Sinful Possession (9 page)

Rolling her eyes, she bent
to give him a kiss on the cheek. “Get better quickly, Harris. Then I can tell
all the ladies how dashing you were when you saved my life.”

“I believe my brother was
mostly responsible for that. I simply managed to get in the way.”

“Well, you’re a hero to me.”
She glanced up at Anna. “Thank you for letting me stay here. I am sorry to have
brought you trouble.”

The raven-haired woman
lifted a shoulder. “Trouble finds me all the time. It is nothing I can’t
handle. I hope they catch this killer soon so you can return to London.”

Lila didn’t know what to
say. The thought of returning had lost its appeal over the past few days,
somehow. The thought of all the balls, the artificial smiles and the fake
compliments made her feel weary. Or perhaps that was simply her sleepless night
doing that. Yes, it must be. After all, she’d spent most of her life looking
forward to the day she could step out in London.

“Look after Ash for us,”
Anna said softly. “He’s a good man.”

She eyed Anna and tried to
establish exactly what she meant, but she was too hard to read. She knew Ash
was a good man, whether he was lazy or a habitual drinker. To her, he was
simply the man who would do anything to protect her.

Most of the guests were abed
when she descended the stairs and her footsteps echoed across the marble. She
found Ash loading her few borrowed gowns onto the carriage.

“Are you ready?”

“Yes. Are you sure about
this?” She put a hand to his arm.

“Harris agrees your safety
is a priority. I’d trust Anna with my life so I am trusting her with my brother's.”

There it was again, the ache
in her belly. “You shall miss them I suppose.”

He scowled. “We might be
twins, but we’re not boys anymore. We hardly spend every hour together. I’m
sure he won’t miss me anymore than I’ll miss him. Besides, he has far too much
fine company for me to feel any sympathy for him.”

“Yes, Anna is very lovely.”

His scowl deepened. “He’d
better not do anything to hurt her.”

“I’m sure he won’t.”

“He can be a damned
blackguard at times.”

“I am not sure Anna will let
him hurt her. I imagine her affection lies elsewhere.”

He lifted a brow. “You do?”

That convinced her. He was
clueless as to any gossip about them or Anna’s maybe feelings toward him.
Something she had discovered since coming to London was men could be incredibly
foolish when it came to feelings. Ash was no different, it seemed.

“I believe she likes you
very much,” Lila said softly. Why she was pushing this, she did not know. If he
reciprocated, it would be painful. It shouldn’t be, but it would.

Both brows rose, and he
glanced up at the house then at her. “We are good friends. Nothing more. Come,
we best get a move on. I do not like having you out in the open.”

Lila allowed him to hand her
up into the carriage. Though the weight had lifted a little, she almost wished
he would tell her without doubt that he had no feelings for Anna. Then she
could...

She could what? Fall in love
with him? Marry him? He had expressed no interest in such things, and that was
what she needed, was it not? A good marriage, and well, really, she had hoped
for love too.

Ash settled next to her, and
she grew aware of his hard thigh next to hers. Though the thickness of the
skirts prevented her from feeling much, when the carriage moved off, they
jostled together, their shoulders brushing and his thigh pressing harder
through the layers. She swallowed hard and twined her gloved hands together.

This was not how she had expected
it to be—attraction. She had thought she would want the gentleman concerned to
sweep her off her feet. Press delicate kisses to her lips and perhaps quote
sonnets to her. Even ask for a lock of her hair.

But no.

It seemed she liked intense
stares and stilted compliments. Brooding looks and a hard body accidentally
brushing hers. There was no hint of flirtation in his manners, and she adored
it.

“We shall leave the carriage
at Reading station,” Ash told her. “We’ll travel straight to Canterbury and
change there for Whitstable. That’s where the house is.”

“Will we not be tracked
there?”

“The house was my mother’s.
She used it when we were young as a retreat from...well, everything. It’s not
widely known it belongs to us.”

Lila nodded. At present, she
was beyond arguing with him. She was too confused to do anything but be meek
and mild and go along with whatever he thought best. If he wanted them to
traverse half the country to escape this madman, then so be it.

Reading proved to be a busy
station, and they hardly had to wait at all for a train. Weariness seeped into
her from her night-time vigil and her head had begun to hurt. They ended up
sharing a carriage with several other ladies and gentleman so Ash sat close to
her, being his usual quietly protective self. Thankfully none of the travellers
seemed in a talkative mood so she allowed herself to rest against his shoulder
and soon sleep claimed her.

