He watched her face closely, wondering if she’d recognize him.

  She did if her sudden gasp and the widening of those incredible eyes were anything to go by.

  Gideon took his time raking his gaze over her. His memory hadn’t done her justice. The glorious curves that had imprinted themselves in his brain were covered today in a pretty blue dress that was somehow almost as tantalizing as the wet chemise given the way it skimmed her hips and hinted at her generous breasts.

  Her hair was covered in a fetching bonnet, but he glimpsed enough renegade tendrils to see that when it was dry it was the color of a light, golden caramel.

  Once again, his mouth dried as he took her in.

  For her own part, her eyes flickered with shock, then heat, then bizarrely something akin to disappointment before she smiled.

  “If it isn’t my mystery man,” she quipped saucily and despite his dark, tumultuous thoughts of only moments ago, Gideon felt his own lips pulling up in an answering grin.

  “If it isn’t my lady of the lake,” he nodded.

  “Ahem.”

  The less-than-subtle cough alerted Gideon to Mrs. Fetherson’s now-disapproving presence.

  “Ah, Mrs. Fetherson, perhaps some tea for our guest?”

  The old lady ran a squinting glare between Gideon and Miss Templeworth before leaving to do his bidding.

  “So, you’re Reverend Bell’s nephew?” she asked, and it might have been Gideon’s imagination, but he thought she sounded disappointed by the fact.

  “I am,” he said. “Gideon Bell. And you are Miss Templeworth. My guess is you are Hope.”

  Her grin was pure devilment.

  “An excellent guess. Are you also some sort of magician?”

  He snorted softly. “I’m afraid it’s nothing so interesting. I just have excellent hearing.”

  At her frown of confusion, he elaborated. “Your sisters and you seem to be the talk of the village on a regular basis.”

  He thought she might blush, but she merely shrugged, magnificently unperturbed.

  “Well, it’s a small town. They don’t have much to talk about.”

  Gideon remembered his manners and offered her a seat, waiting until she perched herself on the chaise before taking a seat on the armchair opposite her.

  “How did you know which one I was?” she asked curiously.

  “Ah, that was easy. Every male within a five-mile radius sounded utterly besotted. Who else could it be?”

  Instead of simpering or giggling behind her hand, she rolled her eyes.

  “Lord, don’t tell me you’ve managed to charm poor, unsuspecting ladies with that tosh!”

  Gideon barked out a laugh, rusty from lack of use over the last few months.

  “I can’t say I’ve ever had to work that hard to charm a lady, Miss Templeworth. But I assure you, ’tis true. You are quite the most beautiful woman I’ve ever encountered, dry or wet.”

  Gideon wondered how innocent the woman standing in front of him was. He watched carefully to see if she’d pick up any innuendo in his comment, but her face remained clear of any sexual knowledge.

  So, all that sensuality was natural then, and not the product of experience? His stomach twisted with a sudden jolt of desire. He could only imagine what she’d blossom into when in the right hands.

  “Thank you,” she answered wryly, not seeming the slightest bit impressed or flattered. “But my sisters are just as pretty, I assure you.”

  “I doubt it,” he answered honestly. “But I look forward to meeting them.”

  “Why? So you can try that stuff on them? I can assure you, Cheska wouldn’t be remotely impressed. She is something of a detractor when it comes to men and marriage. And Sophia is only sixteen.” Her eyes flashed, and he didn’t know if she was jealous or simply overprotective of her siblings. “And Elodie is married,” she continued. “She is Viscountess Brentford.”

  Gideon was indeed familiar with Brentford. They belonged to the same clubs and had attended Oxford within a couple of years of each other. He’d even met the viscountess, and now that Hope mentioned it, he could see a familial similarity. Though the viscountess was a brunette, her eyes were similar to Hope’s.

  However, he still maintained that while the viscountess was beautiful, and Christian was damned lucky in his choice of wife, the woman in front of him was superior in beauty and had wit and vivacity that only added to her attraction.

  Best to keep that to himself, though. Since she seemed to think his genuine flattery was poppycock.

