Two Days of Temptation: The Brothers Mortmain Read online

  He sensed the old man’s shock, could picture the expression on his face. Let him wonder. Sebastian didn’t care. He had little enough to fill his days and if he wanted the woman to stay, then stay she would.

  “Did you hear me?” he said unkindly, pressing the point. “Or are you deaf as well as rude?”

  “Aye, Master,” Prentiss muttered, not to be suppressed. “I hear you. I’m just wondering if your wits are in the right place.”

  Sebastian ignored him, pulling away from his servant’s hand and making his own way to his bedchamber. He wanted to be alone, just for a moment. He needed to think. He had a headache, too, which was never a good sign. Perhaps Janet could rub his temples with lavender water.

  He smiled at the thought. Yes, she could minister to him, and he would delve into her lies a little farther.

  Hannah wondered what Sebastian was thinking, feeding her up like this. Did he imagine her a starving kitten? And what did he mean to do with her when she was fed? Send her back out into the harsh world?

  Still, she was hungry and food was food, so she eagerly demolished what Trudy put before her.

  “You were a long time on the moor,” the woman said with a suspicious glance. “Now Master wants you again. Have you put a spell on him, is that it? You’ve the look of a gypsy.”

  Even after all these years the word stung. Hannah shrugged her shoulder as an answer.

  “Well, whatever you be, you’re a nine days’ wonder in this household,” Trudy went on. “The master has never in all my time with him kept a woman as long as he has you.”

  “Why not?” she asked, swallowing her mouthful.

  Trudy’s turn to shrug. “He’s particular, and he has his demons, I expect,” she answered. “Now eat up. He’s awaiting you.”

  Hannah tried not to shiver. He was waiting and she would join him in his bed, and they would make love again. She had thought the time on the moor would be the last, and that she would finally confront him, but the moment had slipped by once more. Her body ached pleasantly from their time together. She would have thought she’d be sated by now, but already her weak flesh was tingling for his touch. If Sebastian was insatiable for her, then so was she for him.

  Once the food was eaten Trudy showed her the way to the master’s bedchamber. The room was quite dark when she opened the door, though not completely. He was lying upon the bed, the curtains half drawn about it, his arm across his face. When he heard her enter he lifted his head slightly and she could see enough to know that he had taken off his blindfold.

  “Janet, is that you? Come here.” He didn’t sound like the robust man of the moors—it was almost as if he was in pain.

  Warily Hannah approached, peering anxiously into the shadows. Without his blindfold, she expected to see scars on his face, but there were none. And his eyes appeared to be open, which gave her a start, until she realized that he must be staring into the blackness before him.

  “Can you...are you able to see at all?” she murmured.

  “No. I am blind.”

  “Are you feeling unwell?” she ventured, standing a little way from him. “I should leave you to rest, sir.”

  “No,” he mumbled. “Come and sit with me.”

  Hannah knew she should leave but knew just as well she did not want to. Goosebumps prickled on her skin. The truth was shocking but at the same time it was a relief. Hannah felt as if a wall had been demolished inside her mind and now she could see everything so much more clearly. All her rage and anger and hurt were still there—of course they were— but there was also the knowledge that she had loved him once and those feelings had not gone away. Sebastian had been everything to her, and the real reason she wished to revenge herself upon him was because... No, she could not admit that, even to herself.

  Hannah sat down on the edge of the bed and looked unseeingly about her. Some part of her brain took in the fact that the bedchamber was sparsely furnished. The few pieces of furniture were dark and heavy and no doubt family heirlooms. Sebastian had tossed his jacket upon a chest by the window, and on the table by the bed was a bottle of lavender water. Instinctively, needing something to do, she reached for it.

  “Do you have a headache?” she whispered. “Should I bathe your head?”

  He shifted restlessly. “Please.”

