Vicars Always Woo Wallflowers by Catherine Mayfair

Author:Catherine Mayfair
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Published: 2020-08-31T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Fifteen

Luke kicked a nearby stick out of his way with a growl. What had begun as a journey for redemption was quickly becoming a self-serving desire to ease his own lust. How would he ever be absolved of his sins if he continued to act sinfully?

He found Nora so beautiful and desirable, and all he wanted was to be close to her. Yet, what if her actions were not her own? He had met a woman overcome with such appreciation for saving her from a band of highwaymen that she invited him back to her home to feast on a meal fit for a king. When Luke refused to sneak away with her to her bedchambers, the young woman had thrown him out of her home and told him in no uncertain terms what a brute he was. He, the man who had saved her, was the brute! Would he never understand women?

It was nearly dark by the time he returned to the campsite, confident that he would set things straight. He had the responsibility to keep himself under control. She had been tending his wounds, not propositioning him! Yet, it had been he who had taken it further, but that would not happen again.

As he took a seat across from her - he did not trust himself to sit at her side - he tossed a log into the flames. “Because of our delay at the cave, we are still at least another week from Comhill. As long as the weather holds out, that is.”

“Then we will make good time,” Nora replied in a flat tone. “It is a relief I will be there soon.”

Luke sighed. It was as he had suspected. The girl who once feared for what the future held now found relief in a life spent living in a church. At least she had responded to him, even if what she said saddened him.

He paused. Why would her choice make him sad? The decision was hers, not his. What did it matter to him if she chose the life of a ward of the Church? Had that not been what he had set out to do since they first left Moreton?

Luke frowned, trying to think of another topic of discussion, but none came to mind. The only sounds were the crackling of the fire and the movement of the leaves in the light breeze. The silence between them said more than words could have expressed, and he found he did not like it. Yet, what could he do?

She lay down on the pallet she had made from one of the blankets, pulled another blanket on top of her, and rolled over so her back faced him without so much as a word of goodnight. Not once during their journey had she failed to do so, not even when Henry had convinced her to go with him to search for his son.

“There is a town nearby, Peckington if I remember correctly,” he said in a final attempt at conversation.

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