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?
Chapter Nine
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 ar
m 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.
And he was confident he loved Lila and perhaps always would. He never did things lightly. While his brother loved easily, he did not. He strongly suspected he would go to the grave still loving Lila Radley.
She took a breath, and her breasts rose against his arm. Through his shirt, he felt the warmth of them. He gritted his teeth and eyed the ceiling while trying to think of something dull. Chess. He hated chess. Or one of his least favourite sermons read by the vicar at Lockwood. The man really did have the most droning voice. But apparently breasts were the topic of the day and nothing worked. Damnation, he’d even have his headache back if it could stop him thinking of her body.
“How do you feel?”
Like I’m dying, he wanted to croak. Dying of need. And yet more alive than ever. Each moment with Lila had impacted more on his life than anything else he could recall. With her, he could almost forget he was practically bedridden most days.
“Better.”
She moved against him and rose up onto an elbow to study him. Hair mussed, she made the perfect picture of a woman who had just been bedded. He couldn’t help but reach out to finger a slightly frizzy curl.
“I am glad.” Her gaze searched his, then dropped to his lips.
>
“Stop it,” he warned.
“Stop what?”
“Doing that.”
“What?” She did it again and this time parted her own lips slightly.
Damn her and her invitations to kiss.
“I warned you,” he ground out, before latching a hand around the back of her neck and pulling her down on him. Hard.
Their lips met in a crash. She collapsed onto him, all soft curves and delicate body.
“I warned you,” he uttered again, and she made some sound of agreement.
Her fingers threaded into his hair, but they weren’t soothing this time, they were desperate. Tugging, pulling, pleading. Their mouths met again and again.
“Sweet Mary,” she murmured between kisses. “Oh, Ash.”
Christ, even kissing her wouldn’t silence the woman. And he loved that about her. Let her moan his name over and over and beg for more.
He let his hand slip down her back, over the fabric of her gown and down to her rear. Only petticoats got in his way but they were no match for his desperate hold. He gripped her body and held her tight against him. She wriggled, and he let out a harsh curse.
The sharp jolt of desire through his sex brought him back. Ash broke the kiss. But he couldn’t bring himself to move her. Their gazes remained locked for many heartbeats—hard, powerful ones that reminded him of the need sizzling through his veins. How was he meant to protect her when all he could think of was drawing up those skirts and tasting her skin? Of driving into her and telling her of his love?
He puffed out a harsh breath and cupped her cheek. “Get some rest, Lila. We’ve had a long day.”
Disappointment flittered across her expression. He half-expected her to flounce away from him but instead she returned the touch, brushing a finger over his jaw, then his lips with regret twisting her mouth. It ate bitterly into his gut. He wanted to see her smiling.
“Ash...” she started.
He eased her off. He was too weak where she was concerned already. Who knew what he’d do if she said anything other than agreeing to sleep? From the softness in her eyes, he found himself terrified of what it could be. If she said even the simplest of kind words, he’d be utterly lost.
“Sleep well, Lila,” he muttered before rolling onto his side, thoroughly aware sleep was going to be elusive for the rest of the night.
The Cynfell Brothers Page 49
