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

“Unrest was brewing between the Texians and the Mexican government. Rich lands could be had for the taking. They fell in with a band of American adventurers—”


“Why? They’re English, for God’s sake!” The depth of Aunt Cecily’s distress was obvious.


“There were others…Scots, Irish, Germans. There was word there would be a battle.”


And of course William would be determined to be in the thick of it, taking along his brothers, not that John or Arthur would object.


“There was a siege, and for thirteen days they withstood constant bombardment by the Mexicans, but then…”


Tears slowly began trickling down Aunt Cecily’s cheeks.


Mr Stephenson drew a handkerchief from his breast pocket and gently dried her cheeks. “You must understand they were heroes.” Once again he cleared his throat. “There is no simple way to say this. I’m so sorry, Cecily. William is dead. John is dead.”


Chapter 94