Saint squeezed my shoulders and kissed my temple. I expected him to drop his arm, but he didn’t.
“I love seeing you this way,” Eliza said, smiling indulgently at her cousin and me in a way that made me uncomfortable. Very uncomfortable. Saint and I hardly knew each other. Had he given her the impression otherwise?
“I’ll just get you settled, then,” said Miss Bardwell, who I hadn’t noticed standing in the kitchen doorway.
“We will,” said Saint, kissing my temple a second time before leaving the room with Miss Bardwell in tow.
Eliza plucked a piece of bacon off Saint’s plate. “So, I hear you’ve an interest in becoming a vicar.”
“Ministry of some sort. Yes. At least that’s how I felt before the wedding.”
Eliza’s eyes opened wide.
“Wait. That isn’t what I meant. I was supposed to be married, but my ex-fiancé decided he didn’t want to go through with it. I’m not actually married.”
She put her hand on her heart.
“What?” asked Saint, rejoining us.
“I thought you’d neglected to tell me you and Harper were wed.”
“I was just saying that before the ‘non-wedding,’ I’d been reconsidering whether I would go into ministry.”
Saint studied me. “Are you leaning against it now?”
I couldn’t help but wonder why he’d ask, particularly with his cousin hanging on our every word. “I have many decisions to make before that one. My whole life to figure out, really.”
Saint looked distracted but nodded before glancing at the table at my untouched meal. “Harper, you haven’t eaten!” He pulled out my chair, and after I sat, pulled out the one he’d occupied previously for his cousin. “What about you, Eliza? Fancy some breakfast?”
“I ate on the train,” she said, motioning for him to be seated. “Harper, I hope you don’t mind my crashing here. I usually stay with Saint when I’m in town, so I can avoid the inquisition from Nigel and Millicent.”
“Millicent is Eliza’s mother,” Saint explained as he took a seat and started eating the now-cold food.
“I am only a guest myself,” I said when I noticed Eliza appeared to be waiting for my response.
“Very well, but if I’m a nuisance, don’t hesitate to say so.”
“I will not hesitate for even a moment,” said Saint, winking at me.
“He’s always been that way. Doesn’t care at all about my feelings,” Eliza teased before she leaned down and kissed Saint’s cheek. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ll just go freshen up.”
“My apologies. I had no idea Eliza was planning a visit until last night after you’d gone to bed,” Saint said once his cousin had left the room.
“You don’t need to apologize or explain. This is your house…err…flat.”
He leaned forward. “I want you to be comfortable here.” He took a breath as if he was going to say something more but shook his head.
“What?”
“Miss Bardwell said your bag is packed.”
I knew my cheeks had turned red, and with the hurt look in his eyes, I knew I had to tell him the truth. “I overheard your conversation. I’m so sorry to have eavesdropped.”
“My conversation?”
“Last night.”
He looked as though he was trying to recall it.
“I heard you say you’d try to get away, and then you called the person you were talking to ‘love.’”
“I see.”
I felt so ashamed I was ready to rush out, grab my bag, and leave, just like I’d planned to. “I’m sorry.” Before I could scoot my chair back and stand, I heard Saint say my name. It was barely above a whisper, but the emotion I heard in it made my heart hurt.
“Please understand, my cousin and I have always been close, given neither of us have siblings. When I called her ‘luv,’ it was simply a term of endearment.” He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I know this makes no sense. I’ve thought about little else besides you and how the amount of time I spent thinking about you must make you feel. If I could explain it, I would. The closest I can get is to say I feel as though fate intervened the day of your wedding. While I cannot celebrate the pain and humiliation you felt nor the hurt and disappointment after discovering what your ex-fiancé did to you, I do believe that—for me—the stars aligned in the exact right order to put you directly in my path.”
I took off my glasses and covered my face with my hands when my eyes filled with tears for the millionth time since I’d met Saint. No one, other than the man himself, had ever said anything so unbelievably sweet to me.
“I’ve done it again, haven’t I?”
Instead of answering, I pushed back my chair and held my hand out to him. When he took it, I pulled him to his feet, put my arms around his waist, and rested my head on his chest. “Thank you.”
“Harper?”
I turned my head to look at him but didn’t stop there. I reached up and kissed him.
14
Saint
I didn’t recall ever feeling such a profound sense of relief as I did when Harper, for the first time, embraced me of her own volition.
When she brought her lips to mine, I wanted to take control of the kiss, but stopped myself, allowing her to take the lead. When she pushed her tongue between my lips, I felt dizzy with desire but somehow managed to hold back. She pressed harder, thrusting her tongue deeper. I responded but with the rein on my passion held tightly.
When Harper’s hand settled on my chest, right above my hammering heart, I wondered if she could feel how hard it was beating.
She put her opposite hand on my other pec and massaged the flesh beneath my shirt. When she leaned forward and kissed the skin just above my open collar, I lost hold of my control.
Burying my hand in her hair, I dragged her head up for a long, deep, hot kiss—one I never wanted to end. It did, though, when my cousin returned to the kitchen and cleared her throat.
