the forehead. “Call if you need me.”
