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    The Merchant and the Clergyman
    The Merchant and the Clergyman
    The Merchant and the Clergyman
    Ebook239 pages4 hours

    The Merchant and the Clergyman

    By Bonnie Dee and Summer Devon

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    About this ebook

    A village clergyman
    Curate James Fletcher is content shepherding his parishioners through the good and bad times of their lives. If he sometimes dreams of making a deeper connection with a man who truly knows everything about him, it is an impulse he ignores.
    A devoted businessman
    Declan Shaw solves problems at his family’s many business enterprises. Recently, he’s considered ceasing his travels to pursue a few desires of his own. He’d love to explore his secret love of cooking and perhaps have a relationship with a man that lasts longer than a night.
    The event that brings them together
    In town for his cousin’s wedding, Declan meets James just as he’s bested the annoying groom. Intrigued by the mild-mannered cleric’s surprising spirit, Declan asks James to help him discover if his aging aunt is being mistreated by her spouse.
    As their paths repeatedly cross, the men reach an intersection of attraction they can’t ignore. Will they dare purse forbidden passion and continue to journey together into the future, or will their differences tear them apart?

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherSummer Devon
    Release dateOct 26, 2015
    ISBN9781310796463
    The Merchant and the Clergyman
    Author

    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. To stay informed about new releases, please SIGN UP FOR MY NEWSLETTER. Help an author out by leaving a review and spreading the word about this book among your friends. You can join my street team at FB. Learn more about my backlist at http://bonniedee.com or find me on FB and Twitter @Bonnie_Dee.

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      Book preview

      The Merchant and the Clergyman - Bonnie Dee

      The Merchant and the Clergyman

      By Bonnie Dee & Summer Devon

      SMASHWORDS EDITION

      Copyright © 2014 by Bonnie Dee & Summer Devon

      All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

      This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

      Smashwords License Notes

      This e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This e-book may not be resold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. Thank you for respecting the author's work.

      Dedication

      For Kade, Kaje and others who like many of our books and not just because we like yours too. And of course for you too.

      Chapter One

      James had spent much of his childhood holding personal conversations with God, so becoming a curate, a curer of souls, made perfect sense. Never mind that most of his conversations were one-sided arguments and complaints. By the time he left school, he’d made a concord of sorts with his maker and had learned to help others find a version of peace.

      His father and mother, genteel souls, were quietly delighted with his choice and even happier when he came back to the village where he’d been raised.

      Life in Bishop’s Hartfeld suited him. After all, he’d grown used to his own loneliness and secrets. He knew how to tuck them away while he visited parishioners to drink tea or sit by the bedside of the dying.

      Vicar Ethan Hollister seemed pleased that he took up all the more onerous daily tasks of their profession, and the bishop liked the fact that ladies in James’s parish threw themselves into church work.

      Today James was to meet with Miss Emily Parker to discuss what the villagers called the wedding of the decade. He invited the bride into his cottage for tea and ginger biscuits. For a moment, the sheer enthusiasm of her acceptance gave him pause. After several embarrassing experiences involving weeping, disappointed ladies, he’d learned never to spend time alone with women or girls, as they seemed to be unaccountably attracted to him. Miss Parker’s purpose turned out to be almost as appalling as an attempt at seduction.

      The bans have been posted, and Kip and I wanted to tell you the wedding will be held on the sixteenth, a Saturday morning. Miss Parker beamed and ate her stale biscuit and sipped too-pale tea with apparent pleasure—James had no housekeeper and could never get the measurements right. You’re free, I hope? You know Kip is especially fond of you. He tells me all about your school adventures.

      For a moment, he gaped at her. Did Kip tell how he’d tortured James, or how he’d kept that as much a secret as the more unmentionable things that had happened between them? No, of course Kip Darnley wouldn’t be so honest with his fiancée.

      Yes, we were the only two from Bishop’s Hartfeld to attend the school. James carefully wrote the date for the wedding in his book and forced himself to look up at the happy and beautiful young lady sitting in a chair across from his desk. I think Vicar Hollister will want to conduct this ceremony. Squire Darnley will want that as well.

