The Vicar's Frozen Heart (18 page)

She pulled away, retrieved an envelope from the tin, then rolled it onto his erect prick. With a swift and sudden movement, he turned her to face the bed. He spread his hand flat on her back, gently pushed her downward, and kicked her legs apart. After grabbing the hem of her wool gown, he raised it until her bare ass was revealed.

“Trey...oh,” she groaned.

He always preferred this position. So far, it did not seem to place undue pressure on his leg and thigh. If it did, he could always brace his knee against the bed. God, she was beautifully made. With trembling hands, he caressed the soft globes of her rear, then slipped one hand between her legs and was immediately met with wetness that soaked his fingers. Such a passionate woman.

With no warning he plunged into her, causing her to cry out. She met each eager thrust by pushing back against his cock and he slipped in deeper, his bollocks slapping against her skin. Wrapping her auburn locks about his wrist, he pulled gently, not to hurt her, but to have her under his control. “Touch yourself, Eliza.”

Her hand disappeared between her legs and she rubbed her hardened nub while he continued his ceaseless pounding. They both cried out at nearly the same time. Letting go of her hair, he draped himself across her back, trembling and shaking with his release. When he caught his breath, he stood upright, slipping out of her. After lowering her gown, he assisted her in standing upright, then embraced her from behind. She held his arms and they swayed, the musky odor of sex surrounding them. An invisible but strong bond had formed between them tonight.

“Go,” he whispered ardently in her ear. “Go now before I take you again. And again.”

Eliza broke from him and ran for the door. Then she stopped, turned, and gave him a sultry smile before she disappeared into the hall and out the front door.

Tremain sat on the edge of the bed, his body still shaking from the intensity of their joining. He was lost. Utterly besotted. And he had the distinct feeling when he did reveal the rest of his story he could very well lose her.

Eliza awoke the next morning aching and sore, but nonetheless happily reveled in the sensation. Stretching like a lazy cat, a soft titter escaped her mouth and she found herself hiding the girlish giggle with the back of her hand. Amazing, as she was not one for giggling. But the emotions overwhelming her caused such bliss she thought her heart would burst.

Naughty vicar.
She smiled as she relived the deeply raw intimacy they’d shared. How satisfying to find that Tremain proved to be every inch the passionate lover she believed he would be. Under the coldness, he crackled with an intense and desirous heat. The sex went far beyond what she’d experienced with William. But then, with Tremain love was happily in the mix.

Yes, she did love him. It built at a slow but steady pace beginning with her fascination with his remote demeanor and his tall, broad-shouldered, masculine presence. The more he revealed, the more she fell for him. For such a man she could endure being a vicar’s wife.

She sat upright, swung her legs around, and stretched once again. Every place he’d touched or kissed still thrummed and burned with fervent force. How tempted she was to run to the vicarage, throw herself in his strong embrace, and beg him to love her again.

Enough daydreams, as she had many things to attend to today. Yesterday Drew shyly revealed his birthday was this coming Sunday. A small party would be just the thing. She must speak to Mrs. Hughes, the cook, and arrange a special meal, then make a trip to the village to order one of Mrs. Tompkins’s chocolate cakes, as the lad adored it.

Once she performed her ablutions and dressed in one of her gray gowns, she hurried to the kitchen and ate toast and tea with the staff, informing them of Drew’s upcoming tenth birthday. Mrs. Hughes frowned, crossing her arms under her ample bosom. “And what is wrong with my cakes that you have to hie off to the pub to get one?”

Eliza smiled. “Nothing whatsoever. It’s Drew’s favorite, and you will have enough to do with the meal. I hear he enjoys seed cake, perhaps that and lemon tarts would be a nice accompaniment to the cake.”

The cook nodded. “Aye, fair enough. I’ll get word to the butcher to deliver a nice loin of beef. How many will be attending?”

“Mr. Dibley, the vicar, Mr. and Mrs. Tompkins, and the rest of the staff and myself.”

“Here now. I’ve never ate in the dining room in my life. ‘Tisn’t done. ‘Tisn’t proper.” Mrs. Hughes sniffed haughtily.

Eliza stood. “Well, it’s right and proper for this house. But I will run it by Mr. Dibley later this afternoon.” She gave the cook an affectionate smile. “The poor boy lost his mother. He has no other family and he looks to all of us to fill that role. I will do it happily. Drew said we are all the only friends he has.”

Mrs. Hughes dabbed her eyes with the corner of her apron. “Poor wee mite. Aye, he’s a darling lad. We’ll all be there and I’ll make all his favorites.”

