Chapter Three
Mark
Mark watched Clara Jennings walk away from him. She’d been a beautiful teenager; as a woman, she was perfection.
Right now, the light was shining through the flimsy skirt she wore, and he could make out her long, delicate legs as the material swished around them. Her hair bounced as she called to him to have a nice day, and his fingers ached to touch it, the way she’d done, twirl it around his thumb and capture the texture of it, the scent, too.
She closed the church door with a clunk, and he blew out a breath.
It was going to be harder here in Southwark than he could ever have anticipated. He’d moved here hoping the city would be a distraction from the male needs that gnawed away at him. He knew he’d have sex one day, full on sex, intercourse, but that wouldn’t be until his wedding night. That was the way God intended it for him, and he was happy to wait.
But damn, Clara’s face, her upturned nose, sexy mouth, stunning eyes, had whisked him back to the day he’d very nearly lost his virginity to her.
The barn had been warm, and he could still recall the smell of the hay and how dust motes floated in the air. She’d been soft, giggly, willing, and he’d been hard, lustful, and keen to make it as good for her as he knew she could make it for him.
His sexy little girlfriend had been strong, though, for both of them—insisting she wanted her first time to be in a proper bed—and they’d come up with a compromise.
Mark took several steps to the right and sat at the end of a pew. He clasped his hands together and tipped forward, resting on the bench in front of him. Blood rushed to his groin as he remembered, with shocking clarity, how she’d slipped his pants down and worked him until he’d splattered cum onto his belly and her hand. She’d wiped it off with hay and a glint of achievement had flashed in her eyes.
She’d then shown him how to please her, where to touch, how fast, and how much pressure. Everything about her had made his teenage hormones wild, and as he’d worked her to an orgasm with his fingers, she’d made him come again. They’d been a writhing mass of desire in the hay, coated in sex sweat and the scent of arousal.
It was singularly the most erotic experience of his life.
And now, after being buried for so long, he remembered everything about it, and everything about her.
“I’ve asked you to forgive me before, Lord,” he whispered. “For breaking her heart. I knew I had, because what I did, it broke mine, too.” He squeezed his eyes closed and thought of that night at the school disco. They were kids, sure, but the feelings they’d had for each other were real, intense and fiery. Telling her he only wanted to be friends had ripped his world in two. But what choice had he had? His parents, strict and God-fearing, had insisted they split up, saying they were concerned that Mark would sin with her. For a while he’d wondered if they’d been spotted in the barn, or if they’d smelled sex on him. But those concerns had eased over time. His parents would have been very vocal if that had been the case. He could have argued with them, and in fact he had. But when a family move was also on the cards, several hundred miles away, and a new school for the last year of his education planned, making a clean break seemed to be the best solution.
The upheaval, the parental pressure and his roller-coastering emotions had led him to break Clara’s heart and his own. Would he make the same decision again? Probably not. He liked to think his adult self would be more compassionate, more empathetic, and considered. But the past was the past, and he couldn’t undo history. And in the light of the calling he’d found a year after graduating, it was for the best. He’d devoted himself to God and God’s teachings. Pleasing the Lord and allowing his life to be led by the directions in the Bible made Mark happier and more secure than he’d ever been.
He sat up straight and stared at the effigy of Christ on the altar. Later, Clara would be back, and he’d need to summon strength from Jesus to remain professional and keep his thoughts pure.
There was going to be nothing easy about that.
Standing, and pleased the ache in his groin had eased, he headed into the tea room. A round of placid conversations with his new congregation would surely help distract his wayward thoughts of the past and put everything back into perspective.
****
The evening sermon was short and light-hearted. It was clearly something Reverend Gerald enjoyed, and although there weren’t as many churchgoers as at the morning service, it was still well attended. Mark suspected the free cheese and wine afterward may have had something to do with that.
He sipped a small glass of merlot and chatted to an elderly woman, Beatrice, who had not only been widowed recently but found her twenty-year-old grandson now living with her. She was of the opinion her young lodger was both a blessing and a cause for concern, and Mark was happy to listen to her worries and offer his support going forward. He managed to only glance at the large black clock on the wall twice even though it was a magnet to him. Would Clara be able to escape the ward early and join them? Perhaps the traffic was bad. He didn’t know if she drove, or cycled or walked to work. Come to that she hadn’t even mentioned which hospital she nursed in.
Just as Beatrice excused herself to get more cheese, the door opened.
