Sinful Possession (10 page)

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.

Their carriage came to a stop outside the walls of a red
brick house. Tall chimneys accented either end of the roof, and two large
columns framed the house. Ivy covered much of the front. Lila sighed. It was utterly
charming.

Although large enough
with—she glanced along the windows—at least eight or so bedrooms, it was
miniscule compared with the house her family had rented for the ball and likely
was no match for Ash’s family home either. But as a retreat by the sea, it was
perfect.

He opened the carriage door
and aided her out. “You like it,” he stated.

She supposed she must have
had a dreamy look upon her face. Though she tried to school her expression into
something more serene, she failed. “It’s...enchanting.”

Ash lifted a brow.

“You do not think so?” She
didn’t wait for his answer. The view of the sea drew her across the dirt road
to the cliff edge. The weather had been kind to them and though a brisk wind
came off the sea, scenting the air with salt, the sun glinted off the rolling
waves, turning the water an unusual blue for England.

Ash came up behind her. “Don’t
get too close to the edge. These cliffs have been eroding away for years. In my
grandfather’s time, there was quite a collapse.” He gave a chuckle. “We used to
own a lot more land here.”

Lila peered over the edge to
see along the line of the white cliffs. They were thoroughly alone here, and
she could see why Ash had chosen this as a place to hide. With the exception of
a tiny cluster of cottages slightly farther inland, they had seen no sign of
civilisation for miles.

Funny how she’d been so
looking forward to the hustle and bustle of London and now...

She glanced back at Ash. Now
it held little appeal.

Oh deary dear, that kiss. It
was back in her mind again. For most of the journey, she’d been recalling it.
Remembering the feel of his body and the way his mouth moved over hers.  And
now it had returned, haunting her thoughts.

“Shall we go in?” He held
out a hand.

He kissed you,
the
touch of his palm reminded her.
He. Kissed. You. Your lips touched.
They
had now kissed a total of three times but the last time...well,
goodness,
their bodies had certainly touched. But what did it all mean? He’d shown no
sign of wanting to repeat it again, and it was hardly ladylike behaviour to
fling herself upon him and beg for more kisses.

Ash led her into the house
and released her hand. Her stomach dropped a little. How was it possible to
crave the simple touch of a man so much?

Lila peered up at the
winding wooden staircase as it twisted up to the top of the house. Carved
shapes were etched into the ends—looking very much like giant pinecones—and the
bannisters were curled and intricate. The hallways very much said
female
,
from the powder blue walls to the lack of dramatic ornamentation. In a more
masculine house she might have expected female figures to punctuate the ends of
the stairs and pictures of hunts or medieval battles. Instead, seaside scenes
and landscapes dotted the walls.

“It’s so pretty.”

Ash glanced around, almost
surprised by the observation. He moved to light a lamp before shutting the door
behind them and encasing them in a warm, glowing room. “My mother had free
reign over this house. I think my father was happy to indulge if it meant she
wasn’t around much.”

“I’m sorry your parents had
an unhappy marriage.”

He lifted a shoulder.
“They’re not alone.” With great efficiency, he moved through the rooms, drawing
off the sheets and inspecting the fireplaces. “My brother must have been
planning to come soon. We’ve plenty of firewood.”

“Your brother is happily
married, is he not? In fact, I thought several were.”

He cast a look over his
shoulder before dropping to his knees and setting to work on the fire in the
main drawing room. “We won’t be able to light all of them, but if we keep this
and the bedrooms warm, we’ll be just fine.”

“Ash?”

He gave a little grunt but
kept his back to her. “Yes, my brothers are happily married. They found very
fine women.”

Lila sank onto one of the
chairs and traced the delicate silver embroidery on it. Why was it important
that she understood his stance on marriage? After all, a few kisses hardly
meant they should marry. Although, her very likely ruination might...

But did she even want that?
Her hand forced into marrying a man who might not want her?

“You don’t think you’ll find
a fine woman?”

He paused and dropped the
flint in his hand. Lila swallowed and held her breath when he pivoted. The look
he gave her was so intense that it made the room shrink. Nothing else existed
except them. How did he do that?

“I might find her. Whether
she will want me is another thing.”

Breathing became impossible
until he twisted around and turned his attention back to the fire. She drew in
a deep breath and pressed her palms against her chest. Oh deary dear, what an
effect he had on her. Could he possibly have meant her? The look he’d given her
had surely indicated so. But why would he think she wouldn’t want him? Why
would any woman not want him? As far as she could see, there was no man on earth
like him.

Was she really talking
herself into longing for a marriage with him? Lila put her hands to her cheeks
and shook her head at herself. She didn’t know what she wanted.

“There, that will warm up
soon enough,” he announced and came to his feet. Lila dropped her hands as he
studied her, a slight frown on his face. “Lila, are you well?”

“Yes, of course.” She
offered a stretched smile. “Just a little tired.”

“Let me take your belongings
upstairs. You’ll be at the top of the house. You can rest then if you like.”

“I do not think—”

He was gone, striding
through the rooms to the hallway where they’d abandoned her meagre luggage. She
strode after him but couldn’t catch up until he reached the top of the house.
She paused to catch her breath after traversing all those stairs in a tight
corset.

