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

His gaze locked on my mouth, he seemed fascinated with it, and he took my chin in his long fingers. I grew still as he drew me closer to him, murmured something against my lips, and kissed me again.


I inhaled, a sudden, startled breath, and his scent—the scent of musk and male and something essentially Geo—flooded my nostrils until I was almost drowning in it.


What a clever mouth he had! His lips teased, at first gently, and then with more pressure until my lips tingled and parted to grant him eager entry. He licked at the smoothness under my upper lip, and my own tongue stroked tentatively the ridged underside of his tongue as it explored my mouth. I shivered with rising need.


Dear God, why had no one ever told me the magic, the splendour, the wonder contained in a meeting of lips?


With a soft groan, I leaned into him and simply surrendered, and he took my mouth with teeth and tongue. I let him have his way with me, losing myself in the sensation.


Chapter 42