  “I am familiar with the viscount and your sister,” he answered evenly, and she blinked in surprise. “And I can assure you, I will not make any attempt to be charming to your sisters.”

  “I didn’t say you couldn’t try, just that it wouldn’t work.” She grinned, dimples appearing on either side of that delectable mouth.

  “So, do you often visit gentlemen alone?” he asked with a raised brow.

  She narrowed her eyes at his false innocence.

  “I do not,” she sniffed. “It just so happens that I very properly brought a maid currently ensconced with Mrs. Bell’s cook, who is her aunt. Besides, how much harm could there be in visiting a vicar?”

  She said the word with a vague disgust.

  “I brought this,” she announced suddenly, and he noticed a basket that he hadn’t even glanced at before. “To welcome you to Halton, apparently.”

  “To welcome me?” he frowned as he accepted the basket. “My thanks to you.”

  “It’s not from me,” she answered. “I mean, it’s not just from me. My mother wanted me to welcome you officially. From our family. Officially.”

  He couldn’t help but grin at her frown, a confusion that clearly matched his own evident on her face. Then she smiled, and he literally caught his breath at the beauty of the expression. He didn’t think that happened outside of books and plays.

  “Truth be told, I’m not very good at all this. Elodie was the proper, ladylike one. She would have known exactly what to say. How to act. I’m unfortunately rather lacking in that area.”

  Gideon couldn’t stop himself from looking her over once more.

  “I can’t imagine you lacking in any area, Miss Templeworth,” he said, his voice gravelly. “And ladylike behavior is highly overrated.”

  He was being far more risqué than he would usually be with a debutante, but there was something about Hope Templeworth that awoke his less-than-gallant side.

  He wondered if he would offend her by his forwardness, but she didn’t seem fazed in the slightest.

  “On that, we can agree,” she said drolly.

  Just then, a maid entered with a tea tray and placed it on the table between them.

  “Shall I pour?” Miss Templeworth asked, suddenly all demure politeness.

  “Of course,” he answered smoothly while trying to figure her out.

  For someone who claimed to be lacking when it came to polite society, she certainly knew what she was doing. She poured like a perfectly bred young lady and only that constant glint of mischief belied her true personality.

  “I think your mother taught you rather well, Miss Templeworth.” He nodded his thanks as he took the delicate cup from her. “That was very well done.”

  Truth be told, he hated tea. Couldn’t stand the stuff. But it was one of those ridiculous quirks of polite society to drink it, so he did.

  “I’m not without some skills,” she answered innocently, but his body raged as though she’d propositioned him.

  What the hell was this? This incendiary desire? He hadn’t felt even a flicker of interest in the female sex since Elaine and her betrayal. So why was he sitting here remembering Hope Templeworth practically naked, and wishing quite fervently to know if she tasted as good as she looked?

  Chapter Five

  Hope tried to ignore the flicker of awareness that crackled around her as she sat across from Mr. Bell. Just as she tried to ignore the disappointment she’d been feeling since she’d set eyes on him in the rectory.

  The new vicar was her mystery man from the lake. How dreadfully boring.

  Even now as she sat here taking tea with him, she couldn’t quite believe that this darkly handsome man could be a vicar. He was too masculine, too dark, too sinful.

  The way his lips quirked while he said things that no vicar she’d known would ever say. The way his dark eyes devoured her. The way he watched her as she imagined a panther would watch his prey…

  How could a man like this be a man of the cloth? How did he not scare the wits out of his pious parishioners?

  There was a power about him, innate masculinity that was frankly wasted on a life of religious devotion. He exuded power and something else, something primal and exciting and wicked that she’d never encountered before. All of that just to give sermons on Sundays? It was a shame. Such a shame!

  Her flirtatious comment about her skills probably fell on deaf ears, too. The innuendo was lost on a man who no doubt only saw the good and proper in everyone and everything. Yet, he hadn’t seemed all that good and proper himself the other day by the lake. Just remembering the heat in his dark gaze set Hope to blush.