Ash pushed open the door to
the room near the front of the house. The bedroom was small but similarly
furnished like the rest of the house. No canopy adorned the bed that looked
plush and comfortable once Ash had drawn away the coverings. The silver and
blue theme continued, echoing the wash of the ocean outside. She took a moment
to peer out at the white tips on the unnaturally blue sea while seagulls swept
past the window. Under any other circumstances, she could be quite happy
staying here. It really was beautiful.

“I am not that tired
actually,” she put in while he placed her bag near a delicately gilded armoire.

“Very well.” He looked
mildly annoyed at her insistence she did not need rest. “Are you hungry?”

Lila nodded, though she
wasn’t sure she’d be able to eat, not after the look he’d given her earlier. It
had imprinted on her brain and her hunger was slowly vanishing with every
moment spent with him. Or, more accurately, being replaced with a different
type of hunger.

She very much wanted another
look like that. Perhaps another kiss too. Maybe even more. She would have
thought being away from Stourbridge would have rid her mind of such scandalous
thoughts, but they lingered when he pressed a hand to the back of his neck and
she saw his muscles flex against his shirt. Then when he brushed past her to
guide her downstairs, she fought the need to lean into him and let his chest
skim her body.

Curling her fingers into her
palms, she followed him meekly down to the kitchen. A large range occupied
almost one side of the room. Lila moved around a well-worn table and eyed the
blue and white china stacked neatly.

“There are no regular staff
here?” she asked.

Ash shook his head and
propped his hands on his hips. “My mother used to bring along the household
staff and Julian and Viola do the same. There’s no sense in keeping it fully
run at all times.”

“So it’s just the two of us...”
she murmured, more to herself.

His dark eyes connected with
hers. “It is.”

Heat rolled up from deep
down, filling her face. She glanced away.

Ash opened the larder and
peered in. “Well, we won’t be eating much fresh food, but there’s enough and
the village shop is only two miles away. We can take a walk to it tomorrow.”

He disappeared into the room
and return with a handful of potatoes, a few carrots and a bunch of some kind
of herbs, and a generous block of wrapped cheese. “Do you know how to cook?”

Lila hated to admit it but
she’d spent her life preparing to be the wife of someone rich. Cooking
certainly was not part of her education. She shook her head numbly.

“I can make a soup, I
think.”

“You can?”

“It’s been a while, but I
liked to spend time in the kitchens at Lockwood as a boy.”

“Why?”

He shrugged. “Seemed a good
place to escape.”

“Because of your headaches?
Why the kitchens?”

“It’s hard to be confined to
your bed all the time when you’re a lad, particularly when your mother and
father have forbidden it. My brothers were a boisterous lot so it seemed as
good a place as any to hide.”

“I’m sorry your parents
weren’t sympathetic. I cannot imagine what that must be like.”

He set out the vegetables
and set about peeling the potatoes with a knife. She watched the movements with
fascination, admiring the way his muscles flexed in his forearms.

“Your parents are not so
cold-hearted, I take it?”

“They’re very loving, if a
little...determined.”

“Determined how?”

Lila sat on a stool in the
corner of the kitchen and glanced out of the window. From here, the sea
stretched out, filling most of the view. She bit back a sigh. “They have always
wanted a lot for me. I’m sure that is nothing different to most parents.”

“As in marriage.”

“A good marriage,” she
corrected, facing him. “I had been so looking forward to achieving what they wanted
for me.”

He paused peeling. “But
you’re not anymore?”

“I’m not sure what I want
anymore.”

Or was she? Was what she
wanted right in front of her? She hardly knew anything now. For as long as she
could remember she’d been her family’s great hope. Why else would she be so
blessed, said her mother. She was destined for great things.

What if those great things
no longer appealed? What if a
good
marriage would not make her happy?

Ash studied her, until she
fidgeted on the stool. She cleared her throat. “Can I help?”

“You can peel the carrots.
They’re not exactly fresh, but they’ll taste fine in a soup.”

She slid off the stool and
took a knife, copying his movements. Unfortunately, she wasn’t as efficient as
him so by the time she had finished the three carrots, he was already putting
water on the stove and adding the potatoes and herbs.

“Can you chop them?” he
asked.

“I think so.”

With great precision, she
cut them into careful slices then brought them over to the range. Ash added
them to the soup.

“Shit.” He yanked his hand
away and put his finger in his mouth.

“What is it?”

“Burned my finger,” he said,
the words muffled from the finger in his mouth.

Lila tugged his finger out
of his mouth and inspected the small red mark on it. Before he could protest,
she dragged him over to the sink and put his finger under the tap.

“It’s cold,” he protested.

“Good.”

She held his hand under the
water, fully aware he could pull away anytime he wanted. But he didn’t. At some
point, she turned off the tap. Then she gently dabbed his finger dry. She was
hardly aware of doing these things as she couldn’t drag her gaze from him. Her
heart pounded so loudly she was certain he had to hear it. The truth came to
her. If it weren’t for the fact a serial killer was after her, there was
nowhere she’d want to be more than by Ash’s side. And if the way he looked at
her was anything to go by, she suspected he felt the same.