      Oh no. She waved a hand. Kip insists that you must perform the service. He asked me to talk to you about it.

      The coward wouldn’t face him, of course, and what was he playing at, demanding James be involved in the wedding ceremony?

      James smiled at Miss Parker and couldn’t bring himself to resent her smug pleasure at landing a giant fish like the squire’s son. She repeated Kip’s name as if the word itself was precious and she couldn’t keep from saying Kip thinks as often as possible.

      James hoped the entitled son of a squire appreciated her joyful spirit and didn’t turn his sharp mockery on her. It would be a sad thing to see this cheerful girl beaten down by Kip’s derisive nature.

      Reverend Hollister should perform the ceremony. My duties mostly consist of administering to the sick and teaching. James tried to sound regretful. You should speak to him.

      Miss Parker gathered her gloves and smiled at him. I shall, but it’s a disappointment, Mr. Fletcher. I don’t think Kip will be pleased.

      And I don’t give a damn what Kip thinks. James hoped he wasn’t lying to himself.

      James should have known Kip would toy with him like a cat with a mouse. A week after Miss Parker’s visit, and less than a week before the wedding, the betrothed couple appeared at James’s small cottage. Kip’s large but elegant form filled the front door, blocking out the watery daylight. He sauntered in, trailed by his fiancée. Kip sat on the threadbare sofa without being asked. After a moment’s hesitation, James offered a chair to Miss Parker next to the sofa.

      What’s this I hear? The guests are arriving, and we need to get this settled. Miss Parker says you’re balking. Not what I like to hear. Kip shook a finger at James. You do the service. My fiancée particularly wants it.

      A small flicker of surprise crossed the young woman’s face, but then she nodded and agreed.

      Kip turned to her. Dearest, you must go see if Mrs. Hollister is in. I’ll be along in a minute. I just need to twist our friend’s arm.

      She rose and kissed his cheek. James escorted her to the door and watched her skip down the lane toward the vicar’s much larger home across the churchyard. With most people over the age of ten, skipping would seem an affectation, but not for lighthearted Miss Parker.

      James closed the door, turned to Kip, and spoke. She deserves happiness.

      Are you implying I won’t make her happy? Oh, how that lip, curling in a sneer, reminded James of their past.

      I hope you will both be happy, James said politely.

      You sound like you’re uttering a funeral pronouncement. Come on, Jimmy, you know I’ll be a fine husband. No one knows better. He leered. Do you miss me, Jimmy?

      Kip leaned forward. The scent of expensive cologne reminded James of the feel of Kip’s body near his, the taste of him on his tongue. The casual, exciting cruelty of his touch. The contrast of his dark hair and blue eyes had entranced James since the day they’d met. Kip’s muscular body and the absolute lack of delicacy in his blunt features had always seemed thoroughly masculine—brutal and lovely.

      Not at all. James wasn’t lying—not entirely.

      I could make you do whatever I wish again. I could get you to suck my cock. You would fall to your knees with a smile on your face.

      James walked across the small room and stood behind a chair, a sad attempt to protect himself from Kip—and his own desires. No. I think not. His mouth watered.

      Are you so much more devout now that you wear that collar?

      Actually, he felt less pious all the time. I can see you more clearly now, Mr. Darnley.

      So formal, Jimmy boy. You are growing stuffy.

      James went on as if the overbearing blister hadn’t interrupted. May I say that I hope, for Miss Parker’s sake, that you care more about her than you do about most of the world.

      She has nothing to do with this.

      You’re here to discuss your wedding. I’d say she has a great deal to do with our meeting.

      This meeting between you and me? Oh, not at all. Physically, Kip was glorious, with his blue eyes and wide smile. He rose to his feet now. James was horrified to see that he was unbuttoning his trousers. And James was even more horrified to feel his own fascination and the pressure of his own erection.

      Come on Jimmy boy. It’s been a long time, hasn’t it? Kip cooed and reached in to pull out his partially erect penis. Have a nice treat.

      Go away, Kip. You’re disgusting.

      Nonsense. You crave me. Suck me.

