A Summer Seduction Read Free Page B

imagine why. I can’t remember ever holding a child before.”
    “No? I suspect it does not require a great deal of practice, only willingness. I knew scarcely a thing about them before Matthew.”
    “He changed a number of lives, didn’t he?” Alec murmured, looking down into the baby’s wide blue eyes.
    The nurse came to take Matthew up for his nap. Alec found himself oddly reluctant to hand the child over, but it was time to take tea with the vicar. He excused himself to Thea, and since it was a pleasant summer afternoon, he decided to walk through the ruins of the old abbey rather than ride his horse the long way around to the vicarage.
    The Priory, where the Morecombes lived, and St. Margaret’s Church, on the opposite side of the ruins, were the only buildings remaining intact from the large convent that had once lain there. The cloisters and various outbuildings were now nothing more than a few partial walls and jumbled heaps of stones. Beyond the ruins lay the graveyard of the church, and seeing the stone markers, Alec was reminded of his dream the other night, in which he had run after Jocelyn through the gravestones. He thought of how he had caught and kissed her, only for her to turn into Damaris in his arms.
    He pulled himself from his reverie and realized that he had come to a complete stop, lost in thought. He was utterly alone, with only the sturdy old stone church looming before him. On impulse, Alec turned toward the church instead of continuing across the little bridge to the vicarage.
    The ancient wooden door closed firmly behind him as he passed through the vestibule into the sanctuary beyond. It was silent inside, light filtering in through the stained-glass windows lining the outer walls, casting soft colors across the high-backed wooden pews and ancient stone floors. The church, like many other old churches, was laid out in the shape of a cross, a shorter pair of arms thrusting out to either side just before the altar.
    Alec drifted into the small chapel on the left side. It was partially separated from the rest of the church by iron fretwork and contained only a few short pews. Against the far wall, beneath the windows, lay two stone sepulchers of along-ago lord and his lady, both topped with recumbent effigies. They were washed in the faint blue and yellow light streaming through the stained glass. On the wide wall near Alec stood a statue of St. Dwynwen, the Welsh patron saint of love, which that same medieval lord had taken from its place in Wales, along with a Welsh wife.
    Damaris had recounted the legend to Alec when they were in the church for Matthew’s baptism—how the lord had credited the saint with winning his lady love for him and so had brought the statue home and built the chapel in her honor. Since that time, according to the local lore, prayers to the saint were granted if one prayed with a true and loving heart. Alec was not certain exactly what that entailed, but he noted that two candles burned in the votive stand beside the statue. Clearly someone believed.
    He moved closer to the statue and stood for a moment gazing down at it. It was rough and obviously quite old, with a chunk missing here and there and a decided crack running through it. Yet there was something soothing about the crudely chiseled face, a look of peace, even love. Alec turned and sat down in the pew, gazing out across the church at the baptistry, which lay in the opposite short arm of the sanctuary. He thought about the day in February when he had stood there at the ornately carved baptismal font.
    Gabriel and Thea had stood next to him, the baby in Thea’s arms, arms and legs waving about, as Daniel Bainbridge had read out the solemn words. And across from Alec, on the other side of the font, had stood Damaris Howard. She hadworn a velvet cloak in the wintry chill of the church, and its dark purple had deepened the intense color of her eyes. He remembered gazing at her, his eyes caught by the thick gloss