Never Seduce A Scoundrel by Heather Grothaus Read Free Book Online

from sleep, caused a funny hitch in her breathing.
    “You,” he said.
    “Beg your pardon?” Cecily said, troubled to hear the words come out of her mouth in a whisper.
    “You,” he repeated, his lips pausing, widening slightly, as if struggling to form the words. “You have a mole. On your left side. Just below your collarbone.” His words were quiet, easy.
    Matter-of-fact.
    All the air streamed out of her lungs in a wheeze and she couldn’t help but glance down at her chest dumbly.
    “You must have me confused with someone else,” she said, and then thrust the cup at him. “Here is your tea. I’m late for chapel and Vicar John is waiting.”
    He blew on the surface of the tea, then took a sip, his eyes never leaving hers over the rim of the cup. “If you think the compliment I paid you was inappropriate, linger a bit. I’ve been thinking a lot. All night, actually. I should like to share with you my theories on how the back of your cloak was ruined, as well as how my knees were turned into ground meat.”
    Cecily felt her body go ice-cold. “I’m certain it would be a very interesting conversation, Lord Bellecote, but as I’ve only just relayed to you, I have other responsibilities to attend to this morn. Perhaps I should have Cook reduce the amount of willow in your tea—it seems to be having a strange effect on your logic and sense of propriety. Good day.” She turned calmly and began to walk to the door.
    “I was drunk, Cecily. Not unconscious,” he called out from behind her. “You may as well confess.”
    She paused, her hand on the door latch. So much for carrying on. “I fully intend to,” she said. And then she opened the door and slipped out.
    She did not pause in the corridor—her whirling thoughts would not allow it. Instead she escaped the castle and walked straight toward the chapel.
    John Grey’s blond hair was like a golden beacon in the morning sun. A halo. A haven. He was not Father Perry, and yet he was not Oliver Bellecote, either. She had to restrain herself from running to him.
    He smiled at her and raised a hand in greeting, speaking before she had fully reached him.
    “Good morning to you, my lady,” he said, and Cecily did not miss the way his eyes swept her from crown to slippers. He took her hand when she came to a breathless stop before him, squeezed her fingers lightly and then released them. “Father Perry commented on your absence. I do hope it was not on my account.”
    “No, Vicar. No, of course not.” She felt on the verge of hysterical tears, but she tried to smile at him nonetheless. “My charge kept me occupied this morning, more so than I had planned.”
    A look of concern shadowed his face. “Nothing too dire, I hope.”
    “No,” Cecily said quickly, and then drew up short. “Actually, yes. Yes, it is quite dire, I’m afraid.”
    “My lady?”
    Cecily bit her lip briefly. “Vicar, I need your help.”
    “Anything, of course. Only put name to it and I shall see it accomplished.”
    “My charge did not keep me from chapel this morn,” she admitted.
    John Grey’s noble brow dropped. “You were deliberately absent?”
    “Yes. I—” She stopped and looked around the bailey. “Would you mind if we went somewhere to speak privately?”
    “Well, I was going to suggest that we have a ride about the countryside today since the weather is so unusually fair.”
    “Perfect,” Cecily said, noting wryly her use of Oliver Bellecote’s favorite word. “I mean, yes, that would be fine.”
    “Shall I have our mounts readied and then wait for you in the stables while you change?”
    “Let’s both go now. I fear that if I put it off any longer, I will lose my courage.”
     
     
    Although Cecily had been barely able to contain the miserable tangle of words trying to claw their way up her throat upon meeting John Grey near the chapel, once they were astride and through the gates, the knot had frozen into a lump of ice that was loath to be