TWO DAYS OF TEMPTATION: Brothers Mortmain Book 2 Page 4

  “We are going for a walk on the moor, Janet.”

  As if walking on the moor was, for a blind man, the most natural thing in the world.

  5

  He could smell Trudy’s soap on Janet’s skin and hair, but beneath that was still that other elusive scent. What was it? If only he could remember. Why was it so important to him? If only he could push aside the fog and see what was stirring in his brain.

  She was smaller than him, but that wasn’t surprising, given his height. The top of her head probably only reached his shoulder.

  It amused him to have surprised her. She’d thought he would take her straight to bed, but that was not his plan today. He wanted to enjoy the sunshine while it lasted—and it never lasted up here. It was far too long since he had strolled on the moor with Nimrod. Prentiss came with him sometimes, but the old man grumbled as if every step was shortening his life, and Trudy flatly refused. He could hardly stumble about on his own, and today he had a willing companion to walk with him.

  Or perhaps not so willing, he thought with a smile.

  “We do not have to walk,” he reminded her in his most reassuring voice. “We can spend the next hour in my bed, if that’s what you prefer.”

  He felt her stiffen. She hesitated as she chose her words. “Thank you, my lord, but I would prefer to walk.”

  It was one of the longer sentences he’d had from her. Her voice was low and soft, almost a whisper, but he detected the accent of a lady. He’d been right, then, when he thought she was no ordinary whore.

  “There should be a pathway beyond the gate,” he said after a moment. “It runs across the moor toward the village.”

  “I see it,” she said.

  “Then we will follow it for a way. If we stick to the path, Janet, we will not get lost and fall into any of the quagmires.”

  “Quagmires?”

  “Oh yes, there are plenty to trap unwary walkers. Prentiss has rescued a few unlucky travellers before they drowned. You’d best stay close to me.” If she’d been considering running off, he thought, then his warning should make her think again.

  “I’m not going to run away,” she reminded him as if reading his thoughts. “You haven’t paid me yet.”

  * * *

  Sebastian gave a snort of laughter. “No, I have not. I will pay you when we are done, Janet. We are not done yet, are we?”

  She did not answer his question and they walked on.

  The path was mostly even and Sebastian knew it well enough not to stumble too often. When he did, Janet tightened her grip upon his arm as if to save him the indignity of a fall. He was aware of her care of him and wondered if it was because she was eager for her payment or because she genuinely wished him to be safe. He supposed it could be both. Just because a doxie plied the trade to survive did not mean she was heartless. Though some he’d met had clearly lost their souls.

  “Are you cold?”

  The sunshine was warm against his head and the breeze light enough not to make him regret the absence of his jacket. He was strolling along in his shirtsleeves and she wore only her gown.

  “No, sir.”

  “Have you a shawl? The ladies I used to know had cashmere shawls.”

  She paused. “It is back at the inn, sir,” she said, and he knew it was a lie.

  The hesitation gave her away, he was beginning to discover. Whenever she told an untruth she paused first—so she was not an experienced liar at any rate. He’d remember that as he set about unravelling her secrets. And he wanted to unravel her, he’d decided. He wanted to solve this little mystery that had fallen into his lap.

  “Tell me about yourself, Janet.”

  “What should I tell you, sir?”

  “Whatever you like.” He heard a bird fly up before them and he heard Nimrod give a bark before taking off across the moor after it, the sound of grass rustling as he streaked away. “Were you always a whore?”

  Her breath caught at his blunt words but she answered steadily enough. “No. Not always.”

  “Ah. And did you turn to that calling through necessity? Or was it through fancy, Janet?”

  Her fingers tightened on his arm. Her voice dropped lower. “A little of both, I suppose.”

  “Was it a man who brought you to your current situation?” So often, Sebastian discovered, that seemed to be the case.

  “Yes. A man who betrayed and abandoned me.”

