by Evie North
TWO DAYS OF TEMPTATION
Brothers Mortmain Book 2
Evie North
Copyright © 2019 by Evie North
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Created with Vellum
Contents
Introduction
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Also by Evie North
Also Available by Evie North
Also by Evie North
About the Author
Introduction
Who’s to say who is blind...and who sees clearly?
As Hannah approaches the imposing gates of Youlden Manor, she keeps reminding herself of why she is about to give her body to the master of the house. Two years ago, Lord Sebastian Youlden wronged her and their unborn child, and she cannot resume her life until she wreaks revenge.
When Sebastian awoke weeks after a duel that stole his sight, he discovered he’d lost something else—the woman he loved. Grief-stricken, he retreated to his isolated estate, where he occasionally sends for women from the local inn to temporarily assuage his loneliness. Yet there is something strangely compelling about the latest lady of the night who comes to pleasure him.
The first time they come together, Hannah’s icy resolve begins to melt in the heat of his bed. As passion begins to burn away the veil of secrecy between them—and gradually lift the blindness from Sebastian’s eyes—the only thing left standing between them and a love that never died is the naked, painful truth.
1
1806 Yorkshire England
Hannah lifted the hem of her skirts away from the puddle by the back door. The air was chill from the rainstorm and up here on Youlden Moor there was little to stop the weather from its constant assault on visitors to the manor house.
It was even bleaker than she’d expected. For a moment her heart quaked—what was she doing?—but she hardened it.
This was not the time to waver. She had come all this way and she was not about to bow out now. Revenge was at hand, she told herself. She could almost taste it. The narrow blade of the knife tucked inside her sleeve comforted her.
“Master is in one of his black moods,” said Prentiss, the old man who had found her in the village inn. He gave her a warning look. “So you speak only when spoken to, girly.” A suspicious frown creased his forehead. “Where you from? You don’t sound as if you’re from ‘round here.”
Hannah stared back as her tired mind searched for the right words. She didn’t want him to ask too many questions. What would someone in her position say? “When will I be paid?” seemed the likely option.
“In the morning when the master is finished with you.”
Hannah nodded as if satisfied. Curiosity prompted her to ask, “Does he ever have anyone stay longer?”
The old man snorted. “There’ve been times when he’s sent for me to take the doxy away after barely an hour. Don’t get your hopes up, girly. It’s not as if he’ll make you the new Lady Youlden.”
Hannah said nothing. A quiver of anger went through her. Once she had envisaged such a future, although those thoughts had long since turned to dust. She must not allow herself to be distracted by lost dreams—she had come here for revenge.
The passageway from the back door was dark and smelled of damp. There was a glow of lamplight at the very end of it. As she followed Prentiss, Hannah reminded herself tonight was the fulfilment of a promise she had made to herself six weeks ago, although the seeds had been sown long before that. Tonight would be all the sweeter because Sebastian would not know he’d been fooled. She’d wait until the right moment and then say the words she’d held on to for so long. Even now they waited, hot and bitter in her mouth, almost as if they could choke her. Hannah knew that if she was ever to regain some peace in her life, she needed to release them.
They’d reached the table with the lamp upon it. To one side was a doorway that looked shadowy and unwelcoming. Somewhere deeper in the manor house Hannah could smell food cooking. Her stomach rumbled loudly. She had hardly eaten at the inn and seemed to have been hungry ever since she left London.
Prentiss was at the door of the room. “Master?” The old servant sounded tentative, a quality at odds with his gruff manner.
“I’m here, Prentiss.”
That voice! The sound of it caught at her heart like claws and she tried not to gasp with pain. She must have made some sound however because Prentiss gave her a curious glance.
He spoke again. “Do you have her?”
“I have the female, sir.” The old man nodded Hannah toward the open doorway, clearing intending for her to go inside.
Hannah hesitated. She felt dizzy, torn between her desire for revenge and a new and terrible fear that she may not have the strength to carry it out. But Prentiss reached for her arm, his fingers like a manacle around her flesh. He leaned close, his breath sour in her ear, and whispered what he did not want his master to hear.
“Keep your feelings to yourself, girly. He may be blind but he knows things. I don’t care if you find him repulsive, you’d do well to hide it behind a smile if you know what’s good for you.”
Repulsive? What did that mean?
Hannah tried to pull away but Prentiss would not let her go until she made some sign she understood him. She gave a stiff nod and the next moment he pushed her into the room. She stumbled, finding it difficult to see—the only light came from the low fire burning in the hearth. She could make out the shape of a large man seated in an armchair before the fireplace. He was leaning forward, his fair head bowed, hands clasped between his knees. There was something in his stillness that struck her as strange, and then he lifted his head. Even in the poor light there was a familiarity about his movement that sent her memories catapulting back.
