Tenacious Trents 02 - A Perfect Gentleman (28 page)

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.”

“I will.”

He added more wood to the fire so that it
burned brightly then left her room, leaving the door only half open
and crossed the hall. If Grace left her room she would need to open
the door further and he would hear it squeak.

For a moment he stood in the center of the
dark bedchamber and let his eyes adjust. The moon was bright enough
that he could make out the placement of the furniture. He closed
the door, leaving it open only a crack and stood behind it. He took
his handkerchief out of his pocket and loosened the placket on his
breeches. His cock sprang forth, hard and pulsating with need. As
much as he hated to do this, a part of him still believing it was
wrong; Matthew knew he would get no rest tonight until he had found
release.

He grasped his member tight, imagining it was
Grace who held him and moved his fist up and down, wondering what
her mouth would feel like, the warm heat enveloping him, taking him
deep, her tongue caressing the underside as her delicate fingers
caressed his sack.

In a matter of moments Matthew was
ejaculating into his handkerchief with enough force that it almost
buckled his knees. He grabbed the wall to remain upright and bit
his lip to keep from groaning.

With one last shudder he relaxed and let out
a long sigh before moving to the chair beside the window and
falling into it.

That one act left him completely drained. Had
he been able to find his release the way he truly desired, he may
have expired on the spot.

Matthew wadded up the handkerchief and shoved
into an inside pocket and fastened his breeches. As inviting as the
bed looked and as much as he wished to be out of his clothing,
Matthew knew he couldn’t allow himself to fall into a deep sleep
again. Someone had gotten past him before and he would not allow it
again. He had to protect Miss Cooper and this chair was comfortable
enough to see him through what remained of the night.

Grace lay in her bed wondering what had come
over her. She had been having a nightmare. Someone was in her room.
Then Vicar Trent was there and all she could think about was
kissing him. Her face burned with embarrassment. How could she have
behaved in such an ill-bred manner? Yet, he hadn’t rejected her.
Instead, he had engaged her in the most delicious kiss she had ever
experienced. Not that she had ever been kissed before, but nobody
could kiss as wonderfully as Vicar Trent.

But how could she behave in such a way? Her
father was below in his bed, and nobody knew if he would survive,
and here she was, behaving like a harlot. Vicar Trent had not been
appalled, but was he just being kind?

He didn’t act as if he was humoring her. He
behaved as if he wanted to do more with her. Oh how she wished she
knew exactly what men and women did together. She was certain it
had something to do with the ache below, in her private area, which
was mysteriously damp. Was that desire as well?

Grace rolled over on her side and clamped her
legs tightly together. That only made the ache worse. She blew out
a breath. What was she to do? Her breasts were heavy and tingling
and her private areas pulsed. A girl couldn’t sleep in this
condition, but there was nothing to be done. All she could hope was
that it went away soon.

Slowly she brought a hand up and grasped her
breast. The nipple was tight, like they were when she was cold, but
she was very warm at the moment. Especially since Vicar Trent had
built the fire up. Was that desire too? But why? She pinched the
end and a jolt of desire rushed to her private areas making her
ache worse. How odd that the two were connected.

She glanced around the room, even though she
was certain she was alone and burrowed further beneath the
blankets. With her other hand she touched the area between her
thighs that pulsated. The most delicious sensation warmed her
within and the ache became stronger but it wasn’t anything like the
pains she suffered during her monthly.

This was all a bit disconcerting and Grace
was fairly certain she was not supposed to be touching herself in
this manner. Not that anyone had told her it was wrong but such
things were never discussed.

Despite the pleasure, she took her hands away
and rested them before her on the side of the bed. Maybe one day
she would learn where all this led.

Her lids grew heavy and Grace let her eyes
close, trying to ignore the new sensations her body was
experiencing and find slumber.

She couldn’t breathe and Grace fought to
scream but there was only silence no matter how hard she tried.
Someone was pushing on her and she couldn’t get away.

“Grace!” the voice intruded on her
nightmare.

“Wake up.”

She struggled to open her eyes but it was so
hard. She needed air. With all her might she opened her mouth and
took a deep breath and pushed the person away.

“Damn and blast.”

She opened her eyes to find Vicar Trent
sitting on her floor amongst the broken glass. Had he fallen?

“Now you wake up.”

“What happened?” Her hands shook and the
nightmare wavered on the fringes of her consciousness.

“You were having another bad dream.”

“Yes, I know,” she said slowly. “How did you
know?”

“You were screaming.”

Her heartbeat increased. So someone had heard
her. The screams hadn’t been silent. Though it was a relief that
Vicar Trent came to her aid, she felt bad for having disturbed him.
“I’m sorry.”

“Why?” He pushed up on the floor to stand and
winced before he brought his hand forward. A chard of glass stuck
out his palm, blood pooled around it.

“Oh, dear. She shoved the covers back from
her bed and moved to rise.”

“Stay where you are,” he barked. “We don’t
need you cutting your feet.”

Grace ignored him and looked for her shoes or
slippers. After she had jumped in bed earlier she had dropped her
slippers at the side of the bed. There were next to her bedside
table. Careful to avoid the glass on the floor, she slipped her
feet inside before she rushed over to the pitcher of water in the
basin. He walked over to her, his arm extended in front of him,
palm up. Being as careful as possible, Grace plucked the glass from
his hand. It began to bleed anew and she poured cool water over his
cut before she took a small cloth and pressed it against his hand.
“My bandages are in the kitchen.”

“I’ll get them. You need to get back in
bed.”

“You can’t wrap your own hand,” Grace
insisted and picked up the lamp Vicar Trent had left in her room
earlier and carried it out into the hall and down the stairs. She
assumed he followed. When she entered the kitchen she lit two more
and began rummaging in the cabinets for her bandages. She seemed to
be tending his wounds quite a bit lately. Had she not been present
each time he was injured, she would wonder if he were accident
prone.