The Vicar's Frozen Heart (13 page)

Drew gazed up at Tremain expectantly, his eyes wide and pleading. The boy insisted on sitting next to him and he had to admit the open and honest adoration from Drew warmed him. “Absolutely. Cake for us all.”

Drew clapped enthusiastically. The conversation between them was easy and friendly as they waited for their food. Tremain observed that they attracted a good deal of attention; a few patrons whispered behind their hands. Blast it all, but at the end of the day what did it matter?

The food arrived and Tremain cut into the meat pie, popping a piece in his mouth. He caught Eliza’s gaze, her emerald eyes sparkling prettily at him. Blinking, he looked away, masking his response. As they sat at the table sharing a meal, it made Tremain suddenly yearn for a family. How he longed to have a strong, attractive, and intelligent woman by his side to share the duties by day and his bed and desires by night. A son he could be proud of, honorable and compassionate toward humanity. Like Drew. The secret desires of any decent, stable man. However, he was not stable, though he would acknowledge the healing had begun in the smallest way. And decent? It could be argued. Empty plates were taken away, and generous slices of cake placed before them.

“Oh, how sinfully delicious this looks,” Eliza murmured.

Tremain could not tear his eyes from her as she lifted a piece of cake toward her sensual mouth. Sweat broke out at his hairline as she licked the fork and her dainty tongue dashed away a little frosting from her bottom lip. Even watching her eat aroused him. Better he focus on his own food. It took him no time at all to devour the chocolate confection.

Shortly thereafter, Tremain paid the innkeeper and they all thanked the Tompkinses profusely for the meal. The three of them stepped outside. Across the road, four young lads were playing tag. Drew watched them intently.

“Do you know those boys, Drew?” Eliza asked.

“Yes, they’re my mates.”

Eliza laid a hand on his shoulder. “Go and say hello, Drew. The vicar and I will take a short walk.”

Drew gave her a brilliant smile and scampered off toward the other boys. Tremain offered her his arm and she took it, yet kept her distance. “He must be lonely at the estate with no one to play with. Every child should have a friend.”

“Very true, Miss Winston. Unfortunately, life sometimes makes it difficult to form attachments.”

“Speaking from your own experience? Aren’t you and Mr. Dibley long-time friends?”

“Yes.”

Eliza squeezed his arm. “You never talk about him, your family, or your past. Was it so horrible?”

“Quite the opposite. I had a wonderful childhood and have a wonderful family. While I can boast a large circle of acquaintances, I only have a few I would call friends. My two brothers and Jon. And you, Miss Eliza Winston.”
So much for shuttering my emotions.
When he spoke her name the tone hid nothing. It held all his yearnings and desires. And she heard it, for she pulled closer to him and sighed, her hand caressing his sleeve. Again heated sparks flew between them. Time to change the subject. “I should tell you I received a response from the housekeeper in Yorkshire. She confirmed your story, background, and experience.”

“So you believe me now?”

“My dear Eliza, I always believed you. But I wrote the letter to ensure that if anyone decides to question your abilities and qualifications, I can offer proof. I regret to inform you she adamantly refuses on behalf of Lady Bowater to replace the money and reference stolen from you, even though they hired the brutes.”

Eliza laughed, and the feminine sound stirred his desire. “I am not surprised. Truly, they were glad to see the back of...”

She was interrupted by loud voices. The boys had chased Drew back across the lane.

“Leave off, you toff. You be too high and mighty to be with the likes of us,” one of the boys yelled at Drew.

Another picked up a handful of mud and threw it toward Drew, but he nimbly jumped out of the way. “Go back to yer ‘igh and mighty viscount. We don’t want yer type ‘round ‘ere.”

“Oh, Tremain,” Eliza gasped.

He shook off her arm and strode across the street as fast as his wretched leg would allow. Protectively, he placed his arm around Drew. “Be off, the lot of you!”

The boys scattered, running off in different directions. Crouching down, he turned Drew to face him. The boy’s lower lip trembled and his eyes were moist, but he did not cry. Tremain’s heart swelled with sympathy. Taking Drew and placing him at the estate may have been a selfish move on his part. In doing so, he pulled Drew from the lower classes and thrust him into a world he knew nothing about, and those he left behind would never let him forget it.

Suddenly, Drew threw his arms about his neck. “I’m all right, Vicar. It will be all right.”

