Tinnean

Ashton Laytham was a happy little boy until, at the age of seven, he lost his parents. Sent to Fayerweather to be brought up by his uncle and his uncle’s wife, he was perceived to be an unhappy, unlovable child. Shunned by family and servants and permitted no friends to visit, he grows to adulthood alone and aloof, with only an occasional illicit rendezvous to lighten his days. When his uncle dies, leaving the estate virtually bankrupt, it’s left to Ashton to make good on his uncle’s gaming debts and save Fayerweather. But how? The family talisman, worth thousands of pounds, has been stolen and the suspects vanished in the night, leaving Ashton to face the loss of the home he’s come to love. Geo Stephenson, who works in His Majesty’s civil service, has ghosts of his own. The product of a marriage of convenience, Geo has known all his life his father never loved his mother, and he vows that will never happen to him. Marked by a physical scar earned in battle, none of his previous lovers could bear looking at it without shuddering; his mental scars are due to the many friends lost in useless battles. Geo arrives with a fistful of Sir Eustace Laytham’s IOUs and a solution: Ashton accommodating him in bed, thereby paying off the debt. Attracted to Geo in spite of himself and desperate for any human kindness, Ashton agrees ... never expecting to lose his heart to a man who has sworn he’ll never give his. Can these two men find a measure of happiness together?

Bless Us With Content

William nodded in satisfaction, then said, “Chin up, stout fellow,” and began to dig out the splinter.


Arabella clutched Arthur’s hand. “You’re being so brave, Friar Tuck!”


“It…it doesn’t hurt very much. Honestly, Belle. I mean Maid Marian.” He bit down hard on the wood, his complexion turning green.


“Got the bugger!” William exclaimed triumphantly. Arabella clapped her hands over her ears, but she giggled.


The blood flowed freely, and I sat down abruptly, feeling lightheaded.


Arabella tore off a strip of her petticoat, dabbed at the wound, and then bound it. “Are you feeling better, Arthur?” She petted his arm.


Robin Hood gave a dramatic moan. “No! Too late! We were too late. The arrowhead must have been dipped in poison. You’ll pay for this treachery, Sheriff, you and your dastardly Prince John.” He shook his fist at me, then turned back to his youngest brother. “But for now—Friar Tuck died an honourable death. We must give him a hero’s funeral.”


Chapter 6