“I’d say I’m sorry for interrupting, but I’m not.”
“You’re a nuisance,” I muttered, desperately wishing Harper and I had done more of this when we were alone. I’d been the governor of that accelerator, though, something I now regretted.
“I’ve been summoned. Evidently, my father’s new position allows him access to the travel records of whomever he pleases. As he’s aware I’ve arrived, I am now expected to join him for lunch. I’d apologize, but I somehow think you don’t mind my leaving in the least.”
I didn’t, and I doubted Harper would either.
“Oh, and Miss Bardwell will walk me out.”
The idea that in mere moments, I’d be alone with Harper left me breathless, particularly when I heard hers hitch. I closed my eyes, willing myself to exercise restraint, take things slow, treat her with all the gentleness, respect, and care she needed and deserved.
“Don’t forget your appointment this afternoon,” I heard Miss Bardwell holler from the other room. I had, in fact, forgotten entirely, and since it was more Harper’s appointment than mine, I couldn’t cancel. I looked at the time. We had an hour before we had to leave. Too much and too little. Instead, we’d leave early and spend more time exploring the village we’d be visiting.
Once I was certain we were alone in the flat, I cupped Harper’s cheek, put my arm around her waist, and pulled her body flush with mine.
“What appointment?” she asked as I nuzzled her neck.
“I’ve someone I want you to meet,” I murmured before returning to my task of nibbling my way down the curve of her shoulder.
“Who?” Her voice was breathy with desire, making me wish I’d scheduled for tomorrow instead. However, I was lucky to get an appointment at all.
“It’s a surprise.”
Harper wriggled from my grasp. “Who?”
Noticing her furrowed brow made me feel terrible. The last thing she should be expected to accept without question was a surprise. She’d had too many of those over the past few days,
none of them pleasant.
“I’ve arranged for a meeting with the vicar of a small parish in a village south of London. As he travels quite extensively, he didn’t have many openings in his schedule.”
Harper studied me. “Why?”
“I thought it might interest you. If it doesn’t, I suppose I could—”
She stopped me talking by crushing her lips to mine. After kissing me soundly, Harper took a step back, cheeks pink and gaze lowered.
If not for the meeting with the vicar, I would not have been able to resist my desire to claim her.
“You’re a very good kisser,” she whispered, bringing her fingertips to her lips. “Lots of practice,” she added under her breath.
Rather than argue, defend myself, or otherwise, I did as she had. I tugged her close then took my time, nibbling her lower lip, softly brushing my lips against hers, tracing the outline of her mouth with my tongue, and finally, diving in with a promise of passion later—once we were back at the flat and alone.
I pulled away and rested my forehead against hers. “It isn’t about being a good kisser; it’s about who I’m sharing the kiss with. Like making love, whatever happens with our mouths, our lips, our tongues, isn’t something I’m doing to you or you’re doing to me. It’s us coming together. I will never experience another kiss like the one we just shared, unless it is with you. And Harper, you are an excellent kisser.”
“You say the sweetest things.”
“I don’t. Not to anyone else anyway. Like so many other things, who I am with you…”
“Finish.”
I smiled. “Who I am with you, Harper Godfrey, is the man I want to be.”
“But it isn’t the real you?”
“I can understand why you’d think that’s what I meant. But it is the real me. I suppose you could say you bring out the best in me.”
“I have a hard time believing you aren’t this way with everyone.”
Not that she’d asked, and I’d certainly never offer, but there were plenty of women who would vehemently argue that point.
The drive to Alfriston in East Sussex would take us just under two hours. Along the way, I imparted as much as I could recall about the historic village.
“It is an area rich in religious history, dating back to the year 1086. The clergy house”—I cleared my throat—“akin to a vicarage, was built in the fourteenth century.”
Much in the same way she’d appeared fascinated by my story about Adam Benjamin, Harper looked transfixed. Especially so when I told her about the church we’d be visiting.
“It’s said to be the smallest in England, although it is one of many claiming to be so. The vicar is responsible for, as he put it, the ‘spiritual life’ of a total of five small churches in the area.”
“It’s far closer to what I dreamed of when I first decided to go into the ministry. The idea of megachurches is the reason I reconsidered my career path. I suppose that’s why it was easy for me to tell your uncle I was considering a parish. The part about it being in England was a stretch, but whenever I closed my eyes and imagined my future, something small and quaint was what I always saw.”
If I could influence her future, the part about a parish in England wouldn’t be a stretch at all.
While I’d spent a good deal of time in the area known as South Downs when I was a lad. Seeing it as I guessed Harper was, I was taken by the vividness of luscious green fields dotted with a herd of black-and-white cows drinking from a pond that appeared bright blue from the sky’s reflection. The vast network of rolling mountains and the gorges and cliffs of chalk were something I’d explored endlessly. Based on her look of awe, I was sure Harper would enjoy walking the countless trails as much as I had. When did I stop making time to simply get out of London and breathe in fresh air?
While I’d anticipated we’d arrive early, our meeting with the Reverend Oliver Primrose was scheduled in a half hour. Rather than risk being late, I suggested we walk the grounds of the church.