Tremain hugged him back and a surge of emotion gripped him tight. To hell with making this boy his ward. Instead, he would adopt him and give him his name--if Drew wanted it. He loved this child as if he were his own. “Yes. It will be all right, Drew. You’ll see.”

“Can we stop and visit my mother’s grave on the way home?” he asked, his voice soft and shaky.

“Of course, lad. We shall.”

Ten minutes later, the three of them stood before the resting place of Ruth Payne on the church property. “Mr. Dibley informed me the stone is on order. The viscount approved it,” Tremain said solemnly.

Drew slipped his hand in Tremain’s. “Will I meet The Hawk...I mean, the viscount, soon?”

“Yes, lad. Sooner than you might suppose.” Eliza shot Tremain a puzzled look but he ignored it.

“It doesn’t matter my mates don’t like me anymore,” Drew said quietly.

“You can make new friends when you go off to school in a couple of years,” Eliza assured him.

“Yes, but I have all the friends I need right now. You, the vicar, Mr. Dibley, and Anna, and cook. I want to learn. I want to go away to school.” He gazed up at Tremain. “I want to be a doctor so people like my mum have proper care. I want to help cure diseases and help the sick. Can I do that, Vicar?”

Tremain swallowed back the lump of emotion lodged in his throat. “My dear boy, you can do anything you put your mind to. Medicine is a fine profession. The Hawk will be proud. I am proud. We will see it done. Miss Winston will do all she can to prepare you to achieve your goal.” He glanced at Eliza, who nodded as she swiped away a tear. At that moment, Tremain never cared for two people more. And he did not deserve it.

After the events of the day, Eliza decided the time had come to confront Tremain and take their budding relationship further, if indeed they would have any relationship at all. All his talk of friendship and nothing more exasperated her, but she would not be deterred. Perhaps it was arrogant of her to assume Tremain would welcome her bold advances, but as time passed it became clear she would have to approach him.
Stubborn man.
Most women in her shoes would have given up, but something compelled her forward.

The man was annoyingly vague about his life and past, as if he were keeping a secret. Besides his obvious physical attributes she found him complex, mysterious, brooding, and entirely passionate, even though he tried to hide it at every turn. Was he keeping a secret? Watching him interact with Drew during their outing that afternoon touched her.
Frozen heart indeed. What a fallacy.

Gathering her courage, she waited until Drew was fast asleep and the other occupants of Hawkestone Estate were otherwise engaged, put on her cloak, and then exited the manor house through the kitchen door to begin the few minutes’ walk to the vicarage. She fingered the key in her cloak pocket, a way to get back inside the place should all the doors be locked after a certain hour.

The full moon cast enough light for her to find her way. With each step her heart fluttered madly. This could be a terrible mistake and could damage what little progress they’ve made. No woman wants to be rejected. However, the memory of his heated and passionate kisses urged her onward.

A light burned in the corner window, but the rest of the residence lay in darkness. Good God, had he retired for the night? What did she know of his sleeping habits? With a cleansing breath, she rapped on the door. Eliza could hear the familiar sound of his cane thumping against the wood planks. The door opened. “Yes, who is it?”

She lowered the hood of her cloak and met his gaze. He wore black trousers with a white shirt that lay open halfway down his torso.
Oh.
An alluring peek at his chest hair made her gulp. The shirtsleeves were rolled up, showing muscular forearms, ink stains were visible on two of his fingers. No doubt working in his study.

“Eliza. Has something happened?” he asked, worry dripped from his tone.

“No, everyone is fine.” She gave him a shaky smile.

“Then, what....” Tremain grabbed her arm and pulled her across the threshold, closing the door. “Someone could have seen you,” he admonished sternly.

“At nine o’clock? I rather doubt it. Early to bed, early to rise is what people around here live by. Not I. I treasure my time in the latter part of the evening. Do you?”

Tremain leaned on his cane. “Why are you here?”

Yes, why? Nerves caused her hands to tremble as she might be about to make a serious miscalculation. Unbuttoning her cloak, it fell to the floor and she stood before Tremain wearing her barmaid garments. Seeing that he had reacted to it strongly before, why not use it as an inducement? She was glad she’d kept it.

