Sinful Liaisons (Cynfell Brothers Book 3)

by Samantha Holt

  She couldn’t be sure. But as a supposedly brave woman who wanted to experience what the world could offer her, she had to find out. She couldn’t live in fear anymore.

  “It’s taking place at the Repton Boxing Club,” Samuel murmured. A smile curved his lips when she met his gaze.

  “I didn’t think you liked him.”

  He lowered the paper. “No son wants to think of his mother doing...taking...” He shook his head. “Anyway, the fact is you have been miserable these past few months. I have to assume that you weren’t when Lord Pierce was around or else you would have kicked him out on his arse. Besides, I saw how you looked at him.” He gave a shudder. “That, I could have done without.”

  Evelyn laughed, struck by how mature he was since his return from Europe. He really did make a wonderful duke. He was already cleverer and wittier than she was.

  “I take it you’re going to this fight. Shall I come with you?”

  She eyed the handsome man who had once been her little boy and shook her head. She wouldn’t mention she didn’t like the idea of him being near the fight. “You probably won’t wish to see the scandal I cause.”

  “Please do not get yourself into trouble, Mother.”

  Standing, she shook her head and bent to kiss his cheek. “It certainly makes a change for you to be worrying about me.”

  “Not at all. I’ve worried about you for many years now. I hope this Pierce chap is worthy of you.”

  “I think he is.”

  Now she had to worry about whether he’d even accept any apology, let alone consider marrying her. “I’ll be back shortly,” she assured Samuel and hastened out into the hallway to bark an order for her jacket, hat, and the carriage.

  By the time she’d fussed with her appearance, the carriage was ready and she had twenty minutes to get to the fight. The awful London traffic meant progress was slow and time sped by all too quickly. He’d be already fighting by the time she arrived. Evelyn tugged at the fingertips of her glove, pulling it off before drawing it back on again while she gnawed on her bottom lip. She peered out of the window at the horses and carriages clogging the road. Damn them all, did they not know she needed to get to Pierce?

  She near flew out of the carriage when it came to a halt in front of the building. Evelyn pushed through the door and gazed around the grand hallway. Stale sweat made Evelyn’s nose wrinkle. Shouting emanated from the room ahead and she winced at the sound. When she pushed through the door, a wall of men’s backs greeted her. Arms were being waved above their head and shouts of encouragement or disgust rang in her ears. Dust filled the air and made it thick. She resisted the need to fan her face.

  Why would Pierce even consider coming to such a place? What was he thinking?

  “Excuse me.” She tried to squeeze between the thickly packed crowd. “Pardon—” Someone trod on her skirt and she had to tug it free. An elbow nearly struck her face. She heard the sound of what had to be fists on flesh. Oh dear God.

  “Pierce,” she shouted in desperation, still far away from where the fight was taking place.

  He likely hadn’t heard her amongst the roar but a few of the crowd did and turned to look at her. She used the opportunity to force her way through. Evelyn spilled out in front of the ropes and paused, horrified. The two men grappled, blood and sweat dripping down their bodies. In only trousers, she could hardly tell who was Pierce until they broke away.

  Her heart threatened to shatter in her chest. One side of his face was bloody and swollen, grime was smeared across his damp chest. Who knew how long the fight had been going on for but he moved sluggishly, as did his opponent.

  “Pierce!” she screamed at him, clinging to the ropes around the pair. “Pierce!”

  When the men broke apart his head snapped briefly in her direction. She saw the stiffening of his body but he had no chance to do anything more. His opponent was on him with a flurry of blows that he blocked then ducked from. Pierce returned with a jab, then several more, successfully striking the man on the jaw.

  Evelyn couldn’t help cry out. What world had she stepped into where commanding, calm, generous Pierce was fighting another man for money? If she’d been inclined to, she might have fainted. She tried calling his name again, to beg him to stop. She was near tempted to climb the ropes and fling herself against him but her skirts would never allow it and she doubted the burly men surrounding it would either. It was suffer the spectacle of Pierce risking his life or be flung out. She’d suffer if it meant talking to him after the fight.

