by Summer Devon
“Here. It’s the innkeeper’s granny, I think. But truth to tell, I could barely understand a word he said.”
“Your own accent is still thick as molasses.”
“Me? I have no accent,” Carne said with mock surprise. “Ah, here it is. You’ll want this and the Kodak. I’ll stash that in my own bag. I have the list of questions too.”
“I know them. Just stay near in case she decides I’m too odd for her.”
Carne laughed, rose to his feet and brushed his corduroy trousers clean. He glanced in the full-length glass and touched his face where there had been a beard until recently. He was slow to adopt new fashion in clothes or behavior.
He was fastidious about his clothing but refused to wear anything he deemed gentlemanlike. “No, I thank you, sir. I’m an assistant and proud of it,” he’d told Milken when the valet had offered to have the tailor make him some finer evening wear.
Carne wouldn’t sit down to any sort of banquet, no matter how much Phillip begged, not even the one the publisher had given to celebrate the launch of the Discovering Britain series.
They’d had a bit of a squabble about that one; after all, Phillip argued, Carne had done so much work on the book, he should have shared the limelight of that night. But they’d shared their own champagne and then a single snifter of brandy later. The two of them had developed a taste for one rather expensive French brand. And his invaluable assistant finally agreed to accompany Phillip to some events, as long as no one tried to make him sit a formal dinner or give a speech or talk to anyone or smile too often.
When it came to the actual work—he was more than ready to keep going and to force Phillip to remain at his tasks as well.
Now, he lifted a chintz curtain and peeked out the window. “The longer you stall, the less time you’ll have for dawdling over tea this morning,” he reminded Phillip.
Phillip went to the looking glass to brush his hair and adjust his tie. “And now you shall lecture me about how at home you only had daylight hours for work and slacking off might threaten one’s survival.”
“If you’d like me to.” Carne pushed his own supplies into a satchel, a gift from Bea and her husband. Someone—not Bea, who hated that sort of work—had decorated it with embroidered seashells. The satchel was a rather feminine item, but Carne used it when interviewing the ladies, who always exclaimed over the careful stitching. It was a good way to break the ice at the start of interviews. Sometimes the glowering Carne frightened them just a little, but not when he carried that bag.
Phillip buttoned his vest, tucked his watch away, and pulled on a jacket. He pushed his glasses up his nose and met Carne’s gaze in the mirror. For a long moment, the two men simply gazed at each other. Phillip loved examining the planes of Carne’s newly revealed face.
Carne raised his dark brows, then winked.
“Is that an invitation to go back to bed? If so, I accept it. Take off your clothes.” Phillip tried to look sultry, but he must have failed, because Carne turned away to hoist up a satchel.
“Later. Ready at last? Good.” Carne carried his satchel and Phillip’s as well, one bag over each broad shoulder. “So you want to hear all about hard work over the porridge and kippers, Professor? A nice speech about going hungry would be fitting, aye?”
They clattered down the surprisingly wide staircase side by side “Or perhaps you could tell me about the history of kippers,” Carne continued.
“I don’t know a thing about fish. That’s your lookout.”
They walked down a stone-flagged hall to the room where Carne had requested the innkeeper serve breakfast. It was a small, cozy room with a fire in the corner and mismatched chairs at two tables.
They took the table nearest the fire and the innkeeper and his wife served them. Carne didn’t need to fret about the stealth of silent, formal servants here. The innkeeper told them all about the fine weather, only a touch of rain. His wife added how excited she and her husband were to have such notable men of letters in their inn and how her mother-in-law was delighted to speak to them and how they should be sure to walk up the north hill that overlooked the inn. Eventually, Phillip and Carne were left alone with plates of food, with only the crackling fire breaking the silence.
Phillip picked up a fork and nudged something that might have been haggis. “What shall we do after the morning’s visit with Granny?” He gave up on the overloaded plate and turned his attention to the eggcup, using a knife to lop off the top of the soft-boiled egg.
He ate and listened to Carne lay out the schedule for the day. Phillip beamed with pleasure at hearing that they’d visit a local graveyard. The last graveyard they’d visited had been abandoned and extremely quiet and…they’d enjoyed that excursion a great deal.
Carne put down his knife and fork and leaned forward. “I know what you’re thinking just from that big smile. If you look at the innkeeper’s mother like that, she’ll tell you every secret she has. She’ll make up some just to keep you smiling.”