  “So…” A change in subject seemed prudent. “Are you looking forward to meeting more of your new community at the party?”

  Reverend and Mrs. Bell were hosting a dinner party to welcome their nephew to Halton next Thursday. Hope had told Mama that she’d rather stick pins in her eyes than attend. Now, she wasn’t so sure. Even though Mr. Bell was a vicar, she was still more fascinated by him than anyone she’d ever met.

  From his grimace, he was as happy about the dinner party as she was, though he kept his face smooth as he nodded.

  “Of course,” he answered evenly. “I’m looking forward to seeing if you dance as well as you swim.”

  Hope felt her cheeks heat but prayed it didn’t show too much on her face. The last thing she needed was for a bloody vicar to think she was attracted to him. Even if she was.

  She didn’t know quite what to say in answer. If he weren’t a reverend, she would have happily given him a flirtatious answer. But really, of all the ladies in the world, the last one to have any sort of relationship with a man of the cloth was Hope Templeworth!

  “My brother will be excited to meet everyone,” he said smoothly when she didn’t answer. He was frowning slightly as though he was confused by her silence, and she couldn’t blame him, really. But it was long past time that she got their acquaintance back on an even, respectable keel.

  “Your brother? He is coming to stay, too?”

  Mr. Bell looked at her like she’d grown another head.

  “Er, yes,” he answered. “It would be rather imprudent for him to stay away would it not?”

  Now it was Hope’s turn to stare at him. Why would it be prudent for his brother to be here? And why was he looking at her like she was a complete dolt? She was growing more confused by the second.

  “I’m sure it will be a great comfort to you to have your brother’s support. Though the rumor was that he was abroad.”

  “Abroad? His support? For what?”

  Hope could only stare at him in consternation. Was the man addled in the head? It certainly seemed so. She was about to answer when the drawing room door opened with a bang and Reverend and Mrs. Bell swept into the room.

  “Miss Templeworth. How nice to see you,” Mrs. Bell said weakly, and Hope knew that it very much wasn’t nice for the prudish Mrs. Bell to see her.

  If Elodie had been here, Mrs. Bell would have been delighted to see her sister. Would have pressed her to accept a dinner invitation and chatted for hours about things almost guaranteed to put anyone but Elodie to sleep.

  “A pleasure to see you, too, Mrs. Bell,” Hope lied smoothly, using the arrival of the older couple to jump to her feet. “But I’m afraid I’ve stayed as long as I can. Welcome once again, Mr. Bell, to Halton. I shall see you all at the party. Good day.”

  Without giving any of them a chance to respond, she practically ran from the room.

  *

  “It’s funny when you think about it.”

  “It is decidedly not funny.”

  “It’s sort of funny.”

  Hope glared at her two sisters, wishing she’d never run home and blurted out the whole sorry tale to them. They were taking far too much delight in the fact that the mysterious gentleman Hope had sighed over was, in fact, a do-gooder of the highest order.

  Against her better judgment, she’d been fantasizing about seeing him again. In the woods perhaps. They’d talk, they’d flirt. He’d gaze at her, barely concealed passion in those black-as-sin eyes…

  Just like in the novels she gobbled up.

  None of those novels, not one of them, had had the dashing, brooding hero be a vicar.

  “Perhaps he’s a sort of rogue vicar,” Cheska offered unhelpfully. “I can’t imagine Reverend Bell flirting with a practically naked woman in a lake. Can you?”

  Hope shuddered at the very idea.

  “That is disgusting,” Sophia spat. Which it was. “Besides, even if he was a rogue vicar, he’d still bore Hope to tears. She’s always going on about how she can’t wait to get out of Halton.”

  That was true. She was always going on about it because she was desperate to get out of this small town. Not desperate enough to have tied herself to one of those inane dandies from Town of course. But still. Quite desperate.

  “Well, perhaps this brother of his will be as dashing and infinitely more exciting,” Cheska said by way of cheering her up, Hope supposed. She merely smiled weakly in response, not wanting to admit the truth to her sisters. That she couldn’t imagine any other man having that strange, exciting effect on her. “And he’s an earl. You’d get an entire year out of Mama not haranguing you if you bagged an earl, Hope.”