She shook away the thoughts. This was not the time.
“Prentiss, bring her to me.” He spoke again, and now the deep timbre of his voice was like a rough caress.
Hannah swallowed, trying to calm herself, to smooth the jagged nerves that threatened to undo her. She would not remember the affection that same voice could carry as he once held her in his arms. She would not. She must not give the past the power to steal her resolve away from her.
Back straight, legs stiff, she ignored the servant hovering behind her and walked across the room to the man in the chair. It was only when she reached him that she realised he wore a blindfold about his eyes.
She’d known he was blind. She’d heard the rumours long after he left her, stories about an accident and a woman, though no one seemed to know the details. Then at the inn she had listened to the gossip about his condition. But knowing and knowing were two different things. She remembered Prentiss’s warning. Was he hideously scared?
“Woman?” He sounded impatient now. “Place your hand upon my shoulder.”
Hannah’s hand shook as she rested it upon his shoulder. He reached up so fast she had no chance to step back. His fingers closed firmly upon hers. He was strong and she could not have freed herself if she’d wanted to.
“Ah.” His face turned to her and the firelight flickered across it. The fe
atures below the smooth black blindfold were achingly recognizable. Again her heart felt as if it had been shredded. No, anger, she screamed inside her head. Fury. Rage. These were the emotions she felt for him. These were the feelings he deserved from her! Certainly not pity, and never compassion.
“What is your name, sweeting?”
That deep and slightly hoarse voice. The same one he’d used as he held her in his arms, making the promises he would break so effortlessly later. The memories of her suffering strengthened her and settled her nerves. It would be over soon, she told herself. Soon she would be gone and she would never have to think of him again.
“My name is Janet.” She said it in a whisper to disguise her voice. Not that it was likely he would remember. Why should he? She was but a distant memory, lost among so many other women he had used and betrayed.
He gave a shiver, as if he was cold despite the fire. Perhaps, as Prentiss said, he could divine her thoughts? She must be careful not to give herself away, not until she was ready. He must suffer, oh yes. It was the one thing, the only thing, that had got her this far. And before she was finished he would beg her forgiveness.
“Janet.” He repeated the false name. “Then, Janet, will you stay with me tonight and comfort me?”
Janet forced her stiff lips into a smile, so he would hear it in her voice. “I will, my lord.”
He tipped his head to the side and then he nodded. “It is a bargain then, Janet. Go with Prentiss now. I will see you anon.”
“Go?” Confused, she looked to Prentiss—the old man was beckoning her to him. She trailed after him out of the room, but she couldn’t help glancing back when she reached the doorway.
Lord Youlden was still seated before the fire, and if she hadn’t seen the blindfold for herself and known him to be blind, then she might have thought he was contemplating the flames. What was he thinking? Dreaming of past glories? Or regretting that cold and frosty dawn when he walked away from her, never to return?
“The master likes his girls clean.” Prentiss’s bluntness claimed her attention. Hannah gave him a haughty stare. “I am clean. I told you. I bathed.” Prentiss snorted. “Not that sort of clean, girly.”
Her hand went to the knife inside her sleeve. Perhaps he would not ask her to strip completely. If he did then she must find a way to hide her weapon. Prentiss led her into a small room that was furnished with chairs and a sofa that had seen better days. A large woman was waiting on the sofa, her face round and plump beneath a mop of dark hair.
“This her?” She heaved herself awkwardly to her feet.
Hannah tried to back away but Prentiss was behind her and there was nowhere to go. She considered telling them she’d changed her mind and fleeing into the night. But she couldn’t do that. Not after all her searching and planning. Not when she was so close.
“Master’s waiting, Trudy,” Prentiss muttered.
“Leave me to it then,” Trudy said, flapping her hands at him. “The sooner you go, the sooner I’ll be done.”
The old man shuffled out and Trudy eyed Hannah up and down. “Right then. Lie down on your back. I’m sure this isn’t the first time you’ve done that.”
The examination that followed was unpleasant but not painful, and the woman was quick and efficient. Hannah stared at the ceiling and pretended she was somewhere else, somewhere in the distant past.
As a child she had rarely known a day’s unhappiness. She wasn’t her mother’s favourite— her brother Desmond had that honour—but until her father died it always seemed to be sunny and she always remembered smiling. After her father died it hadn’t been so sunny, perhaps, but still she did not remember being particularly unhappy. She loved her brother too, so she did not begrudge him their mother’s partiality. No, all had been well until she met Sebastian, Lord Youlden, eldest son of the Earl of Mortmain.
“Clean as a whistle.” The woman pulled Hannah’s skirts back down. She called for the old man. “You can take her in to Master now.”
Prentiss opened the door. “What about her clothing? Bit dowdy?”
