Sinful Possession (Cynfell Brothers Book 5) Read online

  Chapter Ten

  Their carriage came to a stop outside the walls of a red brick house. Tall chimneys accented either end of the roof, and two large columns framed the house. Ivy covered much of the front. Lila sighed. It was utterly charming.

  Although large enough with—she glanced along the windows—at least eight or so bedrooms, it was miniscule compared with the house her family had rented for the ball and likely was no match for Ash’s family home either. But as a retreat by the sea, it was perfect.

  He opened the carriage door and aided her out. “You like it,” he stated.

  She supposed she must have had a dreamy look upon her face. Though she tried to school her expression into something more serene, she failed. “It’s...enchanting.”

  Ash lifted a brow.

  “You do not think so?” She didn’t wait for his answer. The view of the sea drew her across the dirt road to the cliff edge. The weather had been kind to them and though a brisk wind came off the sea, scenting the air with salt, the sun glinted off the rolling waves, turning the water an unusual blue for England.

  Ash came up behind her. “Don’t get too close to the edge. These cliffs have been eroding away for years. In my grandfather’s time, there was quite a collapse.” He gave a chuckle. “We used to own a lot more land here.”

  Lila peered over the edge to see along the line of the white cliffs. They were thoroughly alone here, and she could see why Ash had chosen this as a place to hide. With the exception of a tiny cluster of cottages slightly farther inland, they had seen no sign of civilisation for miles.

  Funny how she’d been so looking forward to the hustle and bustle of London and now...

  She glanced back at Ash. Now it held little appeal.

  Oh deary dear, that kiss. It was back in her mind again. For most of the journey, she’d been recalling it. Remembering the feel of his body and the way his mouth moved over hers. And now it had returned, haunting her thoughts.

  “Shall we go in?” He held out a hand.

  He kissed you, the touch of his palm reminded her. He. Kissed. You. Your lips touched. They had now kissed a total of three times but the last time...well, goodness, their bodies had certainly touched. But what did it all mean? He’d shown no sign of wanting to repeat it again, and it was hardly ladylike behaviour to fling herself upon him and beg for more kisses.

  Ash led her into the house and released her hand. Her stomach dropped a little. How was it possible to crave the simple touch of a man so much?

  Lila peered up at the winding wooden staircase as it twisted up to the top of the house. Carved shapes were etched into the ends—looking very much like giant pinecones—and the bannisters were curled and intricate. The hallways very much said female, from the powder blue walls to the lack of dramatic ornamentation. In a more masculine house she might have expected female figures to punctuate the ends of the stairs and pictures of hunts or medieval battles. Instead, seaside scenes and landscapes dotted the walls.

  “It’s so pretty.”

  Ash glanced around, almost surprised by the observation. He moved to light a lamp before shutting the door behind them and encasing them in a warm, glowing room. “My mother had free reign over this house. I think my father was happy to indulge if it meant she wasn’t around much.”

  “I’m sorry your parents had an unhappy marriage.”

  He lifted a shoulder. “They’re not alone.” With great efficiency, he moved through the rooms, drawing off the sheets and inspecting the fireplaces. “My brother must have been planning to come soon. We’ve plenty of firewood.”

  “Your brother is happily married, is he not? In fact, I thought several were.”

  He cast a look over his shoulder before dropping to his knees and setting to work on the fire in the main drawing room. “We won’t be able to light all of them, but if we keep this and the bedrooms warm, we’ll be just fine.”

  “Ash?”

  He gave a little grunt but kept his back to her. “Yes, my brothers are happily married. They found very fine women.”

  Lila sank onto one of the chairs and traced the delicate silver embroidery on it. Why was it important that she understood his stance on marriage? After all, a few kisses hardly meant they should marry. Although, her very likely ruination might...

  But did she even want that? Her hand forced into marrying a man who might not want her?

  “You don’t think you’ll find a fine woman?”