  All the Templeworths considered Hope to be their romantic. But to admit that one meeting with a stranger had convinced her she’d never again be attracted to another man? They would mock her mercilessly. Probably cart her off to Bedlam for good measure. And she would deserve it.

  “Well, it’s of little consequence in any case,” she said stoutly. “I have no intentions of getting involved with a vicar or his brother. Now, Sophia. Have you decided what gown you will wear to the party?”

  Just as she’d intended, Hope’s question immediately brought about a cessation to the talk of Mr. Bell and her very inconvenient attraction to him.

  “Ugh, no I have not,” Sophia scowled, her eyes narrowing. “Because as I’ve told you all, I’m not going.”

  Hope’s sigh matched Francesca’s.

  “You have to go, Sophia,” Hope said. “You know this. You’re lucky that you got to sixteen without being dragged into this sort of stuff, to be honest. I was only fifteen when I was forced to endure these things.”

  “Yes, well that’s your own fault for looking like a China doll,” Sophia bit out as though Hope had any control over how she looked. “I look like I belong in the stables. Which I do.”

  Francesca rolled her eyes.

  “All you’re being asked to do is stop dressing like a man for one evening and endure some polite company. Even you can manage that, Sophia.”

  “I don’t want to manage it.”

  Lord! They were all stubborn, but Sophia definitely got the lion’s share of that particular trait.

  “Hopefully Elle and Christian will arrive early., Mama won’t care a whit if I attend or not once her golden viscountess is in town,” Sophia said hopefully.

  That was true, actually. Hope might even get out of it if Elle and Christian arrived.

  “She’ll probably still make you go. The reverend is a single man, after all. I don’t think even Christian’s being a peer can prevent Mama’s scheming.”

  “I would rather die,” Sophia, not usually prone to dramatics, shuddered.

  “She’s too young for him,” Hope snapped at the same time.

  Francesca turned her attention to Hope. “Is she? I doubt Mama would give two hoots about his age. How old is he, anyway?”

  Hope shrugged, feigning a nonchalance she was far from feeling. The very idea of her mystery man and Sophia…

  “How should I know? We’re hardly friends.”

  “But you know enough to know he’s too old for Sophia?”

  “Sophia isn’t interested,” the brunette interjected. “Bloody hell. If a viscount for a son-in-law isn’t enough for Mama, we’re all doomed.”

  If Elodie were here, she would likely scold Sophia for her language. But Hope couldn’t be bothered, and Cheska was rather a big fan of swearing.

  “I don’t know,” Cheska said casually to Sophia, though that piercing gaze stayed on Hope’s face, watching carefully. “If you married the handsome vicar, you could stay in Halton with your horses. You wouldn’t even have to suffer through a Season.”

  “Oh, now that’s something to consider,” Sophia looked up from where she’d been brushing muck from her breeches.

  “She’s not marrying the vicar,” Hope snapped.

  Then without another word, she marched from the room.

  But not before she caught the smugly knowing smirk on Francesca’s face.

  Chapter Six

  “This place and the people in it are mad, Kit. Stark, raving mad. You’re quite sure this is where you want to hang your hat for the rest of your days?”

  Kit laughed at his older brother’s harsh assessment of Halton and its residents.

  He’d arrived late last night, and the brothers hadn’t had much time to talk between helping their aunt and uncle prepare for their retirement, and Aunt Bell’s fussing over Kit the same way she’d fussed over Gideon when he’d first arrived.

  “I think I could be quite happy here,” Kit said before picking up his tankard of ale and draining it. “I don’t seek constant adventure and excitement the way you do, Gideon. I never have.”

  That was certainly true, Gideon mused as he raised a hand to signal for another two pints.

  And for all its faults, Halton did have good ale.

  It also had a great view of the bustling village square from the table he’d steered Kit toward. Not to look out for a particular blonde with deep brown eyes, he assured himself fiercely, but because Kit would want to see village life. To get a feel for this place and his flock.

 

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