  She sounded breathless and her fingers clenched on his sleeve. He wondered what emotions she was struggling with. Her words were clipped and unrevealing. There was obviously a great deal she was not telling him.

  “This man must have been a cad then, Janet. An unprincipled scoundrel, eh?”

  She gave a muffled laugh and he smiled in response, wondering what she found so amusing about his assessment. She interested him and he wanted to know more. He wanted to peel off her outer skin like an onion, until he reached the inner heart.

  But before he could delve further, his foot slipped into a shallow ditch. In trying to find his balance he misjudged his step. Sebastian tumbled sideways, and only then realized he was walking along the section of the path that dropped away to one side, down a slope. He reached out to stop himself, but Janet could not save him and his cane found no purchase.

  And then he was falling.

  * * *

  Hannah didn’t even have time to scream.

  When Sebastian stumbled it happened so quickly. She tried to stop him but his weight carried her with him and she fell, tumbling down the heath-covered slope, over and over. Fortunately the vegetation was soft and springy, but it seemed to take a very long time before they finally came to a halt at the bottom.

  She lay a moment, breathless on the ground, her head still spinning. Her hair, which had been loose, was now a tangled mess and she pushed it away from her face. The sky above her was soft blue, and the silence—once her heart had stopped pounding—was complete. The smell of crushed vegetation was all around her. She turned her head and saw that Sebastian was lying beside her. It occurred to her that he might be injured. She pushed herself up onto her elbow and leaned over him just as he lifted his head.

  “Janet?” he said.

  “I’m here.” She put her palm flat on his chest. “Are you hurt?”

  “I don’t believe so. Are you?”

  She shook her head and then remembered he couldn’t see her. “No.”

  Sebastian reached for her hand, his fingers warm and strong, and for a moment they stayed where they were. “Serves me right for thinking I was as good as any other man,” he said, with a hint of self-mockery. “I could have injured you. I am sorry.”

  The apology startled her. She had come to hear him say he was sorry, but not over this.

  “Janet?” He rolled toward her, wrapping his arms about her.

  Immediately she was afraid and struggled to be free. Her fear was for her own weakness however, and when he drew her hand down over his body to his breeches, and she felt the hard length of him through the cloth, she knew she’d been right.

  “I am in sore need of you, Janet,” he said against her hair.

  She wanted to take her hand away. She felt disorientated, shaken by the fall and by his closeness. She’d been about to tell him the truth up there on the path—he’d given her the perfect introduction—and once again fate had foiled her plans.

  “This is hardly the place—” she began with a shiver. The air was icy.

  He laughed, a deep, rich chuckle that caught at her heart. “Oh Janet, Janet, this is exactly the place.”

  His lips brushed her cheek, searching for her mouth. She turned her head away, still trying to gather her scattered thoughts. His hand slid up between their bodies and closed gently on her breast.

  A flare of desire caught fire inside her, growing hotter no matter how hard she tried to damp it down. He rolled onto his back, this time taking her with him, and she found herself lying astride his large body. Hannah placed her palms against his chest, pus
hing herself away enough that she could look down into his face. Her loose hair had made a cave between them and once more she pushed it back, twisting it over her shoulder to make it behave.

  “Kiss me,” he said. “Kiss me out here in the sunshine. It’s been too long since I’ve loved a woman outdoors.”

  Once more he’d thrown her into chaos. The memory that now filled her mind was of herself and Sebastian, lying naked in the grass by the stream that ran through his property, their bodies moving slowly and languorously together, mouths and hands, everything, in perfect harmony.

  She might have pushed away from him then and run off, left him there alone to fend for himself, but he’d used her delay to reach up and capture her and draw her down to him once more. When his mouth closed on hers, Hannah couldn’t help but respond. His lips, his tongue, teased and then claimed hers, and before she knew it she was hopelessly lost in their mutual pleasure.