As we exited the car, my senses were assaulted by the aroma of damp moss and wet tree trunks of the ancient wood, combined with the unmistakable smell of the salty sea. I breathed in deeply and allowed the memories of my childhood to remind me that life could be serene, peaceful, filled with hope.
It was no wonder so many writers made the South Downs region their home. The inspiration was endless.
“It’s magical,” I heard Harper say, perhaps more to herself than me.
I had to admit there was no more perfect word to describe the bucolic setting.
“Welcome,” I heard someone call out, and turned to see the man I assumed to be the reverend approaching. Not that I would’ve known by his attire. He looked more like an English country gentleman dressed in tweed trousers, a dark olive-green waxed jacket with a brown corduroy collar, and Wellington boots.
“Miss Godfrey and Mr. St. Thomas, I presume?”
“That would be right. You must be Reverend Primrose.”
After our introductions and a brief tour of the ancient grounds, I excused myself to allow Harper a private meeting with the vicar. “I won’t be far off,” I promised before kissing her cheek.
“Would be difficult to get far on foot in a place like Alfriston.”
I tipped my cap that I’d donned after we got out of my 4x4, then went off in search of a very particular place.
I recognized the four-hundred-year-old cottage as soon as I rounded the corner onto the cobblestone road where Eliza and I first learned to ride bicycles.
It was my cousin who’d told me her father still owned it and had been renting it as a vacation destination up until the time he got the job as foreign secretary. Now, though, he was anxious to sell and was getting ready to put it on the market. When I asked if she wanted it, she assured me there was nothing she’d like less.
His selling, though, was an atrocity I could hardly bear. Had I put my flat on the market—even though I’d inherited it from my father’s side of the family—there was no doubt Uncle Nigel would’ve added the “travesty” to my long list of disappointing behaviors.
While I couldn’t gain access inside without alerting him, I walked around the perimeter of the property, astounded at how much of the garden I remembered. It was wild with brambles, weeds, and huge nettles, but beneath all that, I could see its beauty.
Once around back, where I couldn’t be seen from the street, I traipsed through the thicket to peer in the windows at the large fireplaces and the wooden beams of the ceiling.
“Hello,” I heard a woman’s voice say. “May I help you?”
I backed out of the dense bushes, doing my best not to tear my trousers, and wiped my hands on my jacket. “I’m Niven St. Thomas,” I said, extending my hand that I hoped was clean enough to not be off-putting.
“Niven, you say?”
“That’s right.”
“Niven!” She beamed. “I haven’t seen you since you were a wee lad. I’m sure you don’t remember me, but your parents and Miss Eliza’s would leave the two of you in my care from time to time.”
“My apologies that I do not. It’s been many years since I’ve visited.”
“What brings you round this way now?”
“I heard my uncle intends to sell.”
The woman nodded, confirming it was common knowledge. “In fact, he’s contacted my Barbara to handle the sale.”
“Barbara?”
“My daughter. She lives right over there.” The woman pointed across the way to another cottage. “There she is now.”
A woman came out the front door and waved as she crossed the road and joined us.
“Barbara, dear, this is Niven St. Thomas.”
“You don’t say.”
“Pleasure to meet you,” I said, extending my hand to her like I had her mother.
“Again.”
“Sorry?”
“You, Eliza, and I used to be thick as thieves. Of course, you were a couple of years younger than me then.” The
woman laughed heartily. “Still are, in fact.”
I laughed. “Your mother tells me my uncle contacted you regarding handling the sale.”
“He did, although there are repairs to be made before it can be listed.”
“What’s the asking price?”
“We’ve discussed eight hundred seventy-five thousand pounds, but it could be more.”
“Is there somewhere we could talk privately?” I asked when I saw more of the neighbors assembling outside the gate.
“I’ve the key. Let’s go in.”
While we invited her to join us, Barbara’s mother, whose name I hadn’t gotten, said she’d deal with the “tourists,” as she’d called them.
Once inside, I asked what the fair market value was for the cottage, added twenty thousand pounds, and requested she make an offer through a limited liability corporation I’d created several years prior.
She raised a brow but agreed to do as I asked.
Regardless of what did or did not happen in any other part of my life, mainly with Harper, I couldn’t stand by and let the cottage go to anyone outside of our family.
“Are you back to London, then?” Barbara asked.
“Not certain. Think there’s any room at one of the inns this evening?”
She handed me the key. “You can stay here.”
“I don’t want to get you in a fix with my uncle.”
She laughed. “He’ll be none the wiser. I manage it as a vacation rental too.”
I checked the time and decided to head back to the church, given I’d have as much time as I would like to explore the cottage tonight.
15
Harper
“It’s such a lovely chapel,” I said when the vicar invited me to join him in the sanctuary.
“What is your first memory of a sacred place?”
“Easter when I was seven years old,” I blurted. It was a memory so vivid, I didn’t need to think about it.
“Tell me what you recall.” He took a seat in a pew, and I sat beside him.
Sainted Page 8