Phillip laughed. “You’re ridiculous.”
“You’re irresistible,” Carne said. He leaned even closer. “I love you.” At least once a day, he informed Phillip of that fact.
“Yes, you do. And I love you.” At least thirty times a day, he told Carne that truth. “I love you, I love you.”
Carne picked up his teacup and nodded. “I believe you do.”
THE END
ABOUT THE AUTHORS
Bonnie Dee
Whether you're a fan of contemporary, paranormal or historical romance, you'll find something to enjoy among my books. I'm interested in flawed, often damaged, people who find the fulfillment they seek in one another. Please sign up for my newsletter to stay informed about upcoming releases. Find me on Facebook and Twitter @Bonnie_Dee. For more information on my back list go to http://bonniedee.com. Please leave a review if you enjoyed this book. It really helps to promote our work.
Summer Devon
Summer Devon is the alter ego of Kate Rothwell. Kate invented Summer’s name in the middle of a nasty blizzard At the time she was talking to her sister, who longed to visit some friends in Devon, England—so the name Summer Devon is all about desire. Kate/Summer lives in Connecticut, USA, and also writes books, usually gaslight historicals, as Kate. For more information about Summer and Kate go to http://katerothwell.com http://summerdevon.com. Summer can also be found at https://www.facebook.com/S.DevonAuthor
If you enjoyed The Professor and the Smuggler, you may like The Merchant and the Clergyman.
A village clergyman
Curate James Fletcher is content shepherding his parishioners through the good and bad times of their lives. If he sometimes dreams of making a deeper connection with a man who truly knows everything about him, it is an impulse he ignores.
A devoted businessman
Declan Shaw solves problems at his family’s many business enterprises. Recently, he’s considered ceasing his travels to pursue a few desires of his own. He’d love to explore his secret love of cooking and perhaps have a relationship with a man that lasts longer than a night.
The event that brings them together
In town for his cousin’s wedding, Declan meets James just as he’s bested the annoying groom. Intrigued by the mild-mannered cleric’s surprising spirit, Declan asks James to help him discover if his aging aunt is being mistreated by her spouse.
As their paths repeatedly cross, the men reach an intersection of attraction they can’t ignore. Will they dare purse forbidden passion and continue to journey together into the future, or will their differences tear them apart?
Excerpt:
James hadn’t heard the door open. He’d been too focused on escaping Kip’s power over him. It had been so long, and he was dismayed to learn he still desired one of the least amiable men he knew.
A deep voice startled him. “Good God, what happened here?”
“Perhaps Mr. Darnley is having a fit,” James said, too disgusted with Kip and himself to c
are what this stranger thought.
The large man wore dusty clothes, a driver’s coat, and worn boots. After giving James a scowling frown, he dropped to a crouch by Kip’s side. “What’s going on?”
“He hit me,” Kip gasped.
The man looked at James. “Aren’t you some sort of priest?” His deeply tanned face made his eyes—as blue as Kip’s—brilliant. They regarded James with interest.
“I’m James Fletcher, the curate. And I didn’t hit Kip, I, ah, struck him with my knee.”
The man suddenly showed a gorgeous smile. So familiar—Kip’s smile. “That’s some muscular Christianity you have there, Mr. Fletcher.”
James didn’t smile back and turned his attention to his victim. “Are you able to stand, Mr. Darnley? I’m certain your fiancée is wondering where you are. You said you’d join her.”
The big man, who could only be some sort of relative, clapped a hand on Kip’s shoulder, then rose to his feet. He crossed his arms and studied James. “Why on earth did you knee Darnley in the balls?”
“He can tell you if he wishes.”
Kip had more color in his face but still took deep breaths between words. “Fletcher is a sodomite, and when he tried to pressure me to do horrible things, we got into a fight.”
“Hmm.” The man didn’t seem particularly shocked, which should have relieved James, but he still felt the haze of disinterest. None of this felt real.
What would he do now that he’d ruined his future here? Perhaps go to London. He’d have to talk to his bishop, of course, give an accounting of why he’d struck the son of the richest man for miles around, and now there was this tiresome added accusation of sodomy. Would it get back to his parents? Could he explain it away without lying right to their faces? He couldn’t bear that. Avoidance of the subject was one thing, but outright lying wasn’t in his nature.
