The Merchant and the Clergyman (26 page)

James couldn’t help thinking about that visit
and all the noise they had made, but he tried to sound unconcerned
as he said, “You’ll gain the reputation as an eccentric.”

“Yes, but the servants and the village will
soon grow used to my absurd habits such as my desire to cook for
myself.” He spoke with such confidence, James supposed he would be
right. When a man like Declan decided the world ran in such and
such a manner, quite often he made it happen just so. The very
wealthy could get away with things that poorer men could not.

Declan peered into a pot. “The sauce should
simmer a little longer, I think.” He spoke over his shoulder as he
stirred. “The fantastically expensive chef is from Italy. He’s
perhaps even more passionate about cooking than I am. I am taken
aback by how much he can speak of that topic—almost as much as he
tells me of his first love, a boy who left him for a sea cook.”

“Oh, so he’s…” James’s face grew red. He
pointed back and forth between them, wishing he could be less
tongue-tied when it came to such matters.

Declan gave him a fond, exasperated look.
“Yes. A sodomite and a bloody marvelous chef who’s willing to teach
me for a brief time.” He put the spoon in a pan and wiped his hands
on a bit of toweling. “Let me show you around.”

Declan demonstrated the features of the
shining cast-iron-and-enamel stove and then dragged James off to
explore the rest of the nearly unfurnished house.

Despite the lack of furniture, carpets, and
window coverings, the house felt as solid as its owner. A permanent
sort of place to settle, nothing flimsy. James touched a carved
bannister at the foot of the stairs. “You’re truly here. You’ll
live in Bishop’s Hartfield. I’m so…” He shook his head.

“What are you?” Declan leaned against a wall
and folded his arms, amusement filling his kind eyes.

“I’m…I’m overwhelmed with happiness.” He
cleared his throat and wished himself less prone to tears of joy.
“You’re here. To stay.”

“Of course. Didn’t I tell you as much in
Italy?”

“Yes,” James admitted, “The last time I saw
your uncle, he told me that you and he are on the best of terms and
that your stay here was only a temporary visit until the mill
turned a profit.”

“All lies,” Declan said dryly.

James nodded. “Yes. So I supposed, but still.
I love the idea of you in my life so much, it was easy to be
afraid.”

“Gudgeon.” Declan’s smile shone on James,
intimate and warm. “I had to come back. I am determined to buy you
a horse and want to pick it out myself.”

“I don’t need a horse. I just need you.”

“You would ride me?”

The images that came to his mind were so
outrageous, James had to take a deep breath before he could
continue. “If you like. I wonder how you’d take jumps?”

Declan grinned. “I am uncertain what that
could possibly translate to in the sort of sports you and I enjoy,
but whatever it is, I’m game to try if you are.”

James loved it when Declan gave him warm
smiles and provocative suggestions. And soon James would make sure
the smile grew even hotter. He fingered the length of limp leather
in his trouser pocket, and hoped he’d be brave enough to present it
as a gift for Declan to use to tie him. Where was the bedroom?
Could he bring himself to ask? It had been so long…

The playful moment passed and Declan grew
serious again. “What else did my uncle say?” he asked.

James let go of the leather to concentrate on
their conversation. “He said that Kip has settled down nicely. I
suspect that’s a lie as well.”

“Perhaps not entirely. My mother’s last
letter said that when Kip came to visit Mary, he actually paid
attention to his mother. He was quite patient with her wandering
thoughts. He walked around the farm with my uncle—Patrick’s father.
My mum said the two of them talking about horse farming and sheep
and other deadly dull topics was enough to drive her mad. He barely
ever sighed about his lack of funds at her and his mother. And he
only talked about missing London once every couple of days.”

James couldn’t help laughing at Declan’s wry
expression and at the thought of Kip turning into a gentleman
farmer. And also he laughed for pure joy. He hadn’t imagined he
could ever feel such simple selfish happiness in his life.

“How is your mother?” James asked. “I enjoyed
her so much when I met her, though I don’t know if she approved of
me. She is so very Catholic, it makes me wonder how her own sister
chose to marry a Protestant.”

“Mother adored you, even if you
do
worship the false God invented by the English.”

“There is only the one God,” James said.

Declan waved a hand in mock horror. “All
right, my dear curate. Save it for Sunday.”

“He is love,” James said and walked to
Declan, who opened his arms and welcomed him home.

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.
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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

Other Titles by Bonnie Dee & Sumer Devon

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

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

If you enjoyed The Merchant and
the Clergyman, you may also like Mending Him.

Robbie Grayson has always felt like a bit of
an outsider in the Chester family, though he’s related by blood. An
orphan taken in at a young age, he is further set apart by a limp
inflicted by a childhood illness.

Nevertheless, he’s content enough with his
quiet country life—until a mercurial wastrel named Charles
Worthington explodes into it. And Robbie is assigned to play
nursemaid to an invalid with an attitude.

