The Vicar's Frozen Heart (12 page)

At first, his father, the duke, was shocked at this change in direction, but both parents supported him, as did his brothers, Spencer and Harrison. They agreed to allow him the time he needed to try and heal. Hence the false story of Tremain staying in the Mediterranean to recover. His family also agreed, though reluctantly, to keep their distance for at least two years. The time was almost up. However, he still felt dead inside. Except when in Eliza’s presence.

He ran his hands through his damp hair. If tonight’s night terror proved anything, it showed he was far from ready to take up his former life. Last night, for a brief span of time, he thought he could. He flirted, smiled, and allowed the fantasy to flourish that he could find pleasure and peace in the arms of Eliza Winston. A good thing he regained control over his passion before he took her against the door.

If anything could take his mind off his night terrors, it was Eliza. Tossing the damaged pillow to the floor, he stuffed another behind his head and allowed himself to drift into light sleep.

Eliza walked into his room wearing her barmaid outfit. As he lay naked on the bed, she slowly stripped away the layers of clothes while he stroked his erect cock. With a sensual smile, she ran her hands down her lush, curvy body, pinching her nipples while she moaned. He stroked faster as she walked toward him and lay on the bed. Spreading her legs, he knelt in between them.

He lay on his stomach, wrapping his arms around her thighs and spreading her wide in anticipation of making a feast of her. Wet and delicious, he drank his fill, leaving no part of her pretty quim untouched. Eliza writhed and moaned as he brought her to ecstasy. He rubbed her nub with his fingers as his tongue plunged inside her. Thrusting in time with his strokes, he wrung a sweetly agonizing climax out of her as she grasped a handful of his hair while she bucked her hips.

Suddenly, Eliza faded and he cracked open his eyes to find himself alone in the room. He stroked his cock with wild abandon, reliving the erotic dream, every slide of his tongue, every taste of her sweet juices, and every soft moan. If there was one thing he enjoyed in the past it was oral foreplay, tasting his various lovers until they came apart under his tongue. With a raw, husky yell, he reached his peak. The climax was so intense his entire body shuddered and shook for several minutes His wounded leg grew taut, causing his eyes to water from the brief pain. Pleasure and pain. It certainly encompassed his feelings for Eliza. Feelings he must keep to himself.

Now he would have to find the strength to ensure they were not alone together ever again.
Friends
. It was all they could ever be. Tremain cared far too much for her to subject her to his terrors, subject her to the man who held no control during his nightmares. To the man who could harm her. To harm her would destroy him utterly.

* * * *

For the previous three weeks Eliza tried to no avail to get Tremain alone. When she did see him, he was actually more polite than usual, but with a distant civility as if he’d learned a new way to contain his emotions around her. The coldness receded somewhat, but was replaced with a polite indifference she found nearly as disturbing as his former frosty demeanor.

He continued to infuriate her and perhaps a lesser woman would have walked away, finding him not worth the effort. But in the past several weeks, she had enough of a glimpse to understand he suffered not only physically with his leg, but also in his soul.
Damaged.
To what extent, she still needed to ascertain.

Meanwhile, she settled into the ebb and flow of Hawkestone Estate. It was a very informal atmosphere compared to her previous position. The small staff reached out to her in friendship, inviting her to dinner with them once a week. She also ate in the dining room once a week with Mr. Dibley, Tremain, and Drew.

Jon Dibley was an attractive man, three or four inches taller than she, with coffee-colored hair and a closely trimmed beard. However, his pleasant looks and kind manner did not set her blood boiling the way Tremain did. Leave it to her to fall for the damaged, tortured man. Beyond Tremain’s dark handsomeness, she sensed he needed her. Of that she was quite certain. Perhaps they needed each other. Eliza remained firmly convinced they could fill the hole in each other’s hearts. Coming to this realization made her even more resolute to breach Tremain’s defenses. Why not a vicar and a governess? They would make an interesting couple, though being a vicar’s wife held no appeal in the religious sense, but for his sake she could make an attempt. Shaking her head and dismissing the fanciful daydreams, Eliza turned her attention to Drew. They were studying the War of the Roses when a knock sounded at the door.

