Chapter Eight

H ellfire and damnation. That was what waited for him if he called the lady out on her bluff, and she was a huge temptation, in both words and looks. When he'd come upon her, realized that she was bringing herself to pleasure, his world had tilted. He'd only followed her out of the house to lend protection, but this had the potential to become so much more if he weren't careful.

And he couldn't stop staring at her.

In the moonlight, with her golden hair falling down her back and over her shoulders in long damp curls, she was every inch a celestial goddess or a woodland sprite. Clad only in a shift that clung scandalously to every curve she owned, she could easily be a siren of old. The dark pink tips of her hardened nipples showing through the thin fabric nearly had him on his knees, but it was her forthright and daring attitude that captivated him whole and drew him toward her.

"You think I'm somehow less now that I've become a vicar." It wasn't a question.

When she shrugged, the damp fabric pulled taut across her breasts. Interest shivered along his shaft. "I didn't say that, but are you?"

"I would like to believe I am not. However, I've also not been with a woman since I took the position as vicar here." He'd never admitted that to anyone, not even his close friends, for not only was it embarrassing, but it was also slightly puzzling.

One of her eyebrows rose in surprise. "Then you should be well primed, hmm?"

Every word she spoke chipped away at his resolve to remain a gentleman. "Why are you so intent on entering scandal and dragging me with you?"

Genevieve stepped over the grass to him, pausing only when she was a hand's breadth away from him. Her eyes were round and dark in the moonlight, full of the same desire currently slamming through his veins. "What is the point of living if you don't ever do things that remind you that you are truly alive?"

What indeed?

The remainder of his willpower dissolved like sugar in the rain, and with a growl, Thomas tugged her into his arms and at the same time, he claimed her lips in a fierce kiss.

Like the last time they'd come together like this, there was every bit of that odd connection, as if someone had dropped a match to dry tender, only this time that energy was somehow enhanced. Was it due to the fact they were under cover of nightfall, in varying degrees of undress, caught up finally in a wave of passion neither one could deny?

It didn't matter, for in this moment, there was only her and him, and he couldn't deny that he wanted this woman.

Pulling away merely to breathe and perhaps feast his gaze on the delicious picture she made when she wasn't forced to convey a proper image, Thomas grinned. In the shadows of the night, she was more beautiful and alluring than she'd ever been while sharing tea or dinner with him.

"You are leading me on a merry chase, my dear, so where do you want this to end?" he asked in a barely audible voice, even though they were very clearly alone while the nighttime world buzzed and croaked and skittered around them.

"Does it matter?" With a wicked twinkle in her eyes, Genevieve retreated as he advanced, edging more toward a small clearing not far from the stream. "Can I not desire a string of scandalous kisses?"

"Is that what you wish to stop at?" When she didn't answer, merely grinned, he quickly continued. "After all, we have been flirting with the fine line between scandal and propriety ever since you took the position to governess."

"Ha. Well, I have." She chuckled as he stepped closer, so close the heat from her body seeped into his. "The question now remains: will we step over the line?" Then she plucked at the fine lawn of his loose shirt and pulled him closer. When he slipped his arms around her, she grinned. "Are you brave enough?"

"In this moment? I would say yes." And he would pray for forgiveness later. Needing to touch her, Thomas slipped one of his hands to cup her cheek, but not wanting her to be in control, he yanked her hard against his body… and his length pulsed in agreement. Damn, but it felt good to have a woman in his arms again.

And a willing woman at that.

"That is an encouraging first step."

"Why do I feel you enjoy exchanging verbal swords with me far too much?" When interest flickered through her eyes, he slid a hand down her spine to rest on one of her buttocks. "Shall we move onto the next phase?"

"I will say yes, quite enthusiastically, and if knocks you from that lofty pedestal you've placed yourself on, all the better."

"Ah, Gigi, your thinking is both wrong but refreshing and makes me think deeper." Because he could, and he needed to feel her lips on his, he crushed his mouth to hers in an opening salvo.

With a soft sound of surprise at the back of her throat, she moved her hands up his chest and loosely looped her arms about his shoulders. Then she apparently wanted to kiss him back and make it a memorable embrace.