  He paused and dropped the flint in his hand. Lila swallowed and held her breath when he pivoted. The look he gave her was so intense that it made the room shrink. Nothing else existed except them. How did he do that?

  “I might find her. Whether she will want me is another thing.”

  Breathing became impossible until he twisted around and turned his attention back to the fire. She drew in a deep breath and pressed her palms against her chest. Oh deary dear, what an effect he had on her. Could he possibly have meant her? The look he’d given her had surely indicated so. But why would he think she wouldn’t want him? Why would any woman not want him? As far as she could see, there was no man on earth like him.

  Was she really talking herself into longing for a marriage with him? Lila put her hands to her cheeks and shook her head at herself. She didn’t know what she wanted.

  “There, that will warm up soon enough,” he announced and came to his feet. Lila dropped her hands as he studied her, a slight frown on his face. “Lila, are you well?”

  “Yes, of course.” She offered a stretched smile. “Just a little tired.”

  “Let me take your belongings upstairs. You’ll be at the top of the house. You can rest then if you like.”

  “I do not think—”

  He was gone, striding through the rooms to the hallway where they’d abandoned her meagre luggage. She strode after him but couldn’t catch up until he reached the top of the house. She paused to catch her breath after traversing all those stairs in a tight corset.

  Ash pushed open the door to the room near the front of the house. The bedroom was small but similarly furnished like the rest of the house. No canopy adorned the bed that looked plush and comfortable once Ash had drawn away the coverings. The silver and blue theme continued, echoing the wash of the ocean outside. She took a moment to peer out at the white tips on the unnaturally blue sea while seagulls swept past the window. Under any other circumstances, she could be quite happy staying here. It really was beautiful.

  “I am not that tired actually,” she put in while he placed her bag near a delicately gilded armoire.

  “Very well.” He looked mildly annoyed at her insistence she did not need rest. “Are you hungry?”

  Lila nodded, though she wasn’t sure she’d be able to eat, not after the look he’d given her earlier. It had imprinted on her brain and her hunger was slowly vanishing with every moment spent with him. Or, more accurately, being replaced with a different type of hunger.

  She very much wanted another look like that. Perhaps another kiss too. Maybe even more. She would have thought being away from Stourbridge would have rid her mind of such scandalous thoughts, but they lingered when he pressed a hand to the back of his neck and she saw his muscles flex against his shirt. Then when he brushed past her to guide her downstairs, she fought the need to lean into him and let his chest skim her body.

  Curling her fingers into her palms, she followed him meekly down to the kitchen. A large range occupied almost one side of the room. Lila moved around a well-worn table and eyed the blue and white china stacked neatly.

  “There are no regular staff here?” she asked.

  Ash shook his head and propped his hands on his hips. “My mother used to bring along the household staff and Julian and Viola do the same. There’s no sense in keeping it fully run at all times.”

  “So it’s just the two of us...” she murmured, more to herself.

  His dark eyes connected with hers. “It is.”

  Heat rolled up from deep down, filling he
r face. She glanced away.

  Ash opened the larder and peered in. “Well, we won’t be eating much fresh food, but there’s enough and the village shop is only two miles away. We can take a walk to it tomorrow.”

  He disappeared into the room and return with a handful of potatoes, a few carrots and a bunch of some kind of herbs, and a generous block of wrapped cheese. “Do you know how to cook?”

  Lila hated to admit it but she’d spent her life preparing to be the wife of someone rich. Cooking certainly was not part of her education. She shook her head numbly.

  “I can make a soup, I think.”

  “You can?”

  “It’s been a while, but I liked to spend time in the kitchens at Lockwood as a boy.”

  “Why?”

  He shrugged. “Seemed a good place to escape.”

  “Because of your headaches? Why the kitchens?”

  “It’s hard to be confined to your bed all the time when you’re a lad, particularly when your mother and father have forbidden it. My brothers were a boisterous lot so it seemed as good a place as any to hide.”

  “I’m sorry your parents weren’t sympathetic. I cannot imagine what that must be like.”