Tremain stepped in and Drew glanced up, his face shining in happiness. Tremain returned the smile, though briefly, and patted the lad affectionately on the head. He obviously cared for Drew, and observing the genuine fondness between man and boy made her heart tumble. “Drew has a request, Vicar,” she said.

Tremain turned toward the boy. “Indeed? What is it, lad?”

“Well, I really enjoyed the meat pies Miss Winston brought from the pub, and I wonder if the three of us could go for lunch there, maybe tomorrow? Or next week?”

Tremain caught Eliza’s gaze over the top of Drew’s head, giving her a suspicious look. Though an excellent plan, she could not lay claim to it. It was all Drew’s idea.

“Miss Winston, may I speak to you for a moment in the hall?”

“Of course. Drew, please read the next five pages and I will return to quiz you on them. We will also have an answer from the vicar, I promise.”

While Drew began reading, Tremain clutched her arm and pulled her none too gently from the room, closing the door behind him. “What is your game?” He whispered, his teeth clenched.

“Oh, come now. You think I put the child up to this? How devious do you think I am? It was his suggestion. Not mine,” she sniffed in disdain. How dare he accuse her?

Leaning on his cane, he slapped his free hand against the wall next to her. “Listen to me carefully, Eliza. I cannot be seen with a member of my parish in a social situation, particularly a pretty governess who tempts me beyond all endurance.” He shook his head. “I cannot be involved with you or it will be suitable cause for my dismissal. For all intents and purposes, I am a priest in the Anglican Church and certain rules must be adhered to.”

“Have you taken a vow of celibacy?”

“No, of course not. But there are strictures in place and I am honor bound to obey them. And I shall.”

Well. First time he mentioned this. How convenient. While he did throw up another obstacle, she refused to be hampered by it. “I am not a member of your parish. I was going to attend the service this Sunday, but I will stay here instead. Mr. Dibley can accompany Drew to church. There. Problem solved.”

Tremain pushed away from the wall, backed up several steps and uttered an oath. “Whether you attend services or not, you live in my parish. It is a small village and people talk. I am sure the hens are clucking already over our close proximity. We should not fuel the flames as I would rather avoid scandal if it is all the same to you. My work here is not done, and I…” He clamped his mouth shut.

“What work? Your duties as vicar?”

He shook his head. “Never mind. No lunch in the village.”

Obstinate man.
“You would break that poor boy’s heart? He talks of you constantly. He adores you. Do not push him away because you cannot stand to be in my presence.” She sounded petulant, but to hell with it.

Tremain walked toward her with purpose, the cane thumping loudly against the wood floor. “I want nothing more than to be in your presence.” He stopped, mere inches from her, and stroked her cheek with the back of his fingers. Eliza shuddered at his touch. How she missed it. As her insides rolled and dipped, a ragged groan escaped her lips. Leaning in, he whispered in her ear. “I want nothing more than to be in your body. Thrusting deep until you cry out. Until I come. Until you come. Preferably at the same time.” Eliza raised her hands to clutch his coat and pull him closer, but he’d already stepped away. “But it won’t happen. I won’t allow it.” His voice was hoarse, with need perhaps? It was hard to say as his face remained granite hard and unreadable.

Collecting herself, she cleared her throat. “It is only lunch at a pub. I’m not suggesting a torrid dalliance, though the idea holds merit, considering your wicked words. Say yes for Drew. I promise I will stay far away and not even look at you. We will be all that is proper.”

“Damn you, this is not a game. This is my livelihood you mock, my calling.” He turned away from her and shame coursed through her. In trying to recreate the teasing flirtation they’d shared three weeks ago, all she managed to do was make a fool of herself and insult him.

“Forgive me. You are correct. This is not a game. We must stop goading each other like this. Why did you allow the viscount to offer me employment if I am such a...a...”

“Attractive woman? A distraction that haunts my dreams?”

Eliza flushed with pleasure at his words. “I will inform Drew you’re busy and cannot…”

“Oh, blast it. I will come the day after next and we will go to the village in my wagon. For lunch. Then I’ll bring you both straight back here.” He turned to face her. “But you do understand we cannot take this attraction any further?”

