He stomped downstairs and was about to disturb Anna once more until a familiar laugh reached his ears. He took the double doors through to the gambling hall and stopped to peer around. The tables were busy for a week night. Men lined the bar, drinking to excess no doubt, and the rattle of chips and the flick of cards rang in his ears. Every now and then, the low murmur of male voices was broken by that laugh.
Lila’s laugh.
He searched the crowd until his gaze landed upon her. She was playing craps. And worse, she was surrounded by men. He could tell they were all enamoured with her and who could blame them. Decked in a sumptuous deep purple gown, she shone like a star. No one could possibly keep their eyes off her. Perhaps he’d been wrong about pastel colours.
Aware he’d wasted too long gawping at her, he strode over and grabbed her arm. Lila let out a gasp, and her eyes rounded when she faced him. For a brief moment, she beamed at him. And then he saw the annoyance darken her eyes.
“Whatever are you doing?”
“You should not be here.”
“It’s perfectly safe,” she hissed. “Anna would never let strangers in here.”
“Firstly Newton is no fool, he could sneak in easily enough, and secondly, have you not seen how these men are looking at you?” He leaned close to say the last part in her ear. “You are in grave danger, let me assure you of that.”
Her mouth worked, but she didn’t say anything. He tried to tug on her arm, but she yanked it from him and offered the gentlemen her apologies before striding ahead of him. Ash raced to catch up, finding that the men present were far more eager to move aside for a beautiful woman than himself.
By the time he’d caught up with her, she’d burst outside and was striding across the grass toward a line of oak trees. Dusk had fallen and the moon had begun to give off a ghostly glow. She appeared almost ethereal, like an angel or maybe a ghost. Either way, she was far out of his reach—from another world.
“Lila,” he called.
Her shoulders dropped, and he heard her huff.
“Lila.”
He touched her shoulder gently, aware he shouldn’t be admiring the way her hair was coiled high in beautiful ringlets and how he longed to unpick every pin and watch them spill about her shoulders. Now was not the time to be imagining her golden hair against her skin. Nor was it the time to be wondering what her neck would taste like.
Sweet, like her, perhaps.
When she turned, there was no sweetness. Her eyes were filled with annoyance.
Spicy, then. He smirked. Or maybe a little bitter at present.
“I have been trapped in my room for days. There was no need for you to embarrass me so.”
“Embarrass you? In front of those men? Highly unlikely.” He took a step closer, and she folded her arms. “You were gambling with the worst rogues in England, Lila. They could tell tales that would shock even the hardiest of women. I doubt they cared much about me speaking with you.”
“Speaking? Is that what it was? Because it sounded very much like you were scolding me, Ash, and I won’t have it.” She even did a tiny foot stomp. He wouldn’t tell her he found it adorable. “I won’t have it,” she repeated.
“Forgive me, I did not mean to speak to you so. But you should not be spending time with those men or gambling.”
“I suppose because you believe it’s not ladylike.” She lifted her chin, daring him to say as much.
He could be a fool a lot of the time, but he was not that foolish. “I cannot say I’m all that bothered by whether your behaviour was ladylike or not, but I do care if you are safe.”
“Why, Ash?” Lila sighed. “Why do you care so much? I know you blame yourself for this, but to go through all this, to drag me away from my family and even risk their wrath? Why?”
He tightened his jaw and stared into those emerald eyes. They sparkled in the moonlight, much like they did all the time. Even in anger, her eyes were animated, excitable. Entirely the opposite of him and his slothful behaviour. He could never claim to be excited by life.
But she excited him.
“I won’t see you harmed,” he said tightly.
Disappointment shuttered her gaze. But why did she care what he thought of her? After all, he could not very well admit that she had plagued him since the moment he had set eyes on her. That she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever laid eyes on from that first moment. That, deep down, he’d known in his bones there was something magical about her, that he would happily die for a stranger. It was all too strange. If he told her that, she’d likely be terrified and run away. Then he would not be able to protect her.