      He came close enough to place his hand on James’s head and exert pressure. For two years, when that pressure touched his head, James had dropped everything, his pride, his scruples, and he’d fallen to his knees. He’d worshipped that lovely prick as if it was precious to him. It had been.

      He craved powerful men and, apparently, casual cruelty. He’d begged God to take both desires away. But that prayer hadn’t been answered, so he’d had to take matters into his own hands and learned to turn away from that part of himself.

      Jimmy boy, you know you’ll obey me.

      Stop it, James said.

      The pressure on his head increased. No.

      He felt too close to giving in, so he took action. He brought his knee up fast and hard between Kip’s legs. Kip yelled, clasped his hands over his crotch, and collapsed on the floor. The sight shocked James. He’d laid low the one devil of his life, though it gave him little pleasure. If only he could as easily vanquish the demons in himself.

      James squinted in unavoidable sympathy but didn’t move except to fold his arms. I shan’t conduct your wedding. I have half a mind to tell your bride what sort of man you are. He added, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to strike such a hard blow. As usual, he tempered his strongest actions with apologies.

      Kip writhed and gasped. When he managed to get his breath back, he used it to call James a cocksucking nancy and other phrases he’d used while thrusting into James’s mouth back in their school days.

      No, I’ve decided I won’t tell her, James said, loud enough to be heard over Kip’s curses. She loves you, and perhaps she has enough love for both of you.

      James hadn’t heard the door open. He’d been too focused on escaping Kip’s power over him. It had been so long, and he was dismayed to learn he still desired one of the least amiable men he knew.

      A deep voice startled him. Good God, what happened here?

      Perhaps Mr. Darnley is having a fit, James said, too disgusted with Kip and himself to care what this stranger thought.

      The large man wore dusty clothes, a driver’s coat, and worn boots. After giving James a scowling frown, he dropped to a crouch by Kip’s side. What’s going on?

      He hit me, Kip gasped.

      The man looked at James. Aren’t you some sort of priest? His deeply tanned face made his eyes—as blue as Kip’s—brilliant. They regarded James with interest.

      I’m James Fletcher, the curate. And I didn’t hit Kip, I, ah, struck him with my knee.

      The man suddenly showed a gorgeous smile. So familiar—Kip’s smile. That’s some muscular Christianity you have there, Mr. Fletcher.

      James didn’t smile back and turned his attention to his victim. Are you able to stand, Mr. Darnley? I’m certain your fiancée is wondering where you are. You said you’d join her.

      The big man, who could only be some sort of relative, clapped a hand on Kip’s shoulder, then rose to his feet. He crossed his arms and studied James. Why on earth did you knee Darnley in the balls?

      He can tell you if he wishes.

      Kip had more color in his face but still took deep breaths between words. Fletcher is a sodomite, and when he tried to pressure me to do horrible things, we got into a fight.

      Hmm. The man didn’t seem particularly shocked, which should have relieved James, but he still felt the haze of disinterest. None of this felt real.

      What would he do now that he’d ruined his future here? Perhaps go to London. He’d have to talk to his bishop, of course, give an accounting of why he’d struck the son of the richest man for miles around, and now there was this tiresome added accusation of sodomy. Would it get back to his parents? Could he explain it away without lying right to their faces? He couldn’t bear that. Avoidance of the subject was one thing, but outright lying wasn’t in his nature.

      Kip could sit up now, though he still hunched over his lap. He seemed to be fighting tears. Curse you, James Fletcher. I’m going to talk to Hollister. I’m going to summon the constable.

      The stranger bent and offered a hand to Kip, who refused his help with a shake of his head. It’s your own business, Kip. But with your wedding so soon, you’d probably be better off not raising a stink about the crooked curate. Stick to looking after Emma.

      Emily, James corrected.

      From the floor, Kip protested. Christ almighty, Declan! The sodomite attacked me.

      The stranger absently tapped his chin with two fingers, drumming a face so similar to one James had once longed to kiss but never had. He looked at James and then back at Kip, who had gotten to his feet but still wobbled. That’s a strong accusation and a serious one. But I believe people will wonder—he’s about four inches and three stone smaller than you. Do you really want to stir up a scandal that might bring your own proclivities into question?