Eliza patted Mrs. Hughes’s arm and headed upstairs to the schoolroom. If anyone understood what it felt like to be without a family or loved ones, she did. She would make sure Drew was surrounded by love and support. Things she never truly experienced, but now, with Tremain, they lay within her grasp.

* * * *

Later that afternoon, Eliza gave Drew two pages of math problems to solve and, if he finished before she returned, a writing exercise. Now would be the perfect opportunity to head for the village and order the cake. Slipping on her cloak, she went in search of Jon Dibley. The study door was open so Eliza knocked and stepped into the room, shocked to find Tremain sitting before the desk. Immediately her body came alive as awareness skittered across her nerve endings. How handsome he looked today, all in black with his white collar. Both he and Mr. Dibley stood when she’d entered the room, though it took Tremain a little longer.

Her naughty vicar gave her a scorching gaze, as if willing her to recall every intense and intimate thing that happened the night before. She flushed, her heart pounding at a fast pace. Mr. Dibley looked between them and raised an eyebrow, but said nothing.

“Please sit, gentlemen. I’m on my way to the village to order a cake. Drew’s birthday is this Sunday and I am arranging a dinner. I do hope you can both make it.”

“I had no idea,” Tremain said as he sat.

“He just revealed it to me. I thought to invite the Tompkinses and the rest of the staff, unless you both object to dining with the servants. Mrs. Hughes’s response was, ‘It isn’t proper,’ but I’m hoping for the sake of the boy we can overlook societal rules for one night.”

Mr. Dibley smiled. “I am one of the help, as it were, so I have no objections. Well, Vicar? Would it upset your sensibilities?”

Tremain cast Mr. Dibley a warning look, for what reason Eliza could not say. “Not at all. I would be happy to attend.” He stood, leaning on his cane. “In fact, I will accompany you to the village.”

“Oh, there’s no need. You both no doubt have business to discuss.”

“We are finished for the day, aren’t we, Mr. Dibley?”

Jon Dibley cross his arms, looking highly amused. “It would seem so.”

Tremain crooked his arm. “Shall we?”

Eliza slipped her arm through his, resting her hand on the sleeve of his long frock coat. Muscle tensed under her fingers and a raw heat moved through her body. As soon as they stepped into the hall, he pulled her into a crushing embrace. “God, how I’ve ached for you. I barely slept last night.” He kissed her, long and deep, igniting her passion afresh. “Come to me again tonight. Say you will. I need you.”

His demanding mouth found hers again, and he kissed her until she was breathless. Pulling away, she stepped back. “Yes. I need you, too. Tonight. But for now, we must head for the village.”

He grinned. Again she was astounded how his smile made him even more handsome. His gray eyes were alive and all vestiges of frost and ice were gone. “Or we can go to my bed this very moment and make love until the sun sets.”

How tempting.
“Later, my passionate vicar,” she teased.

He offered his arm again and they walked outside into the early spring sunshine. The young coachman, Terrance, opened the carriage door and assisted them in. As soon as the door closed, Tremain pulled her into his lap and began to kiss her, his mouth demanded everything and Eliza freely gave it.

Good thing the curtains were closed. Clasping her hand, Tremain tunneled under his coat until she felt the hardness pressing against the fall of his trousers. Encouraging her to clutch him tight, he kissed her again, more desperately than before. “What I would give to see you on your knees, my cock in your mouth. You taking me deep while you pinch your nipples.”

Eliza gripped him tighter and he groaned in response. “I would, right here,” she whispered, “But it’s only a few minutes’ journey.”

“Lift your skirts, sit facing me, and rock back and forth. It won’t take much to make me come.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Won’t it make a bit of a mess?”

“No one will know. I’ll keep the coat buttoned while in the village. Quickly now.”

She stood and lifted her gown and petticoats while he opened his coat. His erection strained against the fabric. Straddling him, she leaned forward as not to give undo pressure against his thigh.

“Yes. Perfect. Now move,” he commanded, his voice hard and rough.

She did, riding his stiff shaft for all it was worth. The scrap of linen from her drawers and the wool of his trousers were the only barriers lying between them. Their frenzied movements were enhanced by the swaying of the carriage as it rumbled over the mud-packed path.

Eliza quickened the pace, kissing him as she rubbed against his hardness. The excitement of trying to finish before they reached the village heightened her enthusiasm, and Tremain’s as well for he kissed her back with equal fervor.

