The Vicar's Frozen Heart Read Online Free PDF Page A

embarrassment.
    “You should return to bed and rest. The roads are not clear enough to head to the village. My trip will have to wait until tomorrow.” His voice was commanding and would brook no argument. Truth be told, she felt far too weary to mount a dispute over much of anything. Bed sounded wonderful. To her surprise, the vicar moved to her side and clutched her elbow. “Allow me to assist you.”
    Heat emanated from his body and instinctively she leaned against him. Besides the warmth, she reveled in the solidness of him. Shame on her for finding an Anglican priest attractive. But she did, and as they slowly made their way back to his room she stole a glance at him. Ruggedly masculine profile, square jaw, and strong chin, yet he resembled a cold marble sculpture. Once across the threshold, he released her elbow and stepped back. “I will bring you a bowl of oatmeal and a cup of tea. You must eat.”
    She didn’t care for oatmeal, reminded her too much of the industrial home, but he was right: she should at least attempt to eat. “Yes. Thank you.”
    Mr. Colson turned and left the room, ignoring her gratitude. How rude.
    Eliza hurried as quickly as she could to remove some of her clothes. She left the chemise and blouse in place and crawled in under the covers, the warmth of the blankets causing her to moan softly. In truth, she could use another day to recover. Good thing the snow hampered her departure. And where would she go? A lump formed her in throat. After everything that happened, it would be easy to indulge in self-pity and have a good, cleansing cry, but she had the distinct feeling the vicar would not tolerate such behavior. Wasn’t in her nature, at any rate, and she was too tired to muster up a few tears.
    Mr. Colson returned with a tray, laid it on her lap, turned, and left the room without saying a word, closing the door behind him. Well. She frowned and glanced into the bowl at the paste-like lump of oatmeal. Eliza shuddered in distaste. At least he brought in sugar. Scooping up a heaping teaspoon, she sprinkled it over the oatmeal. To her surprise, she ate most of it and drank the tea, both warming her insides. With a yawn, she laid the tray on the floor, then curled up under the covers and fell fast asleep.
    * * * *
    By the time Eliza opened her eyes darkness had filled the room. She must have once again slept the afternoon away. The sudden urge to urinate caused her to sit upright. Should she locate a water closet or use the chamber pot once again? In her brief exploration, the vicarage appeared modern enough. Surely he must have an indoor necessary. She stood and then stepped into her wool skirt.
    After doing up the buttons she moved to the bedroom door and opened it, peering out into the darkened hallway. Had Mr. Colson already retired for the night? After stepping across the doorsill, Eliza quietly made her way to the end of the hall. Splashing water halted her steps. Since the door was partway open, she glanced in. At the front of the room Mr. Colson stood with his back to her, apparently having a sponge bath.
    The proper thing would be to retreat unnoticed and return to her room. However, she could not get her legs to move for the sight of his bare torso, broad shoulders, and muscular back held her in thrall. In the dim lighting, he appeared as perfectly formed as a demigod. Like Adonis. Her mouth went dry as he lifted his arm and washed underneath, muscle and sinew rippling under his skin with each movement. Eliza’s own skin grew hot as her concentrated gaze followed the trail of the cloth from under his arm to across his stomach. His shoulders and back tapered down to a slim waist with not an ounce of fat to be seen. The tight trousers hugged a firm backside, and Eliza bit her lip to stem the moan from escaping her.
    She was incredibly aroused. Moisture gathered between her thighs and her insides dipped. Mr. Colson turned to face her. Their gazes locked and held. Though mortified at