  If he survived.

  Her stomach bottomed out. She wished she’d eaten breakfast. Bile rose in her throat when more blows were exchanged, each one sounding more painful and damaging than the last. She didn’t know how long the fight lasted but she swore it felt like a lifetime.

  How foolish she’d been. So close to receiving something wonderful yet she’d not clung to it. God had seen fit to grant her a second chance at love and she’d been too terrified and foolish to grasp it with both hands. People thought her bold. How wrong they were. Now Pierce might pay for her folly. If she’d declared her love, he might have stayed. He wouldn’t have doubted himself, surely? Or her.

  Evelyn didn’t know whether to close her eyes to the sight of her love using his body in such a way or to watch each excruciating blow. But she couldn’t shut her eyes to it, somehow. Couldn’t tear her gaze from him.

  It happened in a blur. More sickening punches and slaps of flesh. She released another cry, unable to prevent herself. Pierce locked gazes with her briefly and something simmered through the air. He turned and with one incredibly powerful punch, he knocked the man to the ground—out cold.

  Deafening shouts of triumph echoed in her ears. Her vision narrowed to a mere circle and her skin grew hot. Evelyn swayed when Pierce came to the centre of the ring, his arms lifted in wearied triumph. He met her gaze and all breath left her lungs. The floor came up to greet her.

  When she next opened her eyes, there were strong, but damp arms around her. She was cradled against a chest and being carried. She drew in several long breaths and noted the air was no longer thick and musty. Her vision began to clear and the sight of Pierce’s swollen jaw filled it.

  He set her down on a chaise, kneeled in front of her and tugged at her gown. She ineffectively pushed his hands away but he continued to loosen and pull until her senses almost fully returned. Evelyn eased to sitting.

  “What are you doing here?”

  Her first instinct was to fling her arms around him and bury herself against his neck. She wasn’t sure he’d appreciate it with his injuries so she curled her fingers at her side.

  “You...you left without payment, Cynfell.”

  He shook his head and went to stand. “If you came about the money, you can leave right now. I’ve no intention of taking it.”

  “No.” She grabbed his arm and tugged him down to kneeling again. “Pierce. Please.”

  His eyes softened at the use of his name. He released a weary sigh, pushed a hand through his damp hair and locked his gaze upon hers. “What is it, Evelyn? Make haste because I’ve a desperate need to slap a decent steak against my face. A waste perhaps but...well, my face is worth it, do you not think?”

  Her lips twitched at his wry humour but it wasn’t said in his usual flippant manner. There was a hard edge to it and she had the horrible feeling she was responsible for it. Any amusement quickly dropped away, and she reached up to touch his bloodied mouth. He winced but let her touch him, and his body seemed to lose the tension within it. His muscles unfolded and relaxed, like a beast unfurling.

  “Pierce, I came to...” Her voice grew thin and strangled. She coughed and tried again. “I came to stop you, to ask you...” Blood seeped from a cut above his eye so she fished around for a handkerchief in her pocket and pressed it against the cut. “God, why are you even putting yourself through this?”

  “Isn’t it obvious?”

  “No.”

  “To prove myse
lf.”

  “By using your fists?”

  Pierce lifted a shoulder then hissed his pain. “How else is a fourth son to earn his living?”

  “Please stop,” she begged. “Do not fight. You don’t need to.” Evelyn removed the handkerchief, satisfied the bleeding had ceased. She curled it into her hands and stared at the pretty cotton now marred with red. “You need to come back to Fairchester,” she said quietly.

  “Forgive me, Evelyn, but believe it or not, I have some pride. I suppose I discovered that during our acquaintance so I owe you my thanks.”

  She snapped her head up. “You owe me nothing.” Leaning forward, she curled her hands around his shoulders, fearful he intended to leave her. “Pierce, I owe you. Not money, no. But I owe you my love. I owe you for helping me not to be scared anymore.”