Well played, my lady.

But he refused to let her boss him during that kiss. Instead, he settled her more comfortably into his embrace, and then he took full command of the kiss, for he wasn't a former rogue for nothing. If she wanted a tryst, he would give her the best of what he knew. Thomas moved over her lips with slow leisure that he hoped would drive her mad. When she applied pressure at his nape in a bid to hurry him along, he ignored her and took his time.

"It would behoove you to learn patience, Miss Hasting," he whispered and then kissed her all the more.

Over and over, he nipped and nibbled her lips. Soft but firm, those two pieces of flesh both cradled his and provided enough stimulation and heat that his body started to vibrate and shift with the wonder of doing anything so intimate.

When he drew the tip of his tongue along her lower lip, she shivered and gasped, held him ever closer. With a smug chuckle, he fenced with her tongue, wishing to make a lasting impression, and one she wouldn't soon forget. Time seemed to slow as they both chased that erotic delight that only kissing in the French style could give, and all too soon he was randy as hell.

Desire clouded his brain as the heady embrace continued. Though it was the middle of summer, he craved her heat, both inside and out. In a matter of seconds their bodies were layered scandalously against each other as they continued to fight for dominance in the embrace. Damn if it wasn't breathtaking, made him regret giving up that sort of life in favor of the Church. The faint floral scent of her accelerated his heartbeat, and he wanted her all the more.

Eventually, he pulled away to drag his lips down the satiny side of her neck while her fingers went into his hair. Then he guided his lips to the tops of her breasts above the plain bodice of her shift while he drew his hands up and down her sides.

"How are you so intoxicating?" he whispered against her skin, and he didn't give her a chance to answer, for he cupped her breasts, teased the nipples through the thin fabric, and every breath she took, every shiver she executed, fired his need.

"I could ask the same of you," she said and licked at the underside of his jaw. "Never before have I been so attracted to anyone connected with the Church."

He should have put a halt to this interlude right then, but he couldn't keep his hands off her body, couldn't bear to relinquish the closeness between them. "Shall I consider myself honored, then?" There was something about the feel and warmth of her modest breasts in his hands, how the hardened nipples demanded his attention, and he was only a man without willpower any longer, so dipped his head and took one of those pebbled tips into his mouth.

"Thomas, yes!" The hiss of approval hovered on the summertime air. Genevieve arched her back, which put her more firmly into his hold, and he couldn't be more thrilled.

"This is only the beginning," he whispered around her nipple before moving to the other tip and starting the seduction all over again. If she wished for a tryst, he would enter into it wholeheartedly, for a sin was a sin.

Wasn't it?

Pushing the thought to the back recesses of his mind, he concentrated on her. Suckling, soothing with his tongue, he worried that hardened bud, teasing her to the best of his ability. When she shook from his attentions, he continued with more of the same, for he wanted her close to that edge, begging him to finish her.

"Thomas…" Her fingers curled into his shirt, and she clutched at his arm with one hand.

"Hmm?" When he rolled those sensitive peaks, starting at the root and moving upward with varying degrees of pressure, she cried out with apparent joy and attempted to press her body closer to his.

"You don't play fair," she finally managed to pant in between nips and nibbles the side of his neck.

"I'm willing to say when it comes to carnal endeavors, nothing is quite fair. It's merely a matter of who can survive the longest before breaking." And he couldn't wait to see what she looked like when she went over that edge.

"Braggart. Now you sound like the rogue you apparently used to be." There was nothing proper about her as she shoved a hand between their bodies while he continued torturing her breasts. Seconds later, Genevieve cupped his burgeoning erection through the fabric of his breeches. A groan left his throat and she smiled; it didn't bode well for him. "Did you think you would leave this stream unscathed?"

"I don't know what I expected, to be honest." There was something about this woman that kept him on the edge of wonder and terror, as if he were holding his breath, waiting to see what she would do next.

"Poor man. You need far more stimulation in your life." She stroked him through his breeches. "I wonder if you'll taste sweet or salty." And the fool woman licked her lips as she met his gaze. "Do you dare me to find out?"