“Yes. I understand,” she answered contritely. But she didn’t agree with it. And she would not give up. After this conversation, she became all the more convinced they needed and wanted each other.

Admonishing himself for weakening and agreeing to this luncheon engagement took up a fair bit of Tremain’s time during the next forty-eight hours. But as the three of them sat in the wagon heading toward Hawksgreen, Tremain dismissed the thoughts and for once made a determined effort to enjoy the day.

The lingering snow from the late January storm had almost melted, and since it was the first week in March a distinct smell of spring loitered in the air. With the sporadic birdsong came a promise of renewal and rebirth. Perhaps he should take a lesson from nature and allow seeds to grow.

What seeds exactly? The words Jon spoke to him some weeks back never left his mind. They took root. At this time he still did not feel he was able to enter into a complicated relationship with Eliza, but they could enjoy each other’s company. And he was fond of Drew. In fact, he instructed Jon to contact the solicitor and begin the paperwork to make Drew his legal ward.

In the meantime, Tremain continued to see to his duties as vicar. Since the village and its surrounding farms constituted a small area, he had a good deal of leisure time on his hands. He made the expected rounds, sitting in parlors while the lady of the house asked, “More tea, Vicar?” and he also sat on a hard stool in places no better than hovels. He donated small amounts of food when he could and his poorer parishioners, though proud in bearing, accepted his gifts with gratitude. Tremain would also be donating seed later in the spring to farmers in need on behalf of his viscount counterpart. All these small acts of kindness helped to heal his tortured soul.

Being a priest to a vast swath of classes opened his eyes to the plight of those less fortunate. He’d quite a bit to report to his father. Tremain started a journal of everything he’d witnessed both as vicar and during the war. The unfairness of society and the wretched poverty. As the Duke of Gransford, his father held power within the aristocracy that could see things done. As second son and a viscount in his own right, Tremain also could advocate for fair treatment to the poor. As could Harrison, as the Marquess of Tennington.

And all this brought the looming specter of his future into sharp focus. When he became vicar he had no intention of keeping the position for the rest of his life. He understood his place in society and within his own family, and even if he did wish a career with the church, being a country vicar was not the path of a duke’s second son. He would be expected to become a clergyman in a prominent church in London with ambitions to become bishop, beholden to rich and titled patrons, and that prospect did not appeal to Tremain in any way. It was the main reason he didn’t enter the church after graduating from Cambridge.

It was all a moot point, as he could not keep up this dual life much longer. At some point he would have to find a suitable young man, recently ordained, to take his place, and then he would be honor bound to fulfill his role as Viscount Hawkestone. At first, the idea turned his stomach. But as Jon pointed out more than once, there was much he could accomplish as a viscount rather than a vicar.

Tremain glanced at Eliza sitting next to him, her hand resting gently on his arm. Drew sat on the other side chattering away about his lessons. Here with this lovely lady and the young lad he felt at peace. How would they respond when they found out he lied to them about his identity? How would the village react? Jon did bring up that exacting and salient point when Tremain first informed him of his plan. Ultimately he dismissed the concerns; it was something to be dealt with at a later time. Thing is, that
later time
drew near.

As they crossed the stone bridge the village came into view. Since it was such a pleasant early spring day many people were out and about. Tremain cursed inwardly. It would create all the more opportunity for the few busybodies to see him with Eliza. Under the circumstances, he would have to make an effort to shutter his emotions more than usual.

Once the carriage was seen to, Jonas Tompkins escorted the three of them to one of his best tables. It sat in the corner with a half wall offering a bit of privacy. “Now, what can I get you all?” Jonas smiled.

“Meat pies!” Drew said, and everyone laughed except Tremain, though he managed a slight smile.

“Meat pies all around. Tea for Miss Winston and myself and a large glass of fresh milk for Drew,” Tremain stated.

“Very well, Vicar. And Drew, Mrs. Tompkins has a special treat. She made a chocolate cake. Would you like a piece for dessert?”