Clara stepped into the busy room, pushing her hair behind her ears as she did so.
Mark felt his heart rate pick up. For a moment, he forgot to breathe, and everything and everyone faded away.
There was only her. She absorbed every shred of his attention, filled his vision, and for the first time a part of his soul felt complete, just by being in the same room with her.
She spotted him and paused, her hand falling to her side and her lips parting.
All the emotions Mark had felt in the past came rushing back. He longed to hear her laugh again, a real belly laugh, unhindered and free. He wanted to hold her in his arms, be reminded of the fragile feel of her back, ribs, arms, and legs as he wrapped them in his big ones. And her mouth, he wanted it on his, her tongue probing, her flavor filling his senses.
What are you doing?
She pressed her hand to her chest and appeared to blow out a breath.
Mark found himself walking toward her. He put one foot in front of the other in an almost dreamlike state.
He’d been a fool to ever let her go.
And now…
“Hey,” she said, when he drew close. “I’m sorry I’m late.”
“It doesn’t matter, you’re here now,” he said, putting his hands into the pockets of his smart black pants. The urge to touch her was strong. He had to trap his hands somehow and was glad he’d ditched the cassock for this service.
“It was a bit busy, the ward. I stayed to help out.”
“That’s kind of you.”
She smiled and gestured to the table holding the cheese and wine. “I might get a little something.”
“Yes, do. What would you like?”
“A glass of red and a chunk of the cheddar Reverend Gerald gets from Borough Market. It’s delicious, has little crystals of salt in it.” She rolled her lips in on themselves. “Mmm…”
“I’ll have to try it.”
“You should.”
They walked to the table, and Mark poured her a glass of wine. “Here.”
“Thanks.” She took it, then popped a cube of cheese into her mouth.
Mark watched, fascinated, as her eyelids fluttered and her jaw moved. The pleasure in her expression transported him to another time and place, when it had been he who’d created that blissful expression and not a lump of cheddar.
“Here,” she said, after she’d swallowed. “Try it.” She reached for a cube and held it before him.
He hesitated. It seemed such an intimate gesture, to take food from her fingers.
“I’ve got clean hands, promise.” She giggled and placed the cheese up against his lips.
What the hell?
He opened up and took it. The smoky, salty flavor flooded his mouth. “Wow, it is good.” He raised his fingers to his face as he spoke.
“Told you.” She sipped her wine and gazed up at him. “Once sampled, it’s one of those things you never forget.”
Just like you.
He closed his eyes for a moment and swallowed. He needed to get his train of thought back under control. He’d spent the afternoon quiet with his feelings and directing them at work duties and concentrating on the commitments he’d made to Him. But the minute Clara had walked into the room it was as if the energy had changed. Now she was all he could think of. Memories swirled within him. Regrets, what-ifs, how the future might have panned out. Her feeding him tasty morsels really didn’t help the situation.
“Ah, Clara, you made it.” Reverend Gerald appeared at his side. “How was the ward?”
Clara removed her attention from Mark, and for a moment he wondered if similar thoughts to his had been going through her mind. Did she still regret the fact they’d ended, or was it ancient history, long forgotten? Heck, she probably had some hunk of a boyfriend waiting outside to take her for dinner, then the theater. Likely he was jetting her off to the Maldives, or New York next weekend for a wild time.
Lucky bloke.
“It was busy,” Clara directed at Gerald. “But just the usual.”
“Did the old guy, Desmond, with the fractured hip get home?”
“He’s gone to stay with his daughter, in Hammersmith, to recover, but he should be fine to go back to his flat in a few weeks.”
“Ah, that’s good. Nice chap, wasn’t he? Fascinating to talk to.”
“He’s certainly well-traveled.” Clara took another sip of wine.
“And I see you’re getting on well with our young new vicar.” Gerald nodded at Mark.
“Yes.” Clara hesitated. “Actually, we’re just catching up. We went to school together.”
“Well I never.” Reverend Gerald pressed his palms flat, the tips of his fingers brushing his chin. “The good Lord above does work in mysterious ways, doesn’t he?”
Mark smiled and nodded. He was a little surprised Clara had mentioned their previous acquaintance. He didn’t know why. Perhaps it was because it had been passionate, intimate, and he’d never told anyone about it. But then again, it’s not as if she’d come out and said they’d had a naked roll in the hay. Going to school together meant exactly that, old school friends.
“Yes, it is,” Clara said, returning her attention to Mark. “Very mysterious.”