"Bloody hell." His guttural utterance sounded overly loud in the silence of their surroundings. Would she be the death of him? Well, he wouldn't leave her to make the first volley in this war. Quicky, he yanked her hand from his person, and nearly sagged with temporary relief. "I believe we are well past that line now."

"I did warn you I'm not entirely the lady society would like for me to be."

That was one of the reasons she was so fascinating. He didn't quite trust the grin that curved her kiss-swollen lips. With a half growl half curse, he put a hand to the small of her back, tugging her close once more. "In this moment, that is entirely fine, for I am not the gentleman my position demands."

They would have this one-off time together, and that would be that, and if they were fortunate, no one in the village would be the wiser.

"I like the sound of that." Her voice was a purr which had his shaft tightening ever more painfully.

"Then let us move onto other, more exquisite things." As Thomas put her into a loose embrace, he knocked her feet from beneath her. When she tumbled to the soft, night-cooled grass, he followed her down onto the earth.

"There is nothing more seductive than a woman in this sort of undress with passion staining her cheeks." Though it was difficult to see in the moonlight.

Her eyes glinted with appreciation. "I'd be willing to remove the shift if you want." Clearly, she was no shrinking violet. She squirmed beneath him, and seconds later, her gloriously bared legs framed his body. "What now? Surely this isn't the extent of your expertise?"

"Hardly. When did you become such a minx?" A groan left his throat, for he couldn't delay touching her any longer. Thomas kneeled between her bent knees.

"I've always been a bit wild since my Come Out year."

He snorted. "If I were a betting man, I'd wager it was since you turned sixteen." As he spoke, Thomas encouraged the hem of her shift up her legs to her waist. Then he gently parted her thighs, spread her open to his gaze. "And also, if I were to bet, I'd say no one has ever done this to you."

"You would win, for outside of kissing and a few touches or caresses, no man has ever touched me as intimately as you are about to." The breathlessness in her voice made the moment even more poignant. "I, um, haven't been that daring, it seems."

"Then I'm honored." In this, he would be her first, her teacher, the man she would always compare the act against, and it was quite heady stuff. And if he didn't get on with it, he'd spend in his breeches. Leaning down, fairly laying on the grass, he buried his face between her thighs and then licked her slick flesh.

"Oh, oh dear…" Her hips bucked, which only put her more firmly in his hold.

He answered with action over words. It took little time to encourage her tiny pearl out of hiding, and with each probe and flick of his tongue, it swelled while Genevieve's breath grew erratic.

"I…" She fisted a hand into the long grass and with the other, shoved her fingers into his hair.

Thomas moved over her button, worried the nub, suckled at it, gave it tiny nibbles until she squirmed from his ministrations, alternately trying to shove him away and hold him closer.

"If you want to fly, you must climb that mountain," he whispered against her flesh then tried to soothe the bud with his tongue.

"Oh!" Genevieve panted. She thrashed her head from side to side. "I feel like drowning, yet falling all at once." When she moved a hand to the back of his head, holding him to where she apparently needed him to be, he glanced upward to meet her gaze, and she nodded. "I need more."

"No doubt you do." But he did as she bid, and what was more, she was sweet on his tongue like clean water or the nectar from clover flowers. Then he added fingers to his play, sliding them in and out of her quivering passage. "If it grows too much, cry mercy."

"And give you the satisfaction of winning?" She snorted as her hips undulated. "Hardly." Then her body stiffened. "Thomas!" With a surprised sort of scream, she shattered. Her body shook; her inner muscles contracted around his fingers, and the dear woman pointed her toes as she rode that wave. "Dear heavens." She collapsed onto the ground and stared at him. "Who would have ever thought a vicar could know how to do… that ?"

"Ha!" He chuckled, for how could he not? "I did tell you I am a former rogue."

"What a shame you aren't any longer," she managed to whisper.

A wave of satisfaction rose in his chest. "Then let us say that I am a rogue until we are both sated, sweaty, and exhausted, hmm?" Perhaps that slide down the hill into sin wouldn't be as bad as he thought.

