The Cynfell Brothers

by Samantha Holt

  “Thank you,” she murmured, keeping her gaze lowered.

  She fidgeted when she sat in the chair and kept her gaze to her hands as she twisted her fingers together. Being in his room made her uncomfortable. The truth of it was, she made him uncomfortable too, but in the most pleasurable way. He had to concentrate hard on not getting aroused at the idea of this prim, virginal woman in his room.

  Jasper escaped quickly. It had to be a symptom of his failure with Constance. Or mere curiosity perhaps. But he did not bed women like Hettie. No. Never. Not at all.

  He found a steward and explained the situation. Between them they retrieved a spare key and with the help of some tools managed to free the old key. Meanwhile, Hettie waited in his room. In all that cotton. Probably completely naked underneath. All he’d have to do was lift up the hem and...

  “There we go, my lord.”

  “Thank you.” He fished out a few shillings and handed them to the steward before pocketing the key and returning to his room.

  He found Hettie in the same spot, fingers still twined together. Not naked and waiting on his bed for him, unfortunately. But of course not. Hettie would never do such a thing. She was the daughter of a vicar for Godsakes.

  “Is it fixed?”

  “Yes.” He pulled out the key and cradled it in his palm.

  She came to her feet and gave him a relieved smile. “Thank you, my lord. You saved me some embarrassment.”

  Apparently his opinion didn’t count so she couldn’t possibly be embarrassed by him seeing her in her nightgown. He curled his fingers over the key.

  “Jasper,” he said. “Now I’ve seen you in your nightgown I think we can dispense with formalities.”

  “Oh.” She folded her arms over her chest. “Yes. Of course. Thank you, Jasper.”

  Dear Lord, hearing her say his name in her throaty voice was like a shot to the heart. Or the cock. He wasn’t sure which. Either way, his heart thudded and his cock ached.

  “Well...” She held out her hand for her key.

  He tightened his grip on it. “Thank me with a kiss.”

  “Pardon?”

  The words had spilled out before he’d considered it. There was something frustrating about how she stood there perfectly composed while a storm of emotions blasted through him. He wanted her suffering too.

  “A kiss for the key.”

  “No.” She shook her head. “No. You want a kiss? From me?”

  “That is what I said,” he drawled.

  “But...No. How dare you? Give me my key.”

  “Give me my kiss.”

  Hettie narrowed her dark eyes at him and those lips pursed. He’d never wanted a kiss more.

  “You are a blackguard.”

  “Yes.”

  “You cannot do this.”

  “I am not the one who is locked out. I can do whatever I wish.”

  She shifted from foot to foot and uncrossed her arms. “Fine. One kiss for my key.”

  He released a triumphant grin. “Deal.”

  Jasper waited for her to move. He wouldn’t make this easy on her. Let her suffer like he was. Yes, he was a sadistic bastard.

  A floorboard creaked as she took a step forward. Then another. She had to move closer than he suspected she wanted to so she could lift her face to his. He stiffened every muscle in his body so as not to close the gap. The temptation to wrap his arms around her and pull her tight to him made his fingers twitch.

  A brow lifted, he waited, not breaking his gaze from hers. Her eyes remained thin slits of annoyance. She lifted her chin higher and moved forward so swiftly he barely had time to comprehend that her lips had touched his in a kiss that could hardly be counted as such.

  “There,” she declared.

  He shook his head. “That was not a kiss. That was a...touch.”

  Hettie released a long huff. “This is blackmail.”

  “Maybe.” He gave her a flash of teeth. “Now, a proper kiss, if you please.”

  She moved forward again, giving him a chance to appreciate her perfume. He puzzled at the use of it. It seemed far too indulgent for a woman like Hettie. There was a hidden side to her perhaps.

  “Make it a good kiss,” he murmured as she moved in.

  Her eyes flared before her lips met his. She flattened her lips to his and the tiniest moan escaped her. The sound rioted through him, so unexpected, so intriguing. When she moved her lips over his, Jasper lost all control and latched his arms around her waist. A startled noise escaped her and he opened his eyes to see her staring wide-eyed back at him. It wouldn’t stop him, though. He moved his mouth too, and soon her lids fluttered closed. A burst of triumph seared him.

  Bloody hell, there was so much softness. Her breasts were ridiculously full. He could even feel the slight roundness to her stomach crushed against him. Everything about her said woman. He allowed his fingers to edge over the curve of her rear and...yes, just as he’d pictured. Here was the sort of woman you saw in all the old paintings. She would feel spectacular naked and writhing against him.

