“Before you do anything, I strongly suggest you consider discussing it with someone other than me.” I caressed her cheek when I saw she was worrying her bottom lip again.
“If I call my mom or my dad…” She shook her head.
“What about your friend?”
“Mouse? She’d tell me not to give him anything. In fact, she’d probably tell me to use the money to hire a hit man.”
Something told me the best friend and I would get on quite well.
“Let’s set that aside for a bit and circle back to the vicar. You mentioned your role as his assistant would be unofficial ‘for now.’ Did he give any indication when he’d like you to start?”
“As soon as I can.”
“What’s involved?”
Harper’s cheeks flushed my favorite shade of pink, but given we were talking about the vicar, I tried my damnedest not to think about sliding my hand under her blouse and toying with her nipples.
“He’s suggesting I assist with services here in Alfriston, primarily. Once I feel comfortable with that, I would take on another of the small churches.”
Delight shone in her eyes; I leaned forward and kissed one of her dimples. When she turned her head, I did the same to the other.
“I should put the food away,” she murmured moments before I covered her lips with mine.
“Leave it.” I gathered her in my arms and carried her into the bedroom, where I intended to make Harper my dessert.
On Saturday, Harper and I attended the morning service at the historic chapel. The vicar introduced her to the handful of residents in attendance, suggesting that with her assistance, services could go back to being held on Sundays. That alone appeared to endear her to the congregation.
Part of me hoped my presence wouldn’t incite God’s ire, given I couldn’t recall a time in my life when my family had attended a Sunday-morning service—or any other day of the week. There had been weddings and funerals, of course, but otherwise, I’d never warmed a pew.
In my line of work, there were many occasions when I’d prayed to a higher power either for myself or my teammates. I’d no idea what that power’s position was on taking another’s life, even when deemed necessary. I only hoped that the deity Harper so strongly believed in was benevolent when it came to me.
At the service’s conclusion, we stayed behind to chat while the vicar offered his apologies for rushing off to another of the five churches in his parish.
A number of the questions from the people gathered were addressed to me. I did, however, manage to steer the conversation back to Harper.
When one of the women invited us to join her family for lunch, I quickly mentioned our plans to visit Cuckmere Haven and the Seven Sisters Cliffs that afternoon. We had no such plans, but Harper’s quick acceptance and thanks for the reminder told me I was right to ward off an afternoon spent with one of the parishioners. If word got around we had, Harper would be expected to visit all of their homes.
“Thanks for helping me dodge that bullet,” she said as we walked from the church to the cottage.
“I vow to protect you from any and all bullets, whether literal or metaphoric.”
Harper tucked her arm in mine. “Hard to believe it was only one week ago I was supposed to be married.”
I couldn’t help but wonder if she considered that dodging a bullet as well. I certainly did.
“It seems so much longer, doesn’t it?”
“A lifetime.”
“Do you mind?” she asked, pointing to a bench on the edge of the path.
“Not at all.” We sat side by side, nodding at the people who walked by, sometimes saying hello, but otherwise, neither of us spoke. When we decided to, we both did at once.
“Go ahead,” I said.
Harper studied me. “I believe I was supposed to meet you, Saint. I thought perhaps I was supposed to meet Reverend Primrose too, but now I disagree. It was you who led me to him. The moment you got on the plane in DC, the course of my life was altered. Does my saying that make you uncomfortable?”
“Not in the least.” I draped my arm around her shoulders. “Have you considered that perhaps it was I who was supposed to meet you?”
“Maybe it was mutual. What were you going to say?”
“Oh, uh, I’ve forgotten.”
“No, you haven’t.”
She was right. I was too ashamed to admit I had been about to ask if she actually wanted to visit the Seven Sisters or skip that and spend the afternoon in bed.
Harper rested her head on my shoulder. “Would it be okay with you if we didn’t go on our walk?”
I almost laughed out loud. “I’m happy to do whatever you’d prefer.”
“Can we go back to the cottage?”
“Of course. What would you like to do once we arrive?”
Harper didn’t need words to respond. I knew she’d been thinking the same thing I was when her cheeks turned pink and she cast her gaze downward.
19
Harper
I wondered if most people had sex as much as Saint and I did. It seemed doubtful since we spent the better part of every day and night in bed.
Truly, it didn’t matter to me whether it was excessive. I couldn’t get enough of Saint’s naked body next to mine.
“You know what to do,” he said, closing the front door behind us. Need pooled between my legs from those words alone.
“I have particular desires I believe you will enjoy,” he’d said after I gave him my virginity. “When we are together, alone like this, I want you to do as I ask.”
Even then, before I had any idea what he meant, I knew I’d do whatever Saint told me to do. I suppose I should’ve worried what that might entail, but I didn’t.
“You were made for this,” he said now, as I removed my clothes, folded them, and placed the stack in his arms. Saint deposited it on the coffee table but appeared to change his mind as he walked toward the hall.
