Page 42 of Brutal Serpent

You can have him!I thought, but then I felt his hand on the back of my neck as he directed me to greet the Quality who were there for the service.

The vicar’s name was Mr. Elton and I was very surprised to see that he was a handsome man with thick chestnut brown hair, melting brown eyes, and a deep, melodic voice. All of the vicars I had known had been elderly and wizened men or overanxious and gangling juniors. I assumed Mr. Elton was the reason the church was quite well-attended, the parishioners all looking mostly alert even on Sunday morning.

Mrs. Elton was a pretty brown-haired woman with a round, friendly face, and she squeezed my hand in such a cheerful fashion that I felt at home.

The other introductions were a blur. A local squire named Robert Martin and his large, boisterous family. A few spinsters I envied. A young buck connected to the Martin family who was clearly overawed by the Viscount and wanted to discuss the upcoming ptarmigan hunting season.

“I’m regretting this already,” St. Erth said as he led me inside the church. Although it was only the morning, the building was already feeling warm and stuffy in the July heat.

Since the Viscount was the highest-ranking person in attendance, naturally we had a box pew all to ourselves, our seats surrounded with a high wooden wall on all four sides so that only our heads were visible.

I sat down in the pew, arranging my book and purse in my lap and my skirts carefully around me, still feeling eyes on me. St. Erth sat next to me, his thigh brushing mine. I was irritated to feel my skin heat at the contact. Ever since my husband had given me medical treatment to regulate my humors, I had beenfeeling the most unwelcome sensations whenever he came close to me.

For one foolish moment, I had the insane urge to misbehave so he would give me the treatment again.

I could pretend to be hysterical, roll around on the ground and maybe even foam at the mouth.

However, knowing my husband, he was just as likely to put me over his knee in front of everyone first, and that would be horribly embarrassing.

Truly, my humorsmustbe unregulated if I was thinking thoughts like this, and on a Sunday, too!

I breathed deeply, focusing on the lovely stained-glass windows, until I didn’t feel the urge to be disobedient again.

Still, I felt nervous that the thought had even crossed my mind. Maybe my Mama was right. There was a most improper wild streak in me that managed to twist and turn my insides no matter how I tried to squash it.

Mr. Elton stopped by the box pew before heading to the pulpit.

“Welcome to Rosewood Village Church, Viscountess,” he said. “I am sure you will be a great benefit to our humble community here.”

His eyes were warm, and he nodded in a friendly fashion as he passed by.

I thought nothing of it, but I heard St. Erth’s low growl beside me.

“What is the matter?” I hissed at him.

I turned slightly, brushing my bonnet back to look at him. He was glaring in the direction of the vicar and he put one vice-like hand on my thighs.

“Fine fucking behavior for a godsdamn vicar,” he said angrily. “Fawning all over you!”

“Shhh!” I said, in agony that he would be overheard. I only hoped the noise of the congregation was too great. “What are you talking about? He was just doing his Christian duty. He has awife!”

“If he doesn’t want trouble, he’ll keep his eyes on his own wife,” St. Erth said in a grim tone.

My cheeks flushed as I darted quick nervous glances around.

What had gotten into my husband!

I was in an agony until the congregation quieted and Mr. Elton began to preach.

Unlike most of the vicars of my youth, Mr. Elton did not drone on, but spoke in a lively, manner, explicating the lesson with energy.

As I wrote down the verses Mr. Elton preached from in my notebook, I felt my husband’s eyes on me. His frown felt like a chill along my skin, making goosebumps pop along my neck and down my arms.

I tried to ignore him, tried to focus on the moral lessons in the sermon, but I found myself having the most unexpectedly wicked and blasphemous thoughts. Eve was supposed to be a wicked wife for leaving Adam’s side and wandering around the Garden of Eden by herself. But sometimes the snake was so hypnotic it was hard to look away. . .

Then I felt my husband’s hand on me. I wanted to shudder at his touch, but I didn’t dare, my skin feeling like it flared under his rough fingers. He leaned so close that his breath stirred the ringlets cascading from my updo.

“I don’t like my wife looking at other men,” he hissed in my ear, and I felt a hot, prickly warmth go down my spine.

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