  He wanted to taste her, to push the kiss deep, but somewhere in the back of his mind he recalled his dishonest manner of gaining this kiss. If he was going to taste all her secrets, he suspected he’d rather discover them by more honest means.

  Jasper broke the kiss but held her for a few moments more while she gathered her breath. Slowly, reluctantly, he released her.

  “The key,” she prompted breathlessly, hand held out.

  And, though breathless, she appeared far more composed than he. Damn, now he wanted her unravelled again. He wanted to see the wide-eyed shock as he made her feel things she’d never felt before. Jasper wanted her to feel as he did—coming undone inside.

  He handed over the key and she clutched it tight as though he might steal it back.

  “I won’t take it from you.” He lifted both brows. “Unless you want me to.”

  “You’re despicable,” she told him, but the words didn’t have much force behind them.

  “You’re delicious,” he responded.

  There it was. Those eyes rounded with shock and if he wasn’t mistaken, desire. Hettie Foster was too much fun to toy with. He really had to stop.

  Soon, he promised himself. After all, women like her did not end up in bed with men like him. They married fine, upstanding members of their community and made babies and led a generally wholesome and dull existence. Far be it for him to get in the way of the grand scheme of things.

  Hettie didn’t respond. Those big eyes narrowed to slits once more and she breezed past him, slamming his door shut behind her. Jasper couldn’t help but grin at the closed door. That had been one unexpectedly spectacular kiss.

  And he wanted more.

  Chapter Six

  Hettie kept her gaze lowered when she spotted him and tried to sink into her seat. There was no escaping him on a train unfortunately. As much as she’d have loved to have stayed in her room, her stomach grumbled after a missed evening meal and she’d been forced to go to the dining car for breakfast. While she shovelled down her food as quickly as possible, he scanned the length of the carriage.

  Looking for her no doubt.

  Why did he have to plague her? Why did he enjoying riling her so?

  Why had she not been able to forget that kiss?

  Blast the arrogant, frustrating man. Did she not have enough to worry about without him tormenting her? She almost put a finger to her lips as they tingled in remembrance when he approached. That second kiss had been nothing like the silly, shy kisses she’d experienced as a young girl. He’d wrapped himself around her, pressed against her, moulded her to his body.

  At the time, she had wanted nothing more than to be kissed deeper, like the kisses she’d heard about from her sister who dreamed of nothing more than being swept away by a handsome lord. There were kisses, Emma had said, where a man would taste you so deeply that your body would sparkle to life and your souls would connect.

  Of course, Hetti
e had counselled against such thoughts—they were extremely unbecoming for a young lady, particularly a vicar’s daughter—but Emma would never listen.

  And now Hettie found herself curious about those sorts of kisses. Did they truly exist? If she had kissed him again, would it have turned into one of those?

  “Good morning.”

  Blast, she hated the man. And wanted to kiss him. But, oh, she loathed him. One glance of his smug expression told her that somehow he knew exactly what she was thinking. Her gaze dropped to his lips that were in a tilted smile. The smile expanded. Blast, blast, blast. He knew.

  “Can I join you?”

  She looked at the empty seat opposite and wondered how much of a scene it would cause to say no. Knowing Lord Jasper, he wouldn’t give two hoots about causing a fuss and declaring loudly how rude she was or some such.

  “Yes,” she grumbled.

  What she would do was finish off her meal as quickly as possible and retreat to her room. She could read for the rest of the day and take a late lunch in the hopes of avoiding him. Perhaps if she asked a steward they would bring her a light supper. Then she only needed to survive one more day before sneaking off the train and trying to avoid him in Scotland. She might have been grateful for his offer of help before but she didn’t need or want it now, and the more time she spent with Lord Jasper Cynfell, the more she became convinced it was not wise to rely on him for anything. This man was a scoundrel, as he so well proved the previous night. Why should she trust such a man?

  “Did you sleep well?” he asked as a waiter poured his tea.

  “Very well, thank you,” she responded stiffly. He really did know. He understood she’d been kept awake by remembering the feel of his lips against hers. How did he do that? Those cognac-coloured eyes seemed to see right through her. “And yourself, my lord?”

  She didn’t want to ask, didn’t even want a conversation with him. Hettie wanted to finish her meal and escape the presence of a man who made her feel as though she were on a runaway train instead of a leisurely sleeper. However, she was a vicar’s daughter and polite conversation was ingrained in her.

  Even if she hadn’t quite managed to be at all polite to him so far...