  There was no cloth and she opened the drawers in the chest. As with the rest of the room the contents were sparse—some plain items of clothing, enough for a man who mostly kept his own company. After a short search Hannah found a clean handkerchief and returned to the bed, where she sat by his side and dampened the handkerchief with lavender water.

  His eyes were closed now and his brow creased with pain. She began to dab the cloth against his temples gently, the soothing fragrance enveloping them both. After a moment he sighed.

  “That is good,” he said. “Thank you.”

  Hannah continued massaging his skin, pausing to brush his hair back where it fell untidily over his brow. There was a scar on his temple, a small indentation, and she ran her finger over it curiously. She did not remember it from before. Outside she could hear rain patter against the windows and when she finally looked up she could see that it had grown even darker in the room. It seemed the promised bad weather had arrived. Soon Sebastian appeared to be sleeping and she placed the handkerchief and bottle on the table.

  Her gaze slid over his dimly lit yet familiar features, pausing a moment to rest on his lips. It seemed incredible that this man was here with her now when she had thought never to see him again. There’d been a vast chasm between them, and there still was, but sitting here beside him she almost felt as if everything that had been broken might still be mended.

  How was that possible? It wasn’t possible. Hannah felt her heart grow heavy. He had abandoned her and their unborn child. She could not forgive him that. She never would. No amount of the feelings she still had for him could make things better. And yet...there was a sense that she was taking part in a dream and she didn’t want to wake up. Not yet.

  Hannah yawned. She was tired again. In the six weeks since she’d left Mrs. Parsons and headed off to find Sebastian, sleep had been a rare commodity. Days and nights had been spent brooding, planning and searching for the man who now lay on the bed at her side.

  And she had found him.

  Now she just had to decide what she was going to do with him.

  She lay down with her head on the pillow next to him and stretched out upon the comfortable mattress. A gust of wind blew against the windows, and once again rain rattled on the glass panes. It was heavier now. Outside the weather was hostile but here, inside with Sebastian, she was safe and warm. If she wanted to she could pretend she was living in the world of two years ago, and that nothing had ever come to tear their happiness asunder.

  If Sebastian hadn’t left her, she might now have a child toddling about, clinging to her skirts. Perhaps another in her arms. And Sebastian, loving her, making her life as perfect as he’d always promised.

  Soon Hannah was asleep. And as if it had been waiting for just this moment, the nightmare of her past reached out and swallowed her.

  7

  Two Years Before

  Sebastian had gone out early, before dawn, and still had not returned. Hannah wandered about the house like a lost soul. Where was he? Why hadn’t he explained where he was going, or that he might be some time? They had been spending every waking moment together—and sleeping ones as well—and she didn’t know what to think of his absence.

  By noon she was more than worried. By evening she was frantic, terrified that something dire had happened to her lover. The servants uttered soothing words and shook their heads at her questions, but despite their reassurances, Hannah could see that they were troubled as well.

  Alone in the dining room, she sat playing with her food, glancing every few moments at the window, straining to hear the sound of his horse returning. She’d imagined that return so many times her head ached. He would take her into
his arms and kiss her tears away and all would be well.

  Only when the meal was taken away—uneaten and cold upon her plate—did Hannah retire to bed for a sleepless night. Sebastian had still not come home.

  The next day was far worse. He did not come and now the servants were casting her sideways glances. Hannah sensed a change in their attitude from their initial sympathy. She heard them whispering about her, how the Earl of Mortmain would be angry with them for sheltering her, and they might lose their positions. Hannah was an interloper, a woman their master’s son had thrust upon them, and they wanted her gone before his father descended upon them.

  It was true. This was not her house and she had no right to be here, not without Sebastian’s protection. Hannah knew with a sinking heart that she would have to leave. As another day passed, and then another, she could no longer pretend that Sebastian would return. She packed her bag and asked to be taken in the carriage to her mother’s house.

