Chapter Ten

O nce Grantford left—after promising to spend a week in the area—Thomas still couldn't concentrate on his sermon writing. The girls hadn't returned, neither had Genevieve, and it was too early for dinner, so he took himself off for a walk, hoping the exercise would calm the restlessness of his body and quell the heat in his blood.

He didn't know how long or how far he'd walked, but his mind hadn't cleared, nor had he succeeded in removing the governess from his thoughts. And damn, it was deuced hot.

A tiny miracle occurred when the sun ducked behind a large cluster of fat, fluffy clouds, but he wasn't so fortunate about his thoughts. As if he'd conjured her from thin air, Gigi appeared on the road ahead, obviously coming from the direction of her father's property.

He tipped his face to the sky. Why are you testing me, God? Was he to go through a set of trials like Job? Or perhaps he would be turned into a pillar of salt like Lot's wife for disobedience. Neither were favorable choices.

It wasn't until she came much closer that he spied a trace of moisture on her face and lingering in her eyes beneath her bonnet. When she finally glanced at him, she offered him a wobbly smile. "Hullo, Thomas." Dust and dirt had marred the hem of the pale blue walking dress as well as the toes of the half boots she wore. "Uh, have the girls been escorted home yet?"

"They hadn't been when I set out." He came a few steps closer and peered more fully into her face. "Are you well?" Worry knotted in his gut. Was she still out of sorts about what occurred—or not—between them the other night? It seemed he was largely still a coward, for he couldn't bring himself to ask. "Has something happened with your parents?"

"Everything is fine." When she attempted to move past him, he stepped into her path.

"You are either not skilled in lying or you are too upset to try." Not able to remain parted from her, he gently rested a gloved hand on her shoulder. "What has you at sixes and sevens? I want to help if I can." Perhaps focusing on her problems would make him forget about the unrelenting lust that flowed through his body with all the heat of lava.

"I don't know if anyone can help right now." She sounded so forlorn that his chest tightened, and his heart squeezed.

"Tell me what happened." Then he took her hand and threaded it through his crooked elbow as he set them into motion on the empty road. "Don't think of me as your vicar; I am merely a friend." A friend who compromised the hell out of her and they hadn't talked about that since the night.

Gigi's hand trembled on his sleeve. "Once the girls were safely at their friends' farm, I walked over for a visit with my parents, since seeing them on Sundays just doesn't feel like enough."

"That's understandable." For the most part, he remained silent, for he didn't wish to break her concentration.

"I arrived in time for tea; Mama and Papa had just sat down. My younger sisters were also there. Nora was apparently out on an errand." When she held her lush bottom lip briefly between her teeth, his world nearly spun, for the gesture only made him want to kiss her. "It would have been a lovely time except…"

"Yes?"

Her swallow was audible, and her fingers tightened on his arm. "My father's condition has rapidly declined. Today, he barely recognized me." The waver in her voice had him wanting to throw himself on his knees to beg her forgiveness and to pledge his life to her, so he could protect her, have the right to do that and so many other things. "Mama said it wasn't one of his better days. She reassured me that he wasn't always like that."

The poor thing. "What did you do?" He couldn't imagine trying to interact with a family member who barely knew him.

"What could I do? I kept telling him who I was, and that he was my father." She shook her head and brushed at the tears on her cheeks with her free hand. "It was so sad, Thomas! I don't know what I'll do once he fades completely from this world."

"Such is the human experience, I'm afraid. We all have an expiration date, which is why it's so important that we love and cherish those around us while we can." Damn, if that couldn't fit into his situation as well.

"And my poor mother. She grows weaker with every passing week. I think having Nora at home as well as Papa's health is wearing on her." For long moments, she remained silent. "My sister Emmaline is thinking of conducting painting lessons for coin. She's offered to teach the girls one day a week if I walk them over."

"That sounds reasonable. I can no doubt find the funding for that." And it would keep Geneieve with him all the longer.

"It's appreciated. Even though my older sisters continue to send money home when they're able, I'm afraid it isn't enough, for at times, Mama cannot apply it to the taxes."

"Where is it going?"

She snorted, no doubt near a breaking point. "Food, drink, paying the servants what she can." A half-stifled sob escaped her throat. "There is always something to pay, and I'm so afraid for them." When she stepped a bit closer to his side, as if she were seeking comfort, he patted her hand. It simply wouldn't do to slip an arm about her in public where anyone could come upon them on the road. "I spied a letter saying the tax assessor would visit the manor soon to discuss future plans."

"Oh, Gigi, I'm so sorry." If their manor were lost, where would they go? "Perhaps you can all go up to London and live with… Amelia, is it? And her viscount?"

"I suppose." Tears threatened in her voice. "It's all just so much. I cannot let myself think on it; it will tear me apart." She sniffled, tugged on his arm, and drew him to a halt. As she stared up at him and their gazes connected, he was in danger of falling into the blue pools of her eyes and drowning. "I don't want to go back to the vicarage just yet."

"Why?" Had he suddenly lost the ability to converse like an intelligent man in her presence?

She shrugged. "It's too… proper, respectable." When she smiled, it was a watery affair. "It might sound silly to you, but I need to do something crazy to distract me from reality." As she tried to pull away, he kept hold of her hand. "I don't care if you think it's wrong; it's what I'm feeling. I'm not as good or as strong as you, I guess."

In many ways, Genevieve was like a lost lamb. Protection welled for her. "I am not perfect, and neither am I on a pedestal." It was important that she understand that. "I constantly fall short of being honorable or holy."

After she blew out a breath, she nodded. "Perhaps, but there is nothing that says you must be either. Just because you're a vicar doesn't mean you should keep yourself locked away from everything that might bring joy or happiness or pleasure."