Hannah looked down at herself. Her clothing was clean but plain, and she had sewn the dress herself. It had seen better days, yes, but what would that matter to a blind man?
The woman seemed to think the same because she dismissed Prentiss’s comment with a snort of laughter.
“What’s it matter what she looks like? Is he still asking for a girl with dark hair and eyes?” Her gaze swept over Hannah. “At least you managed to get that right this time. Last one you brought was a redhead.”
Prentiss gave a sour smile. “Aye, and when she told him he gave me a right bollocking.”
Hannah hardly heard them. She had straightened her skirts and folded her hands primly before her, before she remembered she was meant to be a woman of loose morals and planted them on her hips instead.
“No pilfering,” Trudy instructed, eying her up and down. “You hear me?” She frowned and glanced over at Prentiss. “She’s not the usual. Where’d you find her?”
“At the inn.”
Trudy turned again to Hannah. “Where are you from?”
Hannah shrugged a shoulder. “‘Ere and there,” she said, remembering to drop her “h”.
“Well, don’t think you’ve found yourself a cozy nest at Youlden Manor,” she warned. “The master never has a woman longer than a night and even that’s rare enough. Usually Prentiss gets called to take her away as soon as he’s had what he wants of her. So if you’re thinking you’ve found a fancy new address then you can think again.”
“I wouldn’t want to live with a blind man,” Hannah said, with a curl of her lip.
Another snort. “Just ’cause he’s blind don’t mean he’s not a man. You’ll see soon enough, I’ll warrant,” she added archly. “Take her through, Prentiss.”
Prentiss stepped away from the door and Hannah had no option but to head back to the room with the fire and Lord Youlden.
This was her moment. She felt full to bursting with all the emotions she’d been carrying with her the past two years. She was about to take the revenge she’d dreamed of, and nothing was going to stop her.
2
Sebastian, deep in his thoughts, could hear the rise and fall of voices drifting from the other room. Would this woman be like the last one? Greedy, coarse and sly? He’d once decided that he wouldn’t send for another, that he would become a monk. But his body was still that of a young man and he’d found that holding a woman in his arms gave him some measure of relief from his isolated life.
Memories and regrets. They were his companions these days.
And yet this woman, this Janet, had seemed different. Something about the touch of her hand, perhaps, or the scent of her skin. She nudged at thoughts he’d long kept buried.
He shook his head. The past was a country he preferred not to visit, but no matter how he tried he could not seem to resist making the journey over and over again. Particularly when he was at his lowest ebb—that was when the recollections came crowding in.
Not tonight! Tonight he intended to enjoy this woman. He was paying her good coin to spend time with him, and by God he was going to lose himself in the pleasures she could provide.
There was a sound at the door. Sebastian stilled, listening. Another step and he heard the swish of skirts and the soft tap of shoes. No, slippers. How odd. That scent again, sweet and elusive, like... He pushed the memory aside. No more. This was about pleasure, about forgetting himself in the warm arms of a stranger.
“Come,” he commanded.
She paused, but only for a moment. As she drew closer he felt the brush of her skirts against his thigh. He held out his hand and a moment later felt hers rest upon it. He gave a tug and heard her gasp, and then the welcome sensation of her body tumbling into his lap. He slid his arms around her as she struggled. She stiffened in his grip, like a captured creature that would not yield and longs only for escape.
Sebastian was used to easy acquiescence—perha
ps a giggle and a token tussle. Her resistance surprised and intrigued him.
“You are standoffish for a whore,” he said.
Her breath caught, but an instant later she gave the sort of answer he’d come to expect. “Where is my money first?”
Sebastian chuckled. “Money comes later. Prentiss would have told you that. I always pay my debts, Janet.”
“I s’pose I have no choice.” She admitted it grudgingly.
He reached up and found her face. The curve of her chin, her straight neat nose and the hollow of her cheek. Janet wasn’t the plump and rosy type, he thought. This was a half- starved whore.
Of course she was. What woman would come onto the moors to service a blind man unless she was desperate?
The pad of his thumb brushed across her lips. Ah, more flesh here, plump and soft. He bent his head to kiss her but once more she stiffened as if inclined to pull away.
“Kiss me,” he commanded. “Let me see if you’re worth the money I’m paying, Janet.” Still she hesitated. “You can always leave,” he said softly. A warning, “But you will not be paid.” Now he felt her body soften, heard her sigh of submission, and then she pressed against him. Her lips brushed against his like butterfly wings. It wasn’t the sort of kiss he’d expected—far too chaste. And yet...there was something in it that made him want more.
“Again,” he murmured.
This time he felt her lips tremble. Strange that a woman like this, paid for, should tremble. Perhaps she was still new to the trade? Once more it stirred a sensation inside him. A need for tenderness perhaps? He hadn’t felt those gentler emotions in a long while.