“I suppose I am a mere duty.”
“No,” he said softly, not really even intending to release the word.
Her lashes fluttered in surprise. “What am I then?”
Ash contemplated her for several moments, his jaw clenched so tight it hurt. “Too beautiful,” he told her. “Too lovely. Too amazing.” Bloody hell. He hadn’t meant to say that either. “Every man in there is enraptured with you, and I don’t like it.”
She stared at him, her gaze searching his. “You’re jealous.”
Fingers curled into his palm until they hurt. He nodded.
Lila inched closer. He was aware of everything. Of the way her breaths misted slightly in the air. Of how they sounded in his ears. He could hear the swish of silk, the pound of his heart. See the smoothness of her skin and the sparkle in her eyes. Sense the warmth of her body.
“You have no need to be. I am not interested in any of those men.”
Ash uncurled his fingers and lifted his hand, palm open. He wondered if he’d intended to push her away, but instead he put his hand to her bare arm and moved closer. Only the faintest whisper of air separated him as she tilted her head to gaze up at him.
“I find myself interested in you,” she said so quietly it took him a few heartbeats to absorb the words.
Words that rioted through him. Words that rocked him to the core. This bold, wonderful woman was interested in him. Was it possible that while he had been fantasising about her, she had been doing the same? But why? He had done nothing but be grumpy and angry with her. He bitterly regretted he hadn’t treated her as she deserved—like a princess. No, a goddess.
“Are you...” He found his mouth was dry. He coughed. “Do you...?” The words refused to come.
A tiny smile graced her lips. “I want to kiss you.”
One could have knocked him over with a feather. It was exactly what he was trying to voice. How did she know that? But she wanted to kiss him. Not receive his kiss. Not be kissed. Lila Radley wanted to kiss him, of all people. And he wanted to let her. More than anything.
He nodded stiffly. How could he find the words to tell her how much he wanted that? She would surely think him crazed if he continued to spout his stilted words of how he had wanted her kiss from the first moment he saw her. Ash’s pulse began to quicken. He slipped his other hand around her waist and pressed it lightly to her back. He hoped it was enough encouragement.
Lila lifted up slightly and tilted her head. “I have not kissed many men,” she whispered.
He would rather she had not kissed any at all, but he would not say as much. Ash wouldn’t ruin this moment for the world. Instead, he remained quiet and drew in the scent of her and the feel of her breath on his jaw.
Soft lips brushed his. His eyes remained open, as did hers. Heat rose within him but there was more than that. The brief brush of her lips summoned something else. Some emotional response. He didn’t know whether to flee or stay and fight.
But, at the end of the day, Ash knew he’d fight for this woman. Not to keep her for himself, but to keep her alive, happy, safe. The likelihood was he wasn’t the man to keep her happy, but he could keep her safe and alive.
However, that did not matter at present. Not when she was looping her hands around his neck and closing her eyes. He took a moment to savour the image of her lashes across her cheeks, the look
of pure innocence, before deepening the kiss. He pressed harder, and she gasped. The warmth of alcohol registered. She’d been drinking—the reason for her boldness, probably.
It was like a punch to the gut. She didn’t really want to kiss him. Here he was spouting what was far too close to poetic words in his mind, and she was likely a little addled from drink.
“Lila,” he murmured against her lips as she held him tight.
“Shhh, you’re spoiling it.”
Hell, he did not wish to spoil it. He wished to kiss her forever and ever. From the moment he laid eyes on her, he’d wanted to. Lila Radley knocked the sense from him from the very beginning. He couldn’t let go.
With a light growl, he clamped her tight against him. Her mouth opened in another gasp, and he used the chance to dart his tongue in. A tiny sound of surprise escaped her, and he relished it. He tasted her again and this time her tongue met his. She drew back to suck in a breath.
“I like that.”
“Shhh, you’re spoiling it,” he mocked.