  He set out the vegetables and set about peeling the potatoes with a knife. She watched the movements with fascination, admiring the way his muscles flexed in his forearms.

  “Your parents are not so cold-hearted, I take it?”

  “They’re very loving, if a little...determined.”

  “Determined how?”

  Lila sat on a stool in the corner of the kitchen and glanced out of the window. From here, the sea stretched out, filling most of the view. She bit back a sigh. “They have always wanted a lot for me. I’m sure that is nothing different to most parents.”

  “As in marriage.”

  “A good marriage,” she corrected, facing him. “I had been so looking forward to achieving what they wanted for me.”

  He paused peeling. “But you’re not anymore?”

  “I’m not sure what I want anymore.”

  Or was she? Was what she wanted right in front of her? She hardly knew anything now. For as long as she could remember she’d been her family’s great hope. Why else would she be so blessed, said her mother. She was destined for great things.

  What if those great things no longer appealed? What if a good marriage would not make her happy?

  Ash studied her, until she fidgeted on the stool. She cleared her throat. “Can I help?”

  “You can peel the carrots. They’re not exactly fresh, but they’ll taste fine in a soup.”

  She slid off the stool and took a knife, copying his movements. Unfortunately, she wasn’t as efficient as him so by the time she had finished the three carrots, he was already putting water on the stove and adding the potatoes and herbs.

  “Can you chop them?” he asked.

  “I think so.”

  With great precision, she cut them into careful slices then brought them over to the range. Ash added them to the soup.

  “Shit.” He yanked his hand away and put his finger in his mouth.

  “What is it?”

  “Burned my finger,” he said, the words muffled from the finger in his mouth.

  Lila tugged his finger out of his mouth and inspected the small red mark on it. Before he could protest, she dragged him over to the sink and put his finger under the tap.

  “It’s cold,” he protested.

  “Good.”

  She held his hand under the water, fully aware he could pull away anytime he wanted. But he didn’t. At some point, she turned off the tap. Then she gently dabbed his finger dry. She was hardly aware of doing these things as she couldn’t drag her gaze from him. Her heart pounded so loudly she was certain he had to hear it. The truth came to her. If it weren’t for the fact a serial killer was after her, there was nowhere she’d want to be more than by Ash’s side. And if the way he looked at her was anything to go by, she suspected he felt the same.

  Chapter Eleven

  Feet burrowed in the warm sand, Ash admired the way the sun darted between the clouds and cast dark, shadowy patches over the sea. A light breeze ruffled his hair, but it wasn’t enough to make him worry about Lila’s welfare. He fought the temptation to lie back and admire her like that. But he had to stay on his guard.

  He could still appreciate her from his position on the beach, however. Standing rigid, he watched her lift the hem of her skirts and dart into the sea. She threw a smile at him over her shoulder and her loose hair swirled around her face. He wanted to push his fingers into that hair and capture that smile on his own lips so badly that he had to force his toes deeper into the sand to prevent himself from doing so.

  How much longer would they be here? He’d told Jasper to ensure they were contacted by direct messenger only. No letters or telegrams. Nothing that could be traced to them here. But he’d heard nothing yet. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust his brothers—he did—but they couldn’t remain here forever.

  Who knew what would happen between him and Lila if they did.

  Jasper would resolve this, he assured himself. As much as he hated depending on his brothers—something he never, ever did—he knew Jasper had the determination and reach to reveal the chief as the killer. His other brothers weren’t without their smarts either. He could quite easily admit they were all far savvier than he was. Between them, they couldn’t fail to ensure the killer was brought to justice.

  Lila’s laugh danced through the air toward him, like the sound of a siren beckoning him to his doom. He unrooted his feet and took a step forward. He’d never really seen anything like it. His childhood had been severe, and he and his brothers were all fairly rough with one another. The only brother to even consider the opposite sex when they were younger had been Gideon, who seemed to manage to befriend every woman in England.