Not this again. He was far too exhausted and ruffled in spirit to have such an argument. "I can only do what I can. If that makes me weak in the spine, so be it." Perhaps that was the only way she would lose interest in him.

"Ha. Now who is the one dissembling?" When she met his gaze once more, her moisture-spiked lashes captured his imagination. The moisture magnified her eyes and made them luminous. "Why does everyone associated with the Church believe they must be dull in order for them to live a good and wholesome life? Do you really think God wishes to deny his followers excitement or intimate connection?"

"Well, I—"

Apparently, she was only starting her discourse. "For that matter, do you truly believe God wants you to live stuck between the pages of a Bible as if you were a pressed flower, that your only purpose in life is to deliver sermons and bring the lost to Him? That you don't deserve notice or to be admired?"

"I hadn't given that much thought." None of it was making him think of her as only one of his parishioners, so he forced a swallow into his suddenly dry throat. "What do you believe?" Perhaps that would help him understand her better.

"I believe that a deity who spent so much time in making a world such as this, in developing so many different kinds of animals and people and environments wouldn't want any of his creations to suffer or hold themselves aloof. He would want you to enjoy everything He has given you."

"That's true enough, but sin—"

"No. It's a tactic the Church uses for control, to keep people in line and giving tithes, which line leaders' pockets." She shook her head so hard, a lock of hair tumbled from beneath her bonnet. "I think if you found yourself before God at the end of your life, He would ask you why you didn't love and enjoy things and people. Why you taught others that they could only worship Him in a church and not out in nature where there is His glory everywhere one looks."

"Yes, but—"

She wasn't having his interruptions. "God would be puzzled by the fact the Church decrees the only purpose for love making is reproduction and not enjoyment." When she narrowed her eyes, they shot blue lightning. "Why the devil would God give humans the capacity to feel ecstasy, to soar in bliss with another person—which is the closest we can probably ever be to experiencing that perfect love God has for his Church—if we weren't supposed to chase that high?"

"Oh, Gigi." In many ways, her questions were like the ones he'd uttered in seminary school, where some of his teachers couldn't find decent answers. Had he forgotten the early vim and vigor he had during those early days when he could still think for himself? "I adore the fact that you encourage me to dig deeper."

"Well… good, because you are better than the masses." She stalked away from him as her temper flared, and damn his eyes, she was magnificent. "Further, I don't understand why anyone would say everything good and lovely was bad or against the Church's teachings if not to control the populace. Have those stodgy old men in charge never known what it is to love, to give themselves to someone or something, to take in the beauty, the glory, the all-consuming feelings that make us remember we are indeed alive? Wouldn't that encourage them to think more fondly of God, or to see him as loving instead of vengeful?"

He unexpectedly lost a piece of his heart to her in that moment, and he desperately wished to rekindle his own fire. "All good points. I appreciate your perspective," he said as he caught up to her.

"Yet you won't change." Her sigh sounded all too defeated. "For all your talk of just that, you are a prisoner to the Church, of their dictates, some man's opinions. That's a pity." She glanced at him with her eyes the color of deep blue sapphires in the filtered sunlight. "Go on with your walk. I'll go alone… somewhere."

Puzzlement immediately set in, for his mind still reeled from her impassioned speech. "Why?"

"I am still out of sorts with you and quite disillusioned." Then her chin quivered, a sure sign she was close to a breaking point. "Perhaps I am also a tad disappointed, and I don't like having all these feelings." She took a few steps away from him. "I'm going into the village. There is a young man there who will give me what I need without the lectures or the sermon."

Over my dead and quite cold body. "No."

"What?" As her lips turned down in a frown, she shook her head. "The girls don't need me at present—"

"Exactly," he interrupted as one final decision swept over him. "You are coming with me."

She scoffed. "Why should I? After all, aren't I the human equivalent of Sodom and Gomorrah? Isn't that what you tried to impart the other night? A weight about your ankle that will drown you in sin?"

"I am quite sorry I said those things. Obviously, they aren't true." To a point. Unless that wasn't what he truly thought, and his mind was steeped in confusion. Heat crept up his neck. "I didn't mean that."

"Then you shouldn't have said it."

"Oh, I am well aware of that, and have berated myself ever since." He tugged at the knot of his cravat. "You challenge me in every conceivable way." It needed to be said again.

Genevieve shrugged, but her expression softened a bit. "I suppose you don't like that either."

In this moment, he refused to debate with himself on what was right or what was wrong. He only knew that he wanted her, that his world wouldn't be complete until he had joined with her body, taught her everything he knew, and they were left sated and exhausted. Only then could she truly be out of his blood. "On the contrary." Beyond caring about propriety or proper behavior, Thomas hauled her into his arms, brought his mouth crashing down on hers, and he proceeded to kiss her thoroughly. Afterward, when he released her, she stumbled, and he grinned. "Do you wish to come with me or not? There will be no lectures."

Her eyes had rounded and darkened with the same desire coursing through his veins. "That depends."

"On?" Need caused his pulse to pound and his shaft to follow suit.

"What my incentive is in such an action."

Little minx. He put his lips to her ear and then whispered, "Bliss and filthy, unrepentant sin, Miss Hasting." When she gasped, he kissed her again, because he could. "I intend to send you flying until you cry mercy. I shall worry over the state of my soul and yours later, damn the consequences."

Perhaps she wasn't the only one who could make impassioned speeches.

"I'm quite proud of you, Mr. Alderman, so I accept your premise." She held out her hand and when he grasped it, she grinned. "I look forward to seeing how you make your case for scandal."

There were worse ways to spend a late July afternoon, and Thomas couldn't wait to start.