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

The scent of the soap was unique, and lingered on the skin, spicy, and with a hint of the mysterious East. The exotic ingredients were reputed to insure everlasting love, although I’d never found that to be true, at least not for me, and I rather imagined not for the lady either, especially if the tales regarding King James had any measure of truth in them.


“Hmm.” Geo, his gaze growing hotter, dropped the flannel into the basin, dismissing everything save what he intended this night. “On your knees, Ashton.”


Grateful not to hear the hated name “Awful,” I sank to the carpeted floor and waited while he watched me. Without my spectacles, the world was something of a blur, and so I was pleased he didn’t ask me to remove them.


His fingers stroked over my moustache. “Such lovely, soft hair. I’ve been thinking of it all evening—what it would feel like on my flesh.”


Chapter 39