  And his experiences with women had been limited to the bed and occasional ballroom.

  Another step. Even as he fought with himself, he drew closer to the water’s edge. The sand turned damp and sketched with ripples, and tiny spirals left by sea worms dotted it. His toes sank into the surface, and he bent to pick up a particularly pretty shell, recalling how Lila had begged him to take her to the beach, telling him how she loved to collect shells.

  Ash let a wry smile slip across his face. Funny, she hadn’t collected one shell yet but had spent much time drawing off her shoes and stockings and frolicking in what had to be fairly icy water.

  Lila lifted her skirts higher, revealing an expanse of calf, all the way up to her knees. He swallowed at the sight of shapely calves and porcelain skin. She had no idea what she was doing to him. The ridiculous thing was, he could never have considered himself particularly swayed by a women’s legs. He’d rather admire an ample cleavage or a round rear. But those legs had never been Lila’s, and it seemed everything about her made hot desire flow through him.

  She waded deeper, and he inched closer. The waves were gentle, only touching the hem of her skirts—not that she seemed bothered. But he still feared her tripping and somehow being pulled under. In all of a few feet of water.

  What a fool.

  Eyes glowing, she turned her grin fully onto him. His heart did some strange motion that had little to do with beating and everything to do with his need for Lila.

  “Oh.”

  Ash scowled. She stumbled. He leaped forward and grabbed for her. She cried out as he reached her and latched his arms around her. Her legs seemed to give way, and he scooped her up out of the water, heedless for his now drenched trousers.

  “Lila?” His heart pumped in his chest. “What’s wrong?”

  “My leg,” she spluttered out while he carried her back to shore. Once on dry land, he put her down and drew a breath into his tight chest. When he looked at her ashen face, he saw tears running down her cheeks. She bit her lip and her chin trembled.

  He knelt beside her and lifted her sodden skirts. He saw nothing but creamy, sligh
tly sand-dusted skin.

  “Ash,” she said, closing her eyes. “It hurts.”

  “Where, Lila?”

  “Higher. My thigh.”

  He gritted his teeth and inched her dress higher. Sucking in a breath, through his gritted teeth, he shook his head. “Oh, Lila, darling.”

  A scarlet zig-zag pattern travelled across her upper thigh marring her skin. He recognised the mark immediately. A jellyfish sting. Harris had suffered the same when they were children and staying here with his mother. Lila’s didn’t look nearly as severe—it seemed the jellyfish had only brushed her—but he doubted that would be of any comfort.

  “Shhh, all will be well,” he assured her at the same time as cursing himself for letting her go in the sea.

  He’d known there were jellyfish here. When Harris had been stung, their nanny had tried to stop them from swimming, but there was no controlling a group of young boys so they ignored the advice. However, he was an adult now and knew better.

  He leaned over and pressed a firm kiss to her forehead before inspecting the red mark. There were no tentacles or barbs as far as he could see. Damnation. He’d been distracted. What if it had been something worse, like the killer? Really, he was lucky it was just a sting—and a relatively small one at that. That didn’t stop him from wanting to take away that pain and suffer it himself. After all, he went through agony with his migraines on a regular basis. Far rather him suffer it than Lila.

  “All will be well,” he assured her again. “I’m just going to wash it with sea water.”

  He gave her hand a quick squeeze and stood to scoop some sea water. He rinsed her leg and inspected it again. Her little sobs burrowed inside him and wrenched at his heart. There was little more he could do. The physician had suggested something with Harris if he recalled correctly, but it had only made the sting worse. He might have a little laudanum, if not he’d dose her with some strong brandy.

  “Come on, let’s get you back to the house.”

  She nodded and latched her arms around him as he lifted her. His heart juddered. She did it again, tucked herself into his neck. Her damp skirts slapped against his body, and she was still slightly crusty with sand, as were his trousers at this point. There was nothing comfortable about this scenario, least of all for her, yet part of him longed to remain like this for as long as he could.