Or perhaps not. At first, he did not react in any way. Instead, he stood as still and stony as a granite statue. Yet looking into the depths of his silver-gray eyes, heat emanated from them instead of his usual frosty gaze. “Do you take a twisted delight in tempting me? Are you cruel to your core?”

Her heart dropped to her toes. Even though her first instinct was to flee from his harsh statement, she did hear desire in his tone. She’d known him long enough to recognize it. Biting her lower lip and gathering her courage, she stepped closer and laid a hand flat against his chest. His heart banged furiously under her touch. “No, Tremain. I am not here to torment you. Far from it. I’m here to seduce you. Shocking, isn’t it? Try as I might, I cannot stay away.”

An agonized moan left his throat as he backed away, but in doing so stumbled and crashed to the floor. Eliza cried out in shock and rushed to his side. He pushed her away and struggled to his feet, groaning with the effort. “You wish to seduce a cripple? Do you desire sex that much?” he roared. “Go back to the manor house, Miss Winston. There is nothing here for you.”

Oh!
A raw fury she never experienced before tore through her veins, making her blood boil. “You wretch, how dare you? Do you know what it took for me to come here tonight? You stupid, stubborn man. I desire you, though I have no idea why, considering your brooding, cold demeanor.” Eliza stood close, poking him in the chest. “Then you let the mask down only enough to allow a brief glimpse of the passionate man beneath. You. Torture. Me. And I don’t care you’re a cripple...”

He grabbed her wrist. “You would if you saw the injury. It’s vile and I would not subject any woman to suffer it, especially not you.”

Eliza pulled her arm from his grip. “Are you in pain at this minute?”

He grimaced. “I am always in pain.”

“Do you not take a nostrum, or perhaps laudanum, or morphine?”

“No. I tried laudanum while recovering in the hospital, but I did not like the false feeling of euphoria. In addition, the doctor who treated me was himself addicted to morphine. I wanted no part of any narcotic that would wield control over me.” He paused. “And I’ve come to believe if a man is in pain it serves to remind him of his mortality. I’ve made a friend of my pain.” As he spoke he rubbed his leg.

“Then let me help you. One thing I learned at the orphanage was how to apply a mustard plaster. Let me do this for you. It will bring modest relief,” she urged.

Tremain shook his head. “No, absolutely not. No one has seen my injury except doctors and nurses.” He gazed out the parlor window. In a soft, low voice, he said, “I’ve not been with a woman since before the war. More than three years. I am not sure I can even manage to achieve sex. I can achieve arousal, you’ve proved I still experience that. I am speaking of the physical part of the act. Due to the pain in my leg and thigh, I may not be able to perform....Oh, damn it to hell.”

She took a couple of tentative steps closer to him. His magnificent profile cast in moonlit illumination, his look wistful and vulnerable. She clutched his bare forearm, his skin warm to the touch. “Then let us see if I can manage well enough with your ‘vile injury.’ I’m a strong woman, Tremain. Why don’t you lay by the fire? I will gather some blankets and pillows for your comfort and apply the plaster to your thigh and leg.” She took another step and her breasts brushed against his arm, causing a sharp intake of breath from him. “Do not send me away. Let us see where this will take us.”

He nodded and it took all her control not to react joyfully at his acquiescence. As she hurried down the hall toward the guest bedroom to fetch blankets and other bedding, she realized though a part of her must be wanton for lusting after him in such a blatant manner, the actual barriers she wished to breach were the ones around his heart and soul. Yes, she cared deeply for him, may even be half in love with him already. No matter how horrendous his wound, she could not react or it would cause him to withdraw deep within himself where she may not be able to reach him ever again.

* * * *

Hard as a steel pike from the moment she removed her cloak. The vision of her dressed as a barmaid nearly did him in. It reminded him of his recent erotic dream and probably explained his compliance on the mustard plaster--and the vulnerable confession of his doubts about sex. Blast it all, it hurt to walk across the room, how could he manage various sex positions? Years ago, he had a reputation as an arduous and capable lover. Like the pompous ass he once was, he reveled and preened over the compliments. Yes, his life was once that vacuous.

Eliza reentered the room carrying a bundle of bedding and pillows. With quick efficiency, she arranged them before the fire. “Now, do you have mustard seed? Never mind, I will find it in the kitchen. May I use some of the towels or do you have muslin?” He nodded, not able to speak. “Please sit and relax. I will find everything and return directly.”