  Hannah felt the bulge of his cock nudging against her thigh. Without even considering the consequences, she moved her hips so that it was pressed to the apex of her thighs, giving her a frisson of gratification every time she moved against him.

  “Ah,” she gasped against his lips.

  “Ah indeed,” he said, and she felt him smile.

  Soon the press of their bodies through their clothing wasn’t enough and she reached down to draw up her skirts. He was fumbling with his breeches, so she helped with those too, slipping her hand inside the opening to release him. His cock, hard and warm, seemed to pulse in the grasp of her fingers.

  Now when she lay down again on top of him, she was able to close her naked thighs about him, so that his hard length could rub against her most tender flesh. Back and forth, slowly and exquisitely. Her breathing grew heavier with each movement and she heard him groan.

  “Take me inside you,” he murmured. It was not quite a plea but almost.

  Hannah smiled. It was good to have Sebastian beg.

  “I like things the way they are,” she informed him, moving again. His cock had hardened considerably, and she was so moist now that he slid against her with ease. Her bud was hard too, and each time he brushed against it he sent tremors through her. The ache in her loins was growing and soon, very soon, she would reach her climax.

  And then? Hannah couldn’t think, didn’t know, only that she had some vague idea of standing up and walking away, leaving him here, all alone on the moor.

  He caught her hips, stilling her. “No,” she moaned. “Let me.” But despite her protests, he rolled her over again, and this time he was on top. He was a large and heavy man, but he kept his weight from her, using it only to keep her where he wanted her. Her legs were open and he was placed between them. He grunted with amusement at her efforts to wriggle out from under him.

  “Be still,” he commanded, and his cock nudged against her slippery flesh. And then he was sliding inside her, deeper and deeper, filling her willing body.

  The sensation took away what breath she had left. Perhaps it did for him as well, for he rested his brow against hers and lay still. After a moment her body began clamouring for him to move, aching for the friction that would finally bring her to her peak, but Hannah didn’t want him to know how much she needed him. She tried not to move, tried to play the game, but it seemed he was far better at this than her. She found herself unable to remain like a statue beneath him. A betraying twitch here and a slight gasp there, and finally she gave up and clasped her arms tight about his waist, at the same time lifting her hips to lodge him even deeper inside her.

  Again he groaned, and then began to withdraw. The tip of his cock was almost at her entrance when he thrust in again, this time nudging against her pearl and making her cry out with the delicious sensation. Pleasure washed over her, and she felt swollen with it. Drowning in it. So close now to her climax that she could not have stopped herself even if she’d wanted to. And of course she didn’t.

  Hannah moved with him, their bodies as in tune as they always had been. His mouth closed on hers, his tongue mimicking what his cock was doing, and she cried out at last, the sound muffled and then joined by his echoing cry.

  Darkness fluttered at the edges of her vision. She felt her body contract as the ripples of bliss continued to race through her. Sebastian had stiffened as his climax took him. For a moment his full weight was upon her and she could not breathe, and then he was turning onto his side, taking her with him, both of them still joined.

  It seemed so natural to lie in his arms, warm, lying trustingly against him, her nose pressed into the hollow of his throat and his breath stirring her hair. For a long time they lay there together on the moor.

  6

  He heard her chuckle.

  Sebastian shook himself to wakefulness, wondering if he had really fallen asleep. The pleasure had been so intense it had permeated every part of his being. Perhaps he’d lost consciousness. Was that possible?

  She chuckled again.

  “What is it?” he demanded, irritated that she should find something amusing when he was still lost in a haze of ecstasy. “What’s making you laugh, woman?”

  “Nimrod.” Her voice was still soft as ever. “He’s sitting on a rock watching us. He looks... puzzled.”

  Now Sebastian smiled. He could imagine. He clicked his fingers and a moment later the dog’s furry muzzle nudged his hand. “Spying on us, are you?” he said with mock indignation, and Janet chuckled again. “Well, what have you to say for yourself?”

  Nimrod whined, as if playing along with the game.