Injured in a carriage accident, Charles
arrives at the Chester estate drunk as a lord and with empty
pockets. Despair consumes him as his broken body slowly heals, but
the kindness of quiet, thoughtful Robbie saves him from drowning in
self-pity.

Over chess matches and conversation, these
polar opposites challenge each other to break out of old patterns,
until desire burns through the thin veneer of pure friendship. Yet
their passion could destroy the family bonds they value so highly.
Especially when someone catches wind of their relationship—and
threatens blackmail.

Excerpt:

Robbie Grayson could have been scornful or
appalled at his drunkennness or simply left him to the servants,
but he had come in and taken charge and treated Charles with simple
friendliness.

Charles glanced over at him. Robbie stood in
only his shirtsleeves and some poorly tailored trousers. He’d
hooked his thumbs in the braces and leaned a hip against a low
bookshelf, the picture of a gentleman at leisure.

“Let me know if you require my aid,” he said
when their eyes met. He looked away; Charles didn’t. Enough alcohol
still swirled through his system that he allowed himself a thorough
perusal.

Grayson’s shoulders weren’t broad, but he
was pleasingly proportioned, and the lines of muscle in his
forearms demonstrated hidden strength, Charles fancied. The dark
hair on Robbie’s arms showed him to be an adult male, not the youth
he seemed at first.

Grayson straightened and shuffled near,
reaching down to the more-or-less clean, damp spot on the carpet.
He grimaced.

“That shoulder is causing you pain.” Charles
was not used to feeling shame, and he wasn’t relishing the weight
of it as he recalled how the man’s shoulder had been hurt from
Charles toppling onto him like some great oaf.

“It’s much better.” Grayson straightened. “I
apologize for not being properly dressed. I was getting ready for
bed when I decided someone ought to check on you. I believe I might
have heard a thump?”

He’d been getting ready for bed? Charles
noticed now the slits of light between the heavy library curtains
had vanished. Now the only sources of light were two lamps on the
desk that had been shoved into a corner to make room for the
cot.

Had Grayson lit them?

Charles had lost hours, and dinnertime as
well, which was a pity because his now-empty stomach had begun to
grumble.

He awkwardly folded the waistcoat, set it on
the floor next to him and began unbuttoning his shirt.

Robbie straightened and looked away. “I’d
offer to help, but I think I’d be more likely to get in your
way.”

Charles would love to drawl something about
how he wouldn’t mind at all if his dear new friend Robbie got in
his way. But, of course, he would not. Although he swore he felt a
glimmer of…something simmering in the air between them, it was more
likely his hopeful sot’s imagination. He would never risk trying to
seduce the one man who’d treated him kindly and possibly end up
driving him off.

Of course, that driver, Forrester had also
been quite kind, sharing the last of his whisky. Charles pulled off
his shirt, considering that one change in his new existence that
seemed rather freeing. He wasn’t used to thinking of servants as
any sort of companion. In the past, he wouldn’t even talk about
personal things with someone like McNair. He’d certainly never
noticed the in-between people, men like Robbie, who was not a
servant yet appeared to act like a butler or major domo in this
house.

“I’m eternally grateful to you, Mr.
Grayson.” Charles met the translucent gray-green eyes, which seemed
to grow sharper even as they examined him.

“You’re feeling more the thing? Less
dreadful?” Robbie said.

Charles nodded. If he could imagine touching
that caring face, drawing it close for a kiss or two, he definitely
felt more like himself. “I’ve rallied, thanks to you.”

Robbie laid his hands on Charles’s shoulders
and carefully squatted. Those hands were large for his slender size
and obviously strong. Charles examined them. Definitely bitten
nails. His gaze traveled again to the bit of hair that showed at
the top of Robbie’s unbuttoned shirt. Charles raised his eyes and
met the cool gaze. They remained locked together that way for a
powerful few moments. Suddenly, the slight Robbie seemed less
inconsequential. Charles raised his own hand, intending to cover
the warm, strong grip on his shoulder.

“I shall not tell my aunt and uncle about
this evening, but the servants know and will likely complain,”
Robbie whispered, which showed he believed servants to be
listening. “This family is not liberal in its views. There is
little tolerance for anything unconventional.” He paused, then
added, “Such as overindulgence in drink.”

Charles’s hand froze. He lowered it. There
was dark warning in those words. Not a threat, of course, but
something hard as steel. A message which curbed his budding desire
and let him know in unequivocal terms that there was no place for
it to take root and grow.

Charles swallowed his thousandth apology and
only said, “Ah.”

Robbie squeezed both shoulders once, fast,
then released his grip. “I needed to warn you.” He lurched
awkwardly to his feet. Charles reached out to steady him.

“Oh no, I’m quite used to my own
clumsiness.” The light, pleasant tone had returned to his voice.
“I’ll remain here and wait until I know you’ll be all right.”