Kip could sit up now, though he still hunched over his lap. He seemed to be fighting tears. “Curse you, James Fletcher. I’m going to talk to Hollister. I’m going to summon the constable.”
The stranger bent and offered a hand to Kip, who refused his help with a shake of his head. “It’s your own business, Kip. But with your wedding so soon, you’d probably be better off not raising a stink about the crooked curate. Stick to looking after Emma.”
“Emily,” James corrected.
From the floor, Kip protested. “Christ almighty, Declan! The sodomite attacked me.”
The stranger absently tapped his chin with two fingers, drumming a face so similar to one James had once longed to kiss but never had. He looked at James and then back at Kip, who had gotten to his feet but still wobbled. “That’s a strong accusation and a serious one. But I believe people will wonder—he’s about four inches and three stone smaller than you. Do you really want to stir up a scandal that might bring your own proclivities into question?”
Kip straightened and growled. “Never mind, then. Goddamn you, Jimmy.”
“Perhaps He will,” James agreed. “Go find your fiancée.”
Kip rubbed his face and apparently decided to ignore James’s existence. Still pale, he cleared his throat. “It’s about time you got here, cousin. I’ve told Miss Parker all about you, and she’s longing to meet you. Of course, the mater and pater will be delighted you’re here.” Kip was starting to regain his usual aplomb, that easy, pleasant manner with a touch of amused dominance. Soon his sharp wit would reappear. Once upon a time, James had regarded him as the epitome of sophisticated charm, even when he’d been sliced by Kip’s rapier tongue in front of the other youths.
Declan shifted from foot to foot. “Yes, I’ll be along soon.” He sounded impatient.
“How have you arrived? By train? You may ride back to the house in my carriage, if you like. We’ll send someone to fetch your luggage.”
A slight frown suggested the visiting cousin was in no hurry to reach his destination. “I’ve been sitting all day and would appreciate the chance to stretch my legs on a long walk. No need to give me a ride. Go to your Emily, and I’ll follow after,” he ordered.
Kip shot a worried look at Declan and a threatening one at James. Perhaps he feared leaving them alone lest James reveal Kip’s part in what had transpired. “Don’t waste your time on Fletcher,” he said and stalked off, limping a little.
Declan put his fists on his hips and turned toward James. “All right, man of the cloth, what was that about?”
James’s pulse raced, and the high-pitched ringing in his ears suggested he was on the verge of fainting. The magnitude of what had transpired and the accusations this stranger had heard suddenly hit him. The thing he’d feared his entire life appeared to finally be coming true—his secret had been exposed. James gripped the back of his office chair to steady himself and forced his voice not to quaver. “It’s best that you talk to him yourself.”
Declan sighed and moved to a table where a dusty decanter of wine sat. A parishioner had given the bottle to James, and he kept it for visitors and as a temptation for himself. Drink had been a part of his problem at university. The stranger poured himself a glass without asking for permission—most definitely one of Kip’s relations.
“I was outside this house and heard some of what Kip was shouting. Luckily, no one else was around to hear.” He observed James shrewdly over the rim of his glass. “You needn’t fear my spreading tales. Whatever you may have gotten up to with my boor of a cousin is your concern.”
James blinked, too shocked to form words. This tall, rugged stranger who’d strode into the room with the confident manner of a man who knew his place in the world—master of it—seemed the sort most likely to be utterly repelled by even the suggestion of a dalliance between men. Yet Declan dismissed the possibility with a mere shrug, as if it were of little consequence.
“Whatever happened, no doubt my cousin deserved a sharp kick in the balls,” the man drawled before taking a long swallow of wine.
Other Titles by Sumer Devon & Bonnie Dee
Seducing Stephen
The Gentleman and the Rogue
The Nobleman and the Spy
Sin and the Preacher’s Son
The Psychic and the Sleuth
The Gentleman’s Keeper
The Gentleman’s Madness
Mending Him
The Bohemian and the Banker
The Merchant and the Clergyman
Titles by Bonnie Dee
The Tutor
The Au Pair Affair
Jungle Heat
Peter and Wendell
Undeniable Magnetism
Star Flyer
Cage Match
Ignite!
Titles by Summer Devon
Sibling Rivals
Goodbye Phillip
Tail of the Dog
Taming the Bander
Revealing the Beast