Oh. Yes.
She buried her face in his shoulder to muffle her groans, and came. But she kept up the frantic pace, watching him clench his teeth as beads of perspiration broke out at his hairline. Closing his eyes, he moaned loudly, but she smothered it with a kiss. They shuddered in their embrace, and by the time they pulled up in front of The Rusty Cockerel they were sitting opposite each other as if nothing happened. “How do I look?” she murmured as she straightened her gown.

“Like a woman well ravished.”

“Oh. Let us sit a moment before we go in.”

The door opened. “It seems as if we must brave the public. Actually, you look flushed and pretty. Entirely respectable.” His mouth quirked in amusement.

With a sigh of resignation, she stepped out with the assistance of the Tompkins’ young lad. Tremain followed and his face showed an impassive mask of cool indifference. Drat the man for appearing calm and collected after their encounter. She felt anything but. Heat radiated from every part of her body.

After they ordered the cake, invited Mr. and Mrs. Tompkins to dinner Sunday evening, and had a short visit, Tremain and Eliza walked to the corner shop, where she bought Drew a couple of books. “Aren’t you getting him a gift?” she asked Tremain.

“I have it all in hand, do not worry. In fact, I…”

“Hawk! My God, is that you?” A shrill, feminine voice called out. Tremain froze, his spine going rigid, the muscles in his arm tightening under her fingers. “As I live and breathe, I cannot believe I would run into you in such a tiny, obscure hamlet such as this mud-hole.”

The woman standing before them was the epitome of a wealthy English rose. Her golden hair was exquisitely styled and topped by a fashionable emerald green taffeta bonnet. The rest of her traveling outfit consisted of a silk gown in various shades of green and beige with lace at the collar and gold embroidery at the sleeves. Twirling a green parasol with her leather-gloved hands, the beauty gave Tremain a sultry look that sparked Eliza’s jealousy.

Wait. What did she call him?
Hawk?

“On your way to a vicars-and-tarts party? In this rustic country setting? Good to know your licentious nature is alive and well.” The lady gave him a teasing wink and Eliza felt the ground shift beneath her as her insides roiled in apprehension. “Though I daresay your companion is hardly dressed as a doxie. In fact, quite dowdy if you don’t mind me saying. Going to introduce us, Hawk? Is this your latest paramour? If I knew you preferred a woman with reddish hair I would have dyed mine. But then, I always did indulge you in matters of bed sport.”

Eliza gasped in shock.
My God. Hawk.
Confusion filled her thoughts. Does Tremain look like this Hawkestone? She glanced back and forth between them. Why would this woman think he was The Hawk? Surely she was mistaken. It cannot be true. She clasped a hand over her mouth. Tremain was Viscount Hawkestone? Everything she thought she knew and believed in shattered into thousands of pieces.

Tremain did not have to look at Eliza to know she was shocked and devastated, and if she ruminated on this untimely meeting, it would no doubt grow into anger. Be damned if he was introducing them. He clasped Eliza’s arm, pulled her to the carriage, opened the door, and forcibly pushed her in. “Go home, Eliza, and send the carriage back to me.”

“This woman says you’re Viscount Hawkestone?” Her voice was dull but filled with hurt.

“Yes. I will explain everything.”

Eliza grasped the door and then slammed it shut and the carriage pulled away, leaving him to face his former lover.

Samantha bit her lower lip, no doubt to keep from laughing. “You have to admit this is all quite amusing.”

Red fury boiled his blood. He grabbed her elbow and then pulled her into the pub. They were already attracting attention in the street. Who knows what was overheard? “Using your office for a moment, Mr. Tompkins.” Tremain did not wait for a reply, merely thrust Lady Trimly into the room and slammed the door. “I see your manners have not improved, Samantha. I will have you know Miss Winston is a respectable governess and did not warrant such shabby slander.”

Samantha laid her parasol on the desk and sat in the chair, meticulously arranging her gown. Then she lifted her head, studying him closely. A sharp bark of cynical laughter left her throat. “She really thinks you are a vicar?
You?
Regardless, the woman did not look at you like a respectable governess, but rather as a woman emotionally attached to you and I must say her open and frank adoration is pathetic. The young miss was also shocked to hear of your title. Do not tell me you actually
are
a vicar?” An even higher-pitched nasal laugh left her throat, causing him to cringe.
Always hated her grating giggles
. “Oh, this development is too juicy not to share. Do you mean to say when your family told all and sundry you were off recovering from your war wounds on the Italian coast you were here playing at being a saintly priest?” She laughed again, her head thrown back with mirth. How tempting it would be to wrap his hands about her delicate neck and squeeze. Anything to shut her up.