While I stood silently, hands clasped behind my back, waiting for him to tell me what to do next, Saint went into the bedroom. When he returned, he set one pillow on the coffee table and another on the sofa.
“I considered having you on your knees, but I’ve changed my mind.”
My eyes followed his movements as he spread a blanket on the same table he’d set the pillow.
“Here, Harper.” He pointed. “I want you on your back with your legs spread.”
If he didn’t know already, soon he’d be able to see evidence of how much I wanted this.
I got on the table, rested my head on the pillow, and was about to spread my legs when he did it for me.
“Keep your eyes on me, darling.” He stood where I could see him and removed his shirt. “Touch yourself, Harper. Both hands.” I knew where he meant.
I gasped when my finger skimmed over my swollen clit, hardly able to stand how good it felt. I wanted to give in to my body’s need to writhe, but I knew better. When he was like this, Saint wanted me still.
Once as naked as I was, Saint knelt at the end of the table, took ahold of each side of the blanket, and pulled me toward him so my pussy was almost hanging off the edge.
I knew better than to move my hands, even when I felt his tongue snake between my fingers.
“Hands above your head,” he said, positioning my legs over his shoulders. My knees trembled when his tongue swirled my clit and he eased two fingers inside me.
My head moved from side to side as the pressure building inside me came to a crashing halt when Saint moved his mouth away and nipped the inside of my thigh.
“Let me hear you, my darling.” When the moans I’d been holding in escaped my lips, he dove back in, mouth and hands. A climax ripped through my body, and my eyes met his. I knew he’d be watching me; he always did, even with his mouth attached to my pussy.
“Saint,” I whimpered, moaning his name. I watched him roll on a condom, pick up the pillow from the sofa, and tuck it under my bottom. He lifted my legs so they were
around his waist and entered me in one thrust. His fingers dug into the fleshy cheeks of my ass as he picked up his pace.
“Harper,” he groaned. I opened my eyes and stared into his. He stilled, and I could feel him pulsing inside me. Our eyes continued to bore into each other’s until he finally pulled out, gathered me in his arms, and carried my sated body into the bedroom.
I closed my eyes momentarily when he went into the bathroom to get rid of the condom. I opened them when I heard his footsteps returning, in time to see him put on another.
“I’m just getting started,” he said when my eyes opened wide and I smiled. I wasn’t at all surprised. Saint could keep this up for hours, us taking turns pleasuring each other, until all we had the strength for was sleep.
Saint arranged for us to spend two more weeks on our own at Fox Run Cottage. We’d visited the University of Sussex, which was certainly in the running. While not as welcoming as a place like Belmont University, its close proximity to Alfriston made it worth considering.
After putting Dr. Benjamin off three times, I finally talked Saint into returning to London the following week, using the excuse that I needed to visit that seminary and make a final decision.
Citing a delay in closing escrow on the cottage and wanting to get on with it, he agreed.
I understood his reluctance to leave Alfriston. Being here with him was like a dream. It wasn’t just the sex between us that was so amazing. Saint and I could spend hours talking too. I’d talked more to him in three weeks than I did to Dave in all the years I knew him.
Or didn’t know him. He certainly hadn’t known me.
I could talk to Saint about my fear and insecurity in wanting to pursue a life in ministry, and though I doubted he knew much about the life of a vicar, he appeared interested. Even enthusiastically reassuring me that it was a job meant for me.
In turn, he spoke at length about his life as an MI6 agent and whether he wanted to return to it.
We’d finally gone to Seven Sisters Cliffs as well as visiting the other towns in the area. In all that time, there’d never been a cross word spoken between us. Each day we were together ended with us sleeping in each other’s arms. There wasn’t any place in the world I’d rather be.
When I opened my eyes, light was streaming in the window and I was in bed alone. I could hear Saint’s voice from the other room. It sounded as though he was arguing with someone. I waited to make sure he was on the phone and there wasn’t another person with him, before getting out of bed, putting on the shirt he’d worn the day before, and joining him in the kitchen.
“Good morning,” I said when I saw his cell on the counter, the screen dark.
Saint pulled me into an embrace without responding.
“Difficult call?” I asked.
“My uncle got wind it was me buying the cottage. That’s the delay.”
“Why would he delay? I’d think he’d be happy to have it stay in the family.”
He pulled a chair away from the table, sat, and settled me on his lap. “In an interesting turn of events, he’s anxious for me to return to London.”
“Did he say why?”
“Evidently, there’s something besides the cottage he wants to discuss with me. I’m guessing it’s a matter he’d like me to look into on his behalf. In an official capacity, that is.”
“Does that mean you’d get your job back?”
Saint shook his head. “This is merely an assignment to see if I’m worthy of an offer to return.”
I was certainly no expert on MI6, but even I could see his uncle was manipulating him. “I don’t like the sound of this.”
“Neither do I.”
“I don’t know much about anything, but it seems like he’s using you.”