Lila slept until around
lunchtime when Ash awoke her to escort her to the dining carriage. He remained
stoic, and she remained too tired to probe him. Was he concerned for his
brother? Thinking of Anna?

By the time they came into
Canterbury, it was growing dark. The small Palladian style train station was
lit by lamps that reflected the occasional puddle on the ground. Kent had not
been as lucky as Surrey weather-wise it seemed.

“We’ll travel on to Whitstable
tomorrow,” Ash informed her, taking her arm.

Lila suppressed a yawn, and
she noted he was pinching the bridge of his nose. Perhaps he was as weary as
she, but why? He had slept solidly all of the previous night.

“There is a hotel not far
from here.” He paused. “I shall say we are husband and wife.”

“Why not brother and sister?”

“Because I refuse to leave
you alone in a strange place.”

“Do you really believe Newton
will know where we are? How could he possibly?”

“I did not think he would
find you at Stourbridge, but he did.”

“I’ve been thinking about
that. Maybe...maybe it was just an accident.”

“One shot, perhaps. Two
shots, certainly not.” He motioned down the dark road toward a hotel with a
hanging sign of a train on it. The Railway Inn. It was too large to be a travellers’
inn, but with its simple Tudor cottage look, it was not so grand as the hotels
in London.

No one questioned Ash when
he declared them husband and wife at the reception desk. And why would they?
But anxiety and, she had to admit, a little excitement at behaving so
scandalously swirled in her stomach.

Lila glanced his way as they
were led to their room and saw he was pinching his brow again. His skin had taken
on a slightly ashen tone too. Had the journey tired him? She didn’t think it
was possible that he could be fatigued, not with his strong build. Nothing
could bring this man down, surely?

Goddamn his weak body. Ash could hardly believe another
headache was encroaching. Was it not enough he’d been laid low by one whilst
his brother was near on his death bed?

He swung a look at Lila
while she twined her hands together and peered about the room. Perhaps he
should have booked them separate rooms and then he could have slept off the
headache without any worry, but he wasn’t going to leave her alone. Those
damned instincts of his were pulling at his gut.

“You must be tired.”

“I am.”

“Why do you not rest?” He
motioned to the bed.

“I-I suppose...”

She climbed awkwardly onto
the bed, lay as stiff as a plank and laced her fingers together across her
abdomen.

“I will not let you come to
harm,” he vowed what had to be the hundredth time aloud. In his head, it had
been thousands. He would not fail this woman, no matter how low his body
brought him.

“I know.”

“So close your eyes and
rest.” And once she was sleeping, he’d lounge back on the slightly worn
armchair in the corner of the cosy room and hopefully sleep off this blasted
headache.

And she would be none the
wiser.

“I’m not sure I can.” She
looked up at the ceiling and sighed. “Will you come lie with me?”

Ash stiffened. His body
begged for the comforting softness of a bed, but he wasn’t sure there would be
anything comforting about lying next to Lila.

“Please?”

Damn it, how could he say
no? “Of course.”

After all, they were fully clothed,
his head was spinning with a headache, and he had sworn she’d be safe. That
meant from him too. Aware of his tender head, he eased himself onto the bed and
mimicked her pose. She didn’t curl into him, but he felt her body relax. He
closed his eyes, grateful for the darkness behind his eyelids.

“Ash.”

Something jostled him arm.
He winced, his head pounding in response to the movement.

“Ash, wake up.”

He dragged open his eyes to
find a cloud of golden hair highlighted by soft lamp light. Features slowly
came into focus.

“What is it?” he grumbled.

“It is late. You’ve been
asleep for some time.”

“So go back to sleep.”

He hated that he sounded
snappish, but he’d reached the point of his illness where his body refused to
do anything but lie with heavy, weighted limbs and his head felt as though it
was made of glass and would shatter at any moment.

“I’m hungry.”

He huffed. “So ask for some
food to be sent up.”

“On my own? I thought that
would be dangerous.”

Ash paused. It would be. But
at present he was not sure how he would be able to put one foot in front of the
other. “Just get some rest, Lila. Worry about food in the morning.” He closed
his eyes again in the hopes of ending the subject.