Lila narrowed her gaze at him then laughed. Then she kissed him again. Dear God, he was a fool. But this fool was kissing Lila Radley, and he wouldn’t break away for the world. Not even the skies falling on top of him could stop him from--
“Ash,” Harris called.
“Shit.” The word came out unbidden as Lila broke away from him.
Her eyes widened at his coarse language. He went to apologise, but his brother called his name again. With a huff of annoyance, he released Lila and turned to see his brother striding toward them.
A crack split the air. It happened slowly and yet too fast. Harris seemed to stumble, then trip. He had hit the floor by the time another shot whooshed through the air. When something hit a tree not far behind them reality registered.
Ash snatched Lila and yanked her down to the ground. She gave a squeal as he crushed her beneath him. She didn’t wriggle, instead she seemed frozen in fear. He couldn’t claim to feel much different.
Their hearts pounded together, and he drew in a ragged breath as he risked lifting his head to see his brother. Pain seared him, very real and disturbing, down his leg. Bile burnt the back of his throat.
Harris remained still on the ground. He’d been shot. It was too dark to see blood or injury, but Ash knew it as sure as they were brothers.
“Stay here,” he told Lila after a few moments of silence.
Had the shooter gone? Or was he intending to sneak up closer? Whatever the shooter had planned, Ash was not willing to wait around and let him do it.
“No,” she squeaked, grabbing his arm.
“Harris is hurt.”
She glanced at his brother’s body, seeming to now fully comprehend what had happened. “Oh Lord.”
“Stay low, don’t move. Nothing will happen to you, I swear.”
The grass would provide cover and the shooter would have to be the best marksman in the world to get to them with a damned rifle. She’d be safe for the moment.
He crawled on his belly to his brother, the pain in his leg growing in intensity. He had to take a moment to check he hadn’t been injured himself but no such luck. Goddamn it. This was his fault again. People used to say their eldest brother had the curse of death, but he was beginning to wonder if it was not him.
“Harris,” he hissed, coming close to his brother’s side. “Harris,” he tried again, lifting up just enough to view his brother’s face.
“Bugger me that hurts.” Harris tried to push up to sitting, but Ash pressed him back down. His brother let loose a string of curses.
“Stay still, you damned fool. There’s a shooter out there.”
“Don’t I know it.”
“Where are you hurt?”
“My leg.”
Ash released a lungful of air. A leg wound. Not pleasant, still potentially lethal, but his brother was alive yet and the Cynfells were a hardy bunch.
“Thank God.”
“You might be thanking God, but I’m not. It damned well hurts.”
Harris lifted his head and glanced around only for someone to touch his shoulder. He nearly leapt to his feet and tackled the person only to realise it was Lila.
“I said stay where you were,” he ground out.
“I think they’ve gone,” she said.
“You don’t know that.”
“I’m safer with you.” She wriggled closer to Harris. “Oh, Harris, are you hurt? Will he be well?”
“I’m better for having you here,” Harris told her as she gripped his hand.
Damn his brother, flirting on his deathbed. Ash tugged apart his necktie and felt for the wound on his brother’s leg. The dull silvery light offered enough for him to view the blood flourishing across his trousers and the neat hole in them. The pain in his own leg gave some indication as to where the wound was. He looped the tie around the top of his brother’s thigh and pulled it tight. Harris let out a muffled yowl, and Lila cried out. He feared Harris had just crushed her hand. He was in more pain than he’d like to admit.
“We need to get you back to the house.”
“Look.” Lila pointed in the direction of the house.
Over a dozen figures began to scour the grounds. Holding lit lamps, they had clearly heard the gunshots and were searching for the shooter. He prayed it was enough to scare him away. When no shots rang out as the people dispersed, Ash called out.
“Over here.”
Anna hurried over, lamp held aloft, followed by two of the heavyset men she hired to keep the peace at Stourbridge.
“Oh God,” she said when she spotted Harris. She looked to Ash. “Is he harmed?”
“I’d bloody say so,” Harris said through clenched teeth.