“You know everything.” Saint grasped the back of my neck and kissed me. He angled his head to go deeper and sneaked his hand between my legs. He groaned, perhaps at my lack of panties or maybe because I was already so wet for him.
He drew back and looked into my eyes. “I want you endlessly.”
“I feel the same.” I leaned down and kissed the side of his neck.
“However, there are things we need to talk about.” He shifted, so I got off his lap, stood, then motioned for me to sit in the chair we’d just vacated. He walked over to the kitchen counter and returned with two cups of coffee.
Since we arrived at the cottage, he hadn’t made tea in the morning, only coffee. When I asked about it, he said he preferred it but Miss Bardwell still insisted on tea, no matter how often he asked otherwise.
I took a sip. “What things?”
“He’s also insisting we join him and my aunt for dinner.”
“I’m sure it will be fine, Saint.”
“Tonight.”
“Does he always request a command performance?”
Saint scooted his chair closer to me and moved mine so my legs were between his. He put his hands on my hips. “He does not.”
“How did you respond?”
“I tried declining, but he was quite insistent.”
“If you want to go on your own…” What? Could I offer to stay here? Or return to London and stay at his flat?
“Harper?”
I looked into his mesmerizing blue eyes.
“Where I go, you go too. Or vice versa. Even when you’re in seminary class, or whatever you call it, I’ll be sitting outside the door, waiting to walk you to your next.”
I laughed and was about to suggest we go back to bed when his cell phone rang again.
“It’s the man who found your ex and got your money back.” He accepted the call and when I stood, tried to pull me back into the chair.
“Bathroom,” I whispered, and he let go.
20
Saint
“I’m just about to board a plane headed your way,” said Decker Ashford when I answered his call.
“You are? What’s bringing you to London?”
“Quick stopover for Mila, Huck, and me on our way to Mallorca.”
“Mallorca?” Why in the devil would Decker be taking his wife and baby son there?
“For Rile’s wedding. That reminds me, he said you didn’t RSVP.”
“I didn’t get an invitation.” The familiar feeling of being excluded sat heavy on my chest.
“The hell, you didn’t. I vetted everyone on the list, and that included you.”
I ran my hand through my hair. Had I truly been invited? “When is it?”
“Next weekend. You gonna make it?”
“Is it too late to vet a plus one?”
Decker laughed. “You don’t seriously think she hasn’t been already?”
There was no reason for either of us to qualify who we were talking about. “I’ll message him now and offer my apologies for my late response.”
“Good deal.”
“Where are you staying in London?”
“Not far from you. The Wellesley.”
Harper came out of the lavatory but went straight into the bedroom.
“I know you’re on holiday, but I’m wondering if you’d have time for a brief meeting?” I asked.
“I was about to ask you the same thing, Saint. Gotta run now, though. I’ll be in touch after we’re settled.”
I walked into the bedroom in search of Harper and found her packing. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you about that.” I waved my hand at her luggage. “Perhaps it’s time you had a place to put your things.”
She flushed. Red, not pink.
I walked over and put my hands on her shoulders. “What’s wrong?”
“I feel like a gypsy.” She plopped down on the bed with a heavy sigh. “I don’t know. Maybe this is crazy.”
Every muscle in my body tensed. “What’s crazy?”
“Alfriston. Being a vicar’s assistant. What am I even doing?”
The tautness eased a bit at not hearing my name mentioned in the list. “What would you do if you returned to the States?”
She s
hrugged. “I guess I’d either continue on at Belmont or look for somewhere to complete my advanced degree.”
“You said you weren’t certain about your field, and yet here, you seemed excited.”
When Harper rested her head on my shoulder, my muscles turned to mush in relief. I wasn’t the specific cause of her uncertainty; the ease with which things fell together for her was.
“You told me you believe we were meant to meet.”
“I do.”
“I believe it too. What’s more, I believe in you, Harper.”
“Why?”
I shifted my body and hers so we were lying on the bed, and pulled her into my arms. “The same reason you believe in me.”
“But, I’m—”
“I’m a bloody wanker for always interrupting you, and I don’t know what disparaging thing you meant to say about yourself, but I won’t allow it. I’ve never met anyone like you, and I mean that in the absolute most positive way. You’re smart and funny, the most down-to-earth, accepting, giving, warm, wonderful, beautiful, sexy person I’ve ever known.”
She buried her face in my shoulder, but I heard her whisper, “Thanks.”
“Have I told you that when we first met, you reminded me of someone?”
“No.”
“I spoke of her, though. Dr. Charles. She’s the woman at MIT I was assigned to recruit as an MI6 asset.”
She raised her head. “I remind you of her? Boy, are you off base!”
“Given you know little about her, I wonder what makes you say that.”
“Expert on foreign policy compared to church leadership. Slightly different.”
“Until I met you, I believed Emerson Charles had the purest heart I’d ever known. She doesn’t hold a candle to you.”
“Were you in love with her?”
“I fancied myself to be. I was wrong, though.”
Sainted Page 11