  “The sun’s gone,” Janet said suddenly, and the humour had left her voice. “The sky is clouding over. We should go back, S...sir.”

  Sebastian realized she was right. There was a distinct chill in the air, the forewarning of bad weather. He sat up and tidied his clothing, while beside him he could hear Janet brushing down her skirts, and then a slight gasp of pain.

  “Did I hurt you?” he asked.

  “No, I...my slippers aren’t intended for walking outdoors.”

  “Boots are more appropriate in this part of the world,” he said.

  “I am not from this part of the world,” she retorted.

  He stood up. Nimrod pressed to his leg and he reached down to pat the dog. “Where are you from?” He asked as if it didn’t matter, but in fact he felt as if her answer was so important he could hardly breathe, yet at the same time he didn’t understand why that should be so.

  Sebastian heard her draw closer, then the touch of her hand upon his arm. “The path is above us,” she said, “but the slope is gentle. Give me your hand and I’ll show you.”

  He did as she asked. It seemed she was full of secrets she didn’t want to share, but Sebastian planned to worm them out of her before she left. His life here was solitary, apart from his servants and his dog, and the women who had come to him were not particularly interesting. This one was spectacularly different.

  They reached the path and stood a moment, catching their breaths. Nimrod ran off in the direction of the manor and Janet, who still held his hand in hers, gave a tug, urging him to follow.

  “There are darker clouds now,” she explained, and he heard the anxiety in her voice. “They are moving in very quickly.”

  He did not really need her observations. Sebastian knew his world well and he could feel the change in the air—the stillness with a slight electrical charge. The gathering fury of a storm. On the moors the weather was never to be taken lightly—it could turn from sunshine one minute to a blizzard the next.

  Quickly he walked alongside her, careful not to take another misstep. Every now and again the dog would return, gambolling around, barking, before racing off on his own business.

  “Tell me how you look, Janet,” he said, after a long silence. “Give me details of your appearance.”

  The hesitation gave her away; he knew she was about to lie. “I have fair hair and blue eyes,” she said. “Like you.”

  “And are you plump?”

  �
�Very. Round as an apple.” Her tone was wry.

  He laughed. “Liar.”

  “Why does it matter to you what I look like?” she asked him, the anxiety back in her voice. “One woman must be much the same as another to a blind man.”

  “You’re right, it doesn’t matter.” His voice had lost all its warmth, because it did matter and it was Sebastian who was lying now.

  He always asked Prentiss to find him a woman who resembled his ghost, and the old fool did his best to comply. Dark hair and dark eyes. A gypsy wench. If the servant failed then he usually talked the woman into telling his master what he wanted to hear, thinking the truth would not matter. But it did matter. Sebastian wanted to believe...to pretend, that when he took the woman’s body with his, it was her. That once more he was holding his Hannah in his arms.

  They were close to home now, and he heard the squeak of the gate that led from the moor path into the yard.

  “Master!” Prentiss was there, grasping his other arm, hurrying him toward the house. “Weather’s turning very bad.”

  “I know, Prentiss.”

  The servant dropped his voice. “Where was you, sir? We thought the trollop’d made off with you! Or cut your throat in the heather. Trudy was about to send me for the magistrate.”

  Sebastian frowned with annoyance. Was he such a wreck of a man that they could not trust him out of their sight for more than five minutes at a time? “I am perfectly well, Prentiss. Don’t fuss. And I may be blind, but I do know the trollop is at my side.”

  “Master.” The old man leaned closer, ignoring his reproach. “Do you want me to take the woman back to the inn now? If you want her gone it’d best be quick, before the weather closes in.”

  His first instinct was to say no, but he stopped himself. Prentiss was probably right. If she stayed and then stayed some more he would grow weary of her. Yet there was something about her that intrigued him, and his body was not tired of her yet. In fact he had begun to crave her. No, he didn’t want her gone, and he was willing to risk the weather.