“In the leg,” Ash said, aware his voice was harsh and strained. “Your men should be careful. There’s a madman with a rifle out there somewhere.”
“My men are armed. If he is still on my land, they’ll find him,” she assured him. “We need to get your brother inside.” Anna turned to one of the men. “Take him to his room and have the doctor sent for. With haste.”
Between them, the two men had no problems lifting Harris, though the pain in Ash’s leg throbbed in response to his brother’s groans of pain. He helped Lila up, and she wrapped her arms about his waist. He didn’t know if she was doing it because she was scared or because he needed the support, but either way, he relished the sweet warmth of her body next to his and wrapped an arm about her shoulders. They followed the men back to the house, and Ash started his vigil by Harris’ bedside until the doctor arrived. The man sent them out until he’d finished.
Ash paced in the corridor and pinched the bridge of his nose. The pain in his leg began to subside but a new pain started up—in his head. He knew well enough what that meant. Bloody hell, a headache, now? The timing could not be worse. He needed to be lucid and ready to aid his brother at any time, not laid low by a headache of all things.
Lila held his hand while Anna swung looks their way. Damn, as if Anna didn’t have enough to deal with. Every move he made was one of error recently and now his brother was paying for it.
“He will be fine,” Lila assured, squeezing his hand.
He could not help be touched by her selflessness. She must have been terrified. Perhaps it had even brought back memories of the attack. And yet her thoughts were only of him and his brother. It simply reminded him he did not deserve a woman like this. Kissing her had been a mistake.
One he would dearly love to repeat over and over and over. But he would not. He had to have some kind of control over himself.
The doctor emerged from his room, and they all rushed forward. “Well?” Anna and Lila demanded.
The man gave small sound of annoyance. “His leg should be fine. I’ve removed the bullet and as long as no infection arises, it will heal. He shall need plenty of rest but the chances are he might have a limp.”
Ash grimaced. If his brother limped for the rest of his life, he’d never forgive himself
.
“If he becomes hot or restless, send for me,” the doctor continued.
Ash turned away to try to absorb the information. If infection did strike, his brother could lose his leg. Worse, he could lose his life. As much as Harris failed to understand him sometimes, he couldn’t imagine life without his twin. They’d been born together, grown up together. All his childhood memories, and too many of his adult ones really, involved Harris. His chest grew tight and the pounding in his head worsened. His vision began to shimmer, and he cursed under his breath.
Lila wrapped a hand around his arm and coaxed him to face her. He could hardly make out her features past the crescent of blurriness crossing his eyes.
“He will be well, I just know it.”
He shook his head. Here was a woman who had survived two murder attempts and still managed to stay positive. He could not manage the same, particularly not with the pounding pain in his head. For Lila, he had to stay strong. For Harris too.
“Ash, you look pale,” she commented.
“I am fine,” he snapped. “Tell my brother...Never mind. I’m going to my room.” He stormed off.
How could he bear the two women looking at him with such sympathy? Throwing open the door, he kicked it shut and flung himself on the bed as his vision faded to a mess of movement that made him feel sick. He twisted and reached for the chamber pot before his stomach gave way, and he retched until it was empty. How could he have them see him so weak when he was meant to be a strong, protective man?
He closed his eyes and hoped his brother would understand why he wasn’t by his bedside. As soon as the headache was gone, he would be back by his side. The strain must have brought it on.
He threw an arm over his eyes and felt the lethargy that always came with his headaches creep over him. So often, moments of stress seemed to make him ill. What sort of a man could not deal with the stress of life? He hated his body for being so weak sometimes. Hated himself for letting them bring him so low.
Ash didn’t wish to sleep. He wanted to be at his brother’s side. But the thickness in his head meant he could hardly move. His muscles were heavy as though someone had tied weights to them, and if he tried to move his head, the world spun and his stomach lurched. Better to stay hidden away than let anyone see him like this, even his brother.
The Cynfell Brothers Page 47