"That sounds all too lovely, but now it is my turn to torture you." Genevieve righted herself and before he could move, she pounced on him. The force of her attack tipped him onto his back. They sprawled on the grass in a tangle of limbs. "Tit for tat, wouldn't you say? Perhaps when you go over the edge, it will be much like visiting heaven, and then you can thank me." And there was another grin that tightened his chest.

"I admire your tenacity after you must have already survived a strong release."

"Do shut up, Mr. Alderman. Too much talking." And then she proceeded to kiss him with stark abandon and a wild determination that held him captive.

Damn, damn, damn!

The woman drank from him as if he held the last drop of water on Earth; she devoured him as if she had no decorum at all. It had no doubt fled the moment he put his fingers on her. When she dragged her lips down the strong column of his throat, he shivered then contented himself with once more bedeviling her nipples.

"Turn over." Two taps of a curled fist to his shoulder managed to make the words sink into his lust-clouded brain.

"What?"

"Flip over onto your back."

"Why?"

"You shall discover that all the quicker once you do as I say." When he did as she asked, she made a sound much like the purr of a cat. "Excellent. You are quite teachable. I appreciate that." Then, with mischief shining in her eyes, made luminous in the moonlight, Genevieve slid down his body. Watching him in the shifting shadows, she swiftly undid the buttons on his frontfalls. "Let's see what I have to work with, and with any luck, I shall be quite surprised." As his hardened length tumbled into her palm, she gave a pleased chuckle that went straight through his stones and caused his shaft to twitch. "A well-hung vicar. Now that is heaven sent."

Heat infiltrated his neck and cheeks, coursed through his chest. "Gammon. I'm adequate." And he couldn't help teasing her further as a way to ignore the touch of her fingers on his manhood. "It's enough for you to work with, hmm?"

"Very." When she ran the tip of her tongue along her lower lip, he shivered. "Let us see how much you can take before you'll break." Up and down, she drew her hand along his shaft with her curled fingers about his girth. "So thick. So hard." As she spoke, she shook her head and held his gaze. "Lovely."

"Perhaps you should leave off." Strain graveled his voice. With every stroke of her hand, each brush of her fingers, he shuddered and widened his legs in anticipation.

"That would be the proper thing to do, but where is the fun in that?" With a slow grin, Genevieve leaned over him and just as slowly, she licked the tip of his shaft.

"Gigi!" His hiss was swallowed by the sounds of the night.

"Hush. I have long wanted to do this to a man, and knowing I will to a man of your caliber is all the more impressive." Kneeling, she continued to work him over with her hand while taking his length into the warm cavern of her mouth.

As her lips closed around his member, he nearly lost his mind. "Damn." One of his hands fisted into the grass. "You are going to kill me, Geneieve."

"We'll find out together." She hummed around him, and when she moved her hand down to cup his stones, his body twitched. "So sensitive," she murmured around his shaft, and the vibrations sent him into the next level of pleasure.

"Leave off," he warned for the night would be over far too early due to her innocent enthusiasm.

"No." Then she proceeded to apply various degrees of depth and suction to his erection, alternately squeezing his stones and returning to twist her fingers around his shaft as she worked to separate him from reality.

"Please." At this rate, he wouldn't survive. A moan left his throat as she licked the underside of his member, and when she slipped a hand beneath him to squeeze one of his buttocks, stark need shuddered down his spine to lodge in his stones. "Dear God, Genevieve…" There was naught to do except bury his fingers into her long, slightly damp hair and thrust upward into her mouth. "Damn, but that feels far too good," he said mostly to himself, and it had been a long time indeed since he'd last had a woman pleasure him in this way.

Making sounds of happiness, she continued to work him over, and he bucked his hips, caught in a cycle of bliss and need. Briefly, she pulled off his shaft and grinned, her eyes sparkling in the moonlight. "Give in. Spend for me. Let me taste your essence."

"I… I don't…"

"Then couple with me. Bed me. I will gladly give you my innocence in exchange for this experience with you." Again, she took him into her mouth, bobbing up and down on him, faster and faster.