  The distance was not so great, but it seemed as if she was leaving all her happiness behind her. How could this be happening? After all he had said, after all the plans they had made, after all his promises...to simply leave her. Abandon her. And what of his child—their child? What would become of it? Despite her sincere trust in him, doubts and misgivings had begun to wriggle from the shadows and into her heart and mind, spreading their contagion.

  When Hannah reached her mother’s home she stood on the driveway as the carriage rattled off, clutching her cloak about her thickening figure and staring up at the modest façade. Her mother had always had pretensions far above her station. Hannah would have thought she would be pleased that her only daughter had found an aristocrat like Sebastian. But no, all her mother saw was her daughter’s immoral behaviour. A lady would not behave so. Even marriage could not cure the canker. And love! A lady of breeding was not ruled by her heart. Love was for common folk.

  Hannah didn’t want to be here and she knew her mother would not welcome her with open arms. But what else was she to do? She had nowhere else to go.

  Finally, reluctantly, Hannah made the journey to the door and rattled the knocker.

  The servant who answered was white faced. She seemed shocked to see Hannah. No, it was more than shocked, she was horrified. The servant backed away, blurting out something about fetching the mistress.

  Hannah stood in the cool marble entrance hall like a stranger, her bag at her feet. Something had happened and as she waited for her mother she knew it was very bad. Where was Sebastian? A tear ran down her cheek but she wiped it away. This was no time to cry. She had to be strong.

  After a while she looked up and saw her mother was already there. She was standing, watching her from the landing at the top of the stairs. Hannah did not recognise her at first, she was so still, and her figure was swathed in black.

  “Mother?” she whispered, stepping forward, her face lifted. And then she saw her mother’s expression and cried out. “Mother!”

  “This is your doing.” The voice was empty of emotion, but her mother’s eyes were ablaze. “Your brother is dead and it is all your doing!”

  “Desmond?” She spoke his name foolishly, as if she had another brother. Hannah took another step toward the stairs. “I don’t understand. How can it be my fault? What happened?”

  “He called your lover out, seeking to restore your honour. They fought a duel. He was shot dead four days ago at dawn.”

  Hannah pressed her hand to her mouth. Her stomach clenched. “No,” she cried out, but even as she denied it, she knew it was true. Her mother’s face told her it was true. And it explained so much—Sebastian’s going out so early, before dawn—but it did not explain why he had not returned. Why had he left her all alone?

  Because he killed your brother and he was too much of a coward to face you. The cold voice in her head spoke the words she dared not think.

  “I did not know,” she wailed. “Mother, I swear I did not know!” Painful tears were now running down her cheeks.

  Clumsily her mother descended the stairs, as if she no longer had control of her limbs. Her face was ravaged by grief. Desmond had always been her favourite, her beloved son, and Hannah knew she would never forgive Hannah for her part in this tragedy.

  “Mother, I did not know,” Hannah cried again.

  “Go,” she said furiously. “Leave my house. I never wish to see you again. Go!”

  There was no point in arguing. No point even in begging. Her mother was implacable. Sobbing, Hannah grabbed her bag and ran from the house. She was outside on the carriageway before she knew it, and still she ran on. All she could think was that Desmond was dead and Sebastian had killed him.

  She had a little money. She caught a mail coach to London, where she took a room in a middling to poor inn. It was there that her baby miscarried and where afterwards, when the doctor informed her she would never bear another child, and the disapproving innkeeper’s wife had left her in her bed, she wept bitterly. She cried for her baby and for her lost love, and she cried for herself. Because from this moment on she knew she would be quite alone.

  8

  The thumping pain of his headache was receding at last. Sebastian knew this had to be the result of his efforts to see. He must not push the return of his sight, nor try to do more than he was able, but it was difficult. He’d always been the sort of man who expected a great deal of himself. Being blind had taught him fortitude and patience, but now that his sight was returning he’d forgotten those lessons in the urgent desire to regain what he had lost.

  “Sebastian.”

  His name on the woman’s lips brought him back to full consciousness. She murmured something else and then gave a gentle sob. He reached out and found the warm body beside him. Janet. She was lying on the covers, fully dressed, and despite her soft sounds he realized she was asleep.