      Kip straightened and growled. Never mind, then. Goddamn you, Jimmy.

      Perhaps He will, James agreed. Go find your fiancée.

      Kip rubbed his face and apparently decided to ignore James’s existence. Still pale, he cleared his throat. It’s about time you got here, cousin. I’ve told Miss Parker all about you, and she’s longing to meet you. Of course, the mater and pater will be delighted you’re here. Kip was starting to regain his usual aplomb, that easy, pleasant manner with a touch of amused dominance. Soon his sharp wit would reappear. Once upon a time, James had regarded him as the epitome of sophisticated charm, even when he’d been sliced by Kip’s rapier tongue in front of the other youths.

      Declan shifted from foot to foot. Yes, I’ll be along soon. He sounded impatient.

      How have you arrived? By train? You may ride back to the house in my carriage, if you like. We’ll send someone to fetch your luggage.

      A slight frown suggested the visiting cousin was in no hurry to reach his destination. I’ve been sitting all day and would appreciate the chance to stretch my legs on a long walk. No need to give me a ride. Go to your Emily, and I’ll follow after, he ordered.

      Kip shot a worried look at Declan and a threatening one at James. Perhaps he feared leaving them alone lest James reveal Kip’s part in what had transpired. Don’t waste your time on Fletcher, he said and stalked off, limping a little.

      Declan put his fists on his hips and turned toward James. All right, man of the cloth, what was that about?

      James’s pulse raced, and the high-pitched ringing in his ears suggested he was on the verge of fainting. The magnitude of what had transpired and the accusations this stranger had heard suddenly hit him. The thing he’d feared his entire life appeared to finally be coming true—his secret had been exposed. James gripped the back of his office chair to steady himself and forced his voice not to quaver. It’s best that you talk to him yourself.

      Declan sighed and moved to a table where a dusty decanter of wine sat. A parishioner had given the bottle to James, and he kept it for visitors and as a temptation for himself. Drink had been a part of his problem at university. The stranger poured himself a glass without asking for permission—most definitely one of Kip’s relations.

      I was outside this house and heard some of what Kip was shouting. Luckily, no one else was around to hear. He observed James shrewdly over the rim of his glass. You needn’t fear my spreading tales. Whatever you may have gotten up to with my boor of a cousin is your concern.

      James blinked, too shocked to form words. This tall, rugged stranger who’d strode into the room with the confident manner of a man who knew his place in the world—master of it—seemed the sort most likely to be utterly repelled by even the suggestion of a dalliance between men. Yet Declan dismissed the possibility with a mere shrug, as if it were of little consequence.

      Whatever happened, no doubt my cousin deserved a sharp kick in the balls, the man drawled before taking a long swallow of wine. He regarded the half-empty glass. Not a bad vintage. Paired with some sharp cheese and a crusty baguette, it would make a fine snack. You wouldn’t happen to have such refreshments at hand? He glanced around the plainly decorated room as if James might have a hidden pantry somewhere.

      James’s hands shook, so he folded his arms over his chest again. How could this Declan behave in such an offhand manner? James certainly couldn’t. His calm had been broken. I—I believe Mr. Darnley and Miss Parker are waiting for you.

      Declan waved a hand, dismissing the idea. I’m in no hurry to be surrounded by relatives I haven’t seen in years. But you want to be rid of me.

      No, no, James said politely. Yes, yes, please, go. Please. Now.

      Declan examined the sleeve of his dusty coat. Such an interesting start to what I’d expected to be a dull visit.

      James’s face went hot. He had no interest in providing entertainment for this larger, drawling version of Kip. Mr. ah…

      Shaw, he supplied. Declan Shaw, at your service. Although one does wonder what your idea of service might entail.

      James ground his teeth together and reminded himself he abhorred violence. Driving his knee into the groins of two of the squire’s relations in one day would be beyond the pale. He stared down at Mr. Shaw’s boots.

      James had wanted to atone for his sins and had hoped the work he did for the village would be enough. Apparently, fate had another sort of penance in mind, in the form of coping with

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