“Rest? Is that your answer
to everything? Perhaps I should just sleep through every great event as you do?
When the killer comes for me, all shall be well because I’ll sleep through the
whole thing anyway!”

He bit back a groan. “Fine.”

Rolling, he swung his legs
over the edge of the bed and forced himself up. He wavered and nearly toppled
back. Lila’s hands came to the back of his arm.

“Ash?”

“I’m going to get your damn
food,” he snapped. His stomach rolled in protest of the movement when he tried
to take a step forward.

Lila released his arm and
scurried around in front of him. She peered up at him, scowling. “Something’s
wrong.”

“Yes, a killer is after you,
you are hungry, and I am tired. Plenty is wrong.”

“No.” She flattened a palm
against his chest and that tiny pressure from her slender hand was enough to
press him back down onto the bed as his knees gave way.

An unbidden groan of pain
escaped him as his head responded to the movement. Lila cupped his face and
lifted it toward her. “You are unwell?”

Ash shook his head and
pinched the bridge of his nose before lying back and slinging an arm over his
face. If he told her of his affliction there would be no way she would trust
him to look after her. He was so weak, damn it.

“Ash?” Her hand was upon his
arm, small and sweet. If he focused on that tiny touch, he could almost summon
the pain away. “Will you tell me what is wrong?”

What could he say? “I’m
merely tired, Lila.”

“I don’t believe you.”

She would be the first.
Everyone else was happy enough to conclude that Ash Cynfell was simply too
slothful to rise from his bed until late in the day. That he’d rather laze
around than attend events and be a scoundrel like his brothers.

“I like to sleep, is that so
bad?”

She eased his arm from his face,
and he couldn’t help opening his eyes and gazing up at her. Did she have to be
so beautiful? He longed for the darkness behind his eyelids and yet his mind desired
to feast upon the image of her. To take in that delicate pout, slightly
upturned nose, and smooth, lovely skin. Her gaze searched his.

“What is wrong?”

He had no choice. Her green
eyes drew him in and wouldn’t release him. She had him hooked and was reeling
him in. Ash had long suspected she’d hooked him from the very first moment he’d
seen her.

“A headache,” he muttered.

“This seems like more than a
mere headache.”

Oh it was. These headaches
burrowed down into his bones and brought him lower than a man should ever go.
He became weak and feeble. Useless.

God, how he loathed himself
for it.

“Ash...” She leaned into
him. So close, so soft, so perfect. He longed to kiss her. “What is wrong? Tell
me?”

He twisted from her before
he gave into temptation. “Nothing, damn it, just a headache. Can’t you bloody
well leave me alone?”

Lila’s body stiffened. He
felt her withdraw from him. Bloody hell. His insides shrivelled a little. He
hadn’t meant to snap. He rolled and found her staring up at the ceiling again.
She flinched when he touched her arm and stroked his fingers up and down it in
a placating movement.

“Forgive me, it’s just...”

“Just?” She turned demanding
eyes upon him.

He swallowed. “These
headaches...” Drawing in a breath, he found her fingers entwining with his, and
he clasped them like a lifeline. “These headaches...they make me weak. I lose
my sight, and I’m often sick with them.” He turned his head away and closed his
eyes.

Silence carried through the
air. His heartbeat pounded restlessly through his aching head. She would
declare him unfit to take care of her at any moment. He would be nothing but a
weak fool in her eyes.

“These happen a lot?”

“Yes.”

“Have you seen a doctor?”

He twisted to face her and
opened his eyes. “Yes. There is not a lot that can be done. I simply have to
live with it.”

Lila shook her head slowly
and slid down next to him. She curled her body into his. A hand slipped up and
began to brush his forehead. He scowled.

“Why did you not say?”

The soft touch of her
fingertips worked like magic on the tense muscles in his forehead. The pain
would remain, but he found himself focusing on her touch rather than the deep
throb in his skull.

“Cynfell men should never be
weak,” he intoned.

“This is not weakness. You
are ill,” she said softly.

“You are spectacular.”

The words had slipped from
him. The headache had made his tongue loose. But they were true. If he wasn’t
hindered by the pain in his skull, he feared it would not be his tongue that
was the issue. With her curled close, he had a fine view of the rise of her
breasts. He was aware of the warmth of her body and the scent of her. Lila’s
skin would be soft and smooth. It would feel perfect under his fingertips.