"Oh, God!" Desperation propelled the soft cry, and in that, he knew a truth that he refused to back down on. By her own admission, she was still an innocent, and by rights he couldn't take that from her even if she was adamant that she gave it over. It was a gift that should be saved for the man who would eventually be her husband… and he wasn't that man. She wasn't the type of woman he could have by his side for the rest of his life. With his attention on his thoughts, he relaxed his hold on control.

He broke, shattered, was hurtled over the edge of sanity into bliss, and still, Genevieve continued to work over his shaft as he thrust more and more erratically. The stronger his length pulsed, the higher he flew into the heavens, and damn it all, if she didn't swallow every bit of what he gave her.

Finally, it was over, and though his breathing was still labored, Thomas sank into the grass with a pleasant lethargy weighting his limbs. He laid an arm over his eyes to temporarily block her from his sight.

What have I done?

He should have left her untouched. Instead, he'd violated her when he'd had no right and let her do the same to him. She was an untried miss, an innocent in such things. Had this ruined her? Not in the ways that mattered, but he should have put a stop to it before it had ever started.

And what sort of gentleman turned vicar did that? Even for the release?

"God forgive me," he whispered as he struggled into a seated position. When Genevieve stared at him with awe and further wickedness in her eyes, unease and need twisted down his spine. Hot guilt poured through his chest as he sprang to his feet, doing up the buttons of his frontfalls as he went. "This cannot happen again. Not any of it."

She pouted, and that gesture nearly became his downfall. "But, nothing happened, not truly." Once she'd gained her feet, she propped her hands on her hips, and he tried not to stare at her hardened nipples through the shift's fabric but failed. "I'm still an innocent, and that wasn't my intention this night."

There was only so much a man could withstand, and she was trouble. Sin and scandal, surely. "Perhaps, but in the eyes of society, I've compromised you."

"Or rather, I was the one who compromised you." With the shake of her head, she marched back to where she'd left her clothing. "So you won't finish me then?"

As if he could. For all her daring, she apparently didn't know how that portion of a man's anatomy worked. "I will not, and as I said, anything like this between us is folly. We must not come together again."

For long moments, she stared at him. Then she blew out a breath and snatched her petticoat from the grass. "You are a coward, Mr. Alderman."

"Be that as it may, you know it's true. I am a vicar, and you are governess to my nieces." He shoved a hand through his hair. "That is all there can ever be."

"Why?" With jerky movements, she drew the garment on and then secured the ties about her waist.

"Because you said you would only marry a titled, rich man."

"Are you saying you would marry me if I didn't want that?"

"No. I need a helpmeet beyond reproach."

"Ah, and I exude sin."

How to answer that? Finally, he shrugged. "Besides, I am not a rogue any longer. It will already be far too tempting having you beneath my roof." Bloody hell, he shouldn't have told her that, for she was far too crafty not to use that against him.

"There is nothing in the Bible that says a man of the cloth cannot give a servant a quick toss every now and again."

Such skewed views. He shook his head. "You are far more than a servant, and worth much more than a hurried tryst."

"It doesn't need to be rushed," she said with a slow grin that once more lit fires into his blood.

Yes, most certainly this woman would kill him, and it would be a very satisfying way to expire. Thomas shook his head. "You should go back to the vicarage. I need to beg God's forgiveness."

Her grin faded to a frown. "As if I'm evil or bad, something you regret touching." Her swallow was audible. "As if being with me will somehow send you to hell?" When he remained silent while confusion wrapped around him, she tamped on what sounded suspiciously like a sob. "Fine. Stay out here, but I hope when you're imploring the heavens, you find some real truths as well instead of hiding behind a book that is open to many and varied interpretations."

In obvious outrage, she gathered her belongings, shoved them into the willow basket, and then she marched away, apparently not caring that she was still scandalously clothed.

"I am headed to hell for certain." Yet he couldn't discount the new way of looking at things that had infiltrated his ponderings thanks to Genevieve. What am I going to do? Then he fell to his knees and bowed his head. "Heavenly Father…"