  For a moment he wondered what she was doing here, then remembered how he had sent for her and she had bathed his head with lavender water. Her soothing touch had sent him to sleep. It had been so long since anyone had done that for him, not the paid act of a servant but a gesture made out of kindness. Although—and he smiled wryly at his own optimism—Janet was in his pay too, wasn’t she? Perhaps she was thinking that by tending to him she could increase her fee?

  “Sebastian.”

  Once again that husky whisper caught his attention. He leaned closer, forcing himself to focus, to see, but her face was nothing but a pale blur surrounded by a cloud of dark hair. He ran his fingers across her skin. Her eyes were closed and her lips parted. She was asleep. And dreaming of him? After so short a time? The idea made him smile. And then he frowned.

  He ran his fingers over her face again, more slowly, taking in the shape of it, the dips and curves and contours. There was something about her...a familiarity. Perhaps she had visited him from the inn previously? But no, he was quite certain he would not have forgotten Janet if she had been with him before.

  Sebastian leaned closer still, willing his sight to clear. But it was no use. His recovery could not be rushed it seemed, no matter how much he wished it.

  With a sigh he let his fingers rest against her cheek, enjoying the silky texture of her skin—she was one of those women with a creamy, clear complexion, he imagined. He felt her stiffen, the sudden indrawn breath, and knew she was now awake. She was attempting to remain very still but there was something in that motionlessness that gave her away. Why didn’t she speak? Perhaps she was afraid of him? A woman like Janet might not have always found men to be kind.

  Sebastian tried to set her mind at ease. “You were dreaming.”

  She took a shallow breath.

  “You spoke my name,” he added.

  “Did I?” she said, pretending to yawn and stretch. “How odd.”

  “Very odd. For we are strangers, are we not?”

  That telling slight pause. “Yes.”

  Why didn’t she tell him the truth? Explain where they had met? He was growing more and more certain th
at somewhere, somehow, he and Janet were acquainted. There was a mystery here and Sebastian was determined to solve it.

  He ran the pad of his thumb across her lips and back again. She made a restless movement but he didn’t think it was because she was frightened. He leaned over and brushed his lips with hers, the merest of touches.

  She sighed.

  He kissed her, and what started out as a ripple of passion soon grew into a wave. She wrapped her arms about his neck, drawing him down to her, and their mouths fused.

  Sebastian hadn’t had her completely naked before and all of a sudden he wanted that, her skin against his, both of them free of their clothing. He found the fastenings on her gown and began to undo them. She reached up to his shirt and tugged it over his head, and then her palms slid over his chest.

  He bent his head to lick at her breasts, suckling on the taut buds, causing her to moan and press harder against him. When he slid his thigh between hers, she rubbed her slick flesh against him, more than ready for him to take her. His cock was already hard, throbbing with the need to slide into her, but he held back. Foolish as he knew it was, he wanted her to ask him this time.

  “Sebastian,” she whispered, and held his face between her palms. He felt her warm breath against his lips a moment before she kissed him.

  Sebastian, I will always be yours.

  The words echoed in his brain, as clearly as if Janet had spoken them aloud. The past was bubbling up. And, Oh God. Her taste...he knew it. Memories crowded into his head, too many to bear. He tried to pull away, but she clung to him, her mouth caressing his, her body hungry for his.

  “Please,” she moaned. “Please, Sebastian...”

  Physical need took over with a wild desperation he hadn’t felt for a long time. Sebastian pushed his cock inside her deep and then deeper still. She moaned softly as she opened for him, lifting her hips to grant him better access. Her hands closed on his buttocks, holding him inside her, as if she didn’t want to ever let him go. But he pulled away and drew out of her, only to thrust back again, hard, perhaps even roughly compared to their previous encounters. He wanted to claim her, saturate every inch of her with his touch, so that she would never escape him.