  “Evelyn—”

  “I was terrified of being vulnerable again. It seems odd, I know. No one believes the Duchess of Ardleigh is scared of anything, but I am. Shortly before Rupert died, I also lost a child during childbirth. He was a beautiful boy who had taken my heart completely. Then Rupert died afterward and I lost myself to grief. I knew then that I couldn’t let myself be vulnerable again. And that I would never find anything worth being that weak for.”

  “Why did you not say?” His voice was gritty and harsh.

  “Because a duchess doesn’t talk about her emotions. Because—” she lifted a shoulder “—I’m a fool.”

  “No. Never. You’re the cleverest woman I know.”

  Evelyn shifted onto her knees in front of him so they were on an equal level and put her palms to his face. “Not when it comes to emotions. I love you, Pierce. I should never have denied that.”

  Though his eyes softened, a weary sigh released from him. “You were probably right to. What can I offer you?”

  “Not riches for certain.”

  “No, I would need a few more fights under my belt for that,” he admitted.

  “But I have no need for riches, remember?” She looped her arms around his neck, aware of her heart vibrating wildly in her chest. If he denied her now, she wasn’t sure what she’d do, but it didn’t matter. Evelyn knew without doubt she had to take this risk. “I need you,” she said softly. “I want you in my life as more than a lover.”

  His gaze searched hers. Doubt flickered in his green eyes. “Evelyn, your son—”

  “Is not in charge of me. No man ever has been. But if you would like to be my equal, I’d like that very much.”

  A tilted grin slipped across his lips. Pierce framed her face in her hands. “Is that a proposal?”

  She lifted a shoulder. “Not just any proposal. A proposal of marriage.”

  His smile expanded. “Ask me properly.”

  Evelyn lifted a brow. “Properly?”

  “Yes.” He leaned back and forced her to unlatch her hands from around his neck. Arms folded across his chest, a smug grin spread across his damaged face.

  Narrowing her gaze at him, Evelyn drew in a breath and arranged her skirts about her. She moved so she was on one knee. His lips quirked. “You really are the most arrogant...” she grumbled.

  With another inhale, she forced a beatific smile across her face, took his hand and perfected her sweetest voice. “Lord Pierce Cynfell, the love of my life, will you do the honour of marrying me?”

  He eyed her for many moments and her heart throbbed in her ears. Was he simply teasing her? Had he meant to humiliate her before saying no?

  “Well?” she demanded.

  A laugh burst from him, he bundled her into his arms and flattened her against his chest. “I’d be delighted.”

  Before she could give into the desire to slap his arm for keeping her waiting for so long, he kissed her, deep and hard and possessively.

  “I’m afraid I don’t have a ring,” she said, laughing when they came up for air.

  “I have you,” he muttered against her lips as he pressed tiny kisses to them. “That’s enough. That’s all I’ll ever need now.”

  Epilogue

  “You look beautiful, Mother.”

  Evelyn skimmed her gaze over her son as he sat next to her in the carriage and smiled when he ran a finger around the collar of his shirt. “And you look handsome indeed.”

  And far too grown-up, but she wouldn’t embarrass him by saying as much. Before her stood a man—and one ready to make his own mark on life. Though part of her ached to have her little boy back, gratitude made her heart swell. She now had two men who would always want the best for her and she didn’t need to worry about Samuel needing her anymore. He’d proved he was quite capable of standing on his own two feet these past few months.

  “You can change your mind, you know.”

  She narrowed her gaze at him. “I thought you liked Pierce.”

  “I do. But he is only seven years older than me. The gossip is already ripe.”

  So perhaps her son was not entirely ready to stand on his own. She’d have to counsel him to ignore the gossip. The newspapers had delighted over their wedding announcement, calling her many things—a she-wolf or some such nonsense. And of course, Pierce’s motivations were questioned too. But none of that mattered. Gossip would always follow a duchess and as long as she knew the truth, little else mattered. After all, she hadn’t reached this point in her life to be cowed by the insipid remarks of jealous folk.

  “Samuel, do not ever be swayed by gossip. You’re made of sterner stuff than that.”