She stared up at him. He
couldn’t help himself. Ash touched her cheek.

“So soft,” he murmured.

“Ash.”

It was a plea. It had to be.
Deep in his gut, he knew it. Just as he’d known from the beginning she’d be the
undoing of him.

He moved in, touched his
mouth to hers. A groan rumbled up from inside him. So. Damn. Soft. He hungered
to push deeper at the same time as savour every sweet little moment. Lila’s
lips were full, delicious...she had the kind of mouth that was made for long,
lingering kisses.

Ash curved his fingers
gently around her neck and kissed again, this time slanting his mouth across
hers. The angle told him everything he’d suspected. She fit perfectly with him.
It was lunacy, but he loved this woman.

And that knowledge gnawed at
his gut while he slid his lips over hers and tasted the corner of her mouth.
She inhaled and released it as a tiny satisfied sigh.

Somehow, he found the
restraint to move back. The pounding in his head had been forgotten and
replaced with a great ache in his cock. She stared up at him with those wide
eyes, a picture of innocence. He longed to kiss her hard, make her lips red and
puffy, her skin damp, her body writhe with pleasure. He longed to make her his.

He wouldn’t. He couldn’t.

Rolling away, he put his
hands across his chest and stared at the ceiling.

For a few moments, they lay
apart. Perhaps he’d scared her, but he didn’t believe so. She’d wanted his
kiss. But a kiss would be all it could be. What else could he offer a woman
like Lila? A life of waiting around for his headaches to clear? A life confined
to one place in case they struck? She deserved so much more.

She deserved the world.

And he would never be the
man to give it to her. His childhood dreams had been destroyed. There was no
chance he’d inflict the same thing on her.

Lila twisted, and the bed
creaked slightly. Her fingers came to his face—tentatively at first, then with
greater boldness when he did not flinch. They came back to his hair, sifting,
massaging. He closed his eyes and relished each touch while his stomach burned
with regret and...and love. He couldn’t help himself. This deep, warm sensation
could be nothing but.

“Does Harris know of your
affliction?” she asked softly.

“No, and I should like to
keep it that way.”

“He loves you, I am sure it
will not change anything.”

“Lila...” he warned.

She let out a breath. “Forgive
me, we shall speak more on this later.”

Damn, he should not have
been short with her. Ash tried to say that there would be no more talking of
this matter ever again, but somehow he had his doubts that would be the case.
Lila Radley could likely force him to have conversations about the merits of
ribbons or French fashions. Anything to keep her happy.

She said no more and
continued to rub her fingers across his forehead. He felt her shift against him
and then her fingers moved into his hair, massaging and working at his scalp.

“Does that help?”

“Yes.”

There was no curing his
headache, but the movement of her fingers really did ease the agony, making it
more bearable.

At some point, the magic she
weaved sent him off to sleep. When he awoke next, the room was dark, and he had
to take several moments to gain his bearings. Soft breaths brushed his neck and
a gentle hand remained curved about his cheek. This ache in his head had eased
drastically, though his mouth was dry and his body still heavy.

He shifted a little to view
her. Enough light from the street filtered in through the gaps in the curtains
to skim across her cheek and highlight her figure. Lashes against her cheeks,
lips slightly parted, she made his heart spasm.

Her lashes fluttered, and
she gazed up at him. “Ash?” her voice was husky from sleep. It wrapped around
his insides and pulled them tight. “Is it late?”

“I—”

Words failed him. He wasn’t
sure of anything, not when she was curled up next him so perfect and wonderful.
Ash couldn’t blame the headache for the way his body heated and felt weak at
the same time. She sapped him, yet made him feel he could take on the world for
her.

Hell, she was too beautiful.
Her breasts were pressed against his body, and he glanced down to see them
threatening to escape her bodice. However, it was her eyes that were the
undoing of him. When he looked back up, they snared him.
Take me
, they
said.
Make me yours
.

Of course these were foolish
thoughts. Her eyes said nothing of the sort. How could they? Lila could have no
real idea of the desires of men, and he doubted she had any idea that he wanted
her for anything other than a kiss.

Or that he loved her.

He’d always been certain of
things in his life. Certain he would one day travel the world, seek adventure,
and be written about in books perhaps as some great hero. The headaches struck,
and he grew certain his life would not be like his dreams. He was positive a
Cynfell man could not suffer such an affliction publically.