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

“Sir Eustace is going to be paying us a visit and wishes for his rooms to be in readiness.”


“What?” I straightened abruptly, completely forgetting my manners. “Why? He never comes to Fayerweather this time of year.”


She turned to face us with a smile, but she was pale, and the expression in her eyes was bleak. “It seems he is finally at point non-plus. He plans to sell the Flame of Diabul.”


“His solicitor has managed to find a way around the entail, Sir Eustace writes, at least as far as the Flame is concerned.”


“Does he not fear the legend?” William made a production of selecting a biscuit from the tray.


“There won’t be anything left,” I said softly. Hell and the devil confound my uncle.


Even my mother’s jewels, which should have come to me, were gone, and I’d been severely beaten when I’d learned of that and had protested to him.


Chapter 18