  An eyebrow lifted and he let slip a tilted smile. “Mother, I take after you in many ways, in case you had not noticed. Idle talk doesn’t bother me. I only say these things because I do not want you to have any regrets.”

  Pride burst through her. She gave him a quick kiss on the cheek and noted the roll of his eyes. In some ways, he was still her little boy. “I have no regrets. I never will.”

  The only regret she could have ever had would have been if she’d let Pierce go. The idea of a future unknown set butterflies in her belly instead of a heavy ache. Pierce had done that for her.

  The carriage drew to a halt and the door opened. She drew in a breath, clutched her flowers and waited for Samuel to exit. He handed her down and she straightened her wedding gown. The flutter in her stomach increased. She was well-used to stepping into ballrooms and having her gown critiqued by everyone in attendance and to having her every move watched. But nothing could prepare one for walking up the aisle to marry the man one loved.

  On the arm of her son, Evelyn entered the church and her breath caught in her throat. The people in the pews vanished. She saw only Pierce. He glanced over his shoulder, then looked again. His smile made the nerves fly away. She lifted her chin high and returned his look with a smile of her own. One that she hoped told him how happy he made her, how loved she felt. How lucky she was to have found love all over again.

  “You look spectacular,” he murmured as she came to his side.

  “Thank you. You look wonderful. Though—” she slipped him a sideways glance “—it’s not my favourite outfit.”

  “I think I could take a gamble on your favourite look of mine. Does it involve minimal clothing?”

  “And here I thought you’d learned your lesson with gambling,” she said lightly as the vicar came their way to take up his position in front of them.

  “I would not mind making a wager now.” He leaned in. “I bet I can have you naked and writhing in pleasure within ten minutes of getting you into our honeymoon cottage.”

  Evelyn smothered a laugh lest everyone hear it and tilted her head toward him. “That’s a very safe bet, my lord, and the sort of gambling I find I cannot object to.”

  Pierce returned her grin, a glint of promise in his eyes and she knew he’d be fulfilling that bet soon enough. As they exchanged vows, she could only think how lucky she was that Pierce had lost his bet that day they’d met. She’d never regret picking up the handsome, naked man who had gambled with her heart and won it.

  THE END

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  Other titles by Samantha Holt

  Sinful Confessions (Book 1 Cynfell Brothers)

  Sinful Deeds (Books 2 Cynfell Brothers)

  Tempting His Mistress

  Once Upon a Rake

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  Coming November 2015

  Chapter One

  London, 1898

  Was it his imagination or was the scent of perfume emanating from that woman? Jasper peered over his wine glass at the woman—no, girl perhaps—in the doorway and pondered just how much Guerlain’s Jicky she could possibly be wearing if he could smell it from his position near the fireplace at the back of the wine bar. Of course, he knew the perfume well. Many women of his acquaintance wore it. He couldn’t recall the number of sweetly-fragranced necks he burrowed into while murmuring how delicious they smelled. And the response the vast majority of the time had been a giggle and ‘Oh it’s just Jicky.’

  Jasper let his brow furrow as he considered the woman with a hand to her hat. This was not the sort of woman to wear expensive perfumes or to bother with anything other than soap, in his experience. Her stiffly starched collar, small, non-descript cameo broach, tight jacket and long skirt spoke of a woman with little patience for vanity.

  A few speckles of rain and an umbrella in her hand told him the weather had turned since his arrival at Gordon’s. She turned his way, her hand still to the brown, wide-brimmed hat. It reminded him of something a pastor might wear and he had the urge to accidentally knock the monstrosity from her head and stomp on it. No woman should be dressed so dully.

  And he had now decided she was definitely a woman—though he could be forgiven for thinking of her as younger with an air of innocence that was wasted on her. Any other young woman would be using that petite face and wide brown eyes to beg for assistance but her pursed lips and severe eyebrows kept every man at bay.

  Including him. He had no interest in her even if he puzzled over why someone like her had stepped foot in Gordon’s Wine Bar—a place with a reputation for beautiful women, scandalous happenings and the occasional illegal activity.