  Well, she’d try now. Put them on a formal basis and maybe even talk him out of trying to assist her at all. Yes, that sounded a fine plan indeed.

  “Like a baby. And it’s Jasper.”

  So much for formal. “I never understood that phrase. Babies sleep poorly, do they not?”

  “I wouldn’t really know.”

  “No, I don’t suppose you have any intention of finding out either.”

  He paused halfway through buttering his toast. “What do you mean?”

  “Well, it’s just you are not really...the fatherly sort. And why should you be? With so many brothers, it’s not like you need to sire an heir.”

  “That much is true. As for being the fatherly sort, I know many men who should likely never have been a father—mine for example—but a child changes a man. I’ve seen just that in two of my brothers.”

  “I did not mean to—”

  He waved her apology away. “I’ll be the first to admit I don’t appear to have a nurturing bone in my body.”

  There was something hidden in that statement. A secret or a confession...she wasn’t sure. As though maybe he really did have a nurturing side to him or he did long for children. But how was that possible? A man like Jasper only cared for one thing and one thing alone—himself.

  The image of his name in a book fluttered into her mind. Of course, there were hidden depths to him, but she shouldn’t let herself be fooled.

  “So, Hettie, how exactly are you planning to find your sister once you reach Edinburgh?”

  She dropped a sugar into her tea and stared at it while she stirred. “I...” She lifted her gaze to his. “I’m not sure.”

  The admission cost but she didn’t see that usual smug smile. Instead, he gazed deeply at her—too deeply. It made her stomach twist into a thousand knots.

  “But I don’t need your help,” she spilled out quickly. “You might as well catch a train home once we arrive.”

  “What a waste of a journey.”

  “Well, I’m very sorry to have wasted your time, but I did not ask you to come—”

  “An investigator or two would be helpful. Also I have several friends in Edinburgh...” he murmured, almost to himself.

  “I really do not—”

  “Of course, they’re not really the sort to keep track of runaway young ladies...”

  “My lord,” she tried.

  “Though Emma is a pretty thing. She might have attracted some attention.”

  “You think she is pretty?” It was a foolish question. Emma was pretty. It had never really bothered Hettie before, except when she used her prettiness to charm others. However, something deep and sharp jabbed at her when Jasper mentioned it.

  He waved a hand. “Yes, if you like that sort.” He leaned in. “My point is, the arrival of a pretty young girl in town might have passed someone’s notice.”

  Did he not like that sort of thing? Emma was too young to be a beauty but she would be one day. At six and ten she had a few years to grow into a perfectly proportioned face and willowy figure. With her golden hair and pale skin tone, Emma was guaranteed attention, even if her family were hardly high-society.

  Nevertheless, she hoped Jasper had never paid her attention. She was too young for one, and for two...Hettie almost shook her head to herself. Was she really jealous?

  “We may have to do some footwork.”

  “We?”

  “Yes.”

  “My lord—”

  “Edinburgh is hardly small. Have you been there before?” He didn’t wait for an answer. “It may take some time to track her down but never—”

  “Jasper!” she declared, exasperated.

  “Yes?”

  “I can do this alone. I do not need your assistance.”

  The cups on the tables rattled against their saucers suddenly. Hettie grabbed the edge of the table as wheels screeched against metal tracks. The train came to a shuddering halt and Jasper gripped her arm as if to stop her from falling from her seat. Not that the train had come to that sharp a stop, but Hettie couldn’t stop herself from liking the protective movement.

  “Stay here,” he commanded. “I’ll find out what is happening.”

  Before she could declare she would come with him or show some annoyance at being told what to do, he was gone, along with several other passengers, in the direction of the guard train.

  Hettie peered out of the window but could see nothing amiss. A waiter came to clear their empty plates so she snagged his attention. “What has happened?”

  “Likely something on the track, ma’am. It happens. They’ll have to clear it before we are on our way. Never fear, the delay won’t be long.”

  “Thank you.”

  She turned her attention back to her tea, taking a long sip of the now luke-warm liquid. Perhaps she should accept his help. This was for her sister after all. But a man like Jasper...he was a scoundrel. Who knew what he would do? He’d already stolen a kiss from her. He had to have been teasing, though. She highly doubted he would want anything more.

  She wanted more, a tiny whisper told her.

  Preposterous. She had every intention of remaining respectable, and a man like Jasper would not change that. After all, she was made of sterner stuff. Everyone said as much. No one was as principled and as reliable as Miss Henrietta Foster.

  After a while Jasper returned behind the gentleman who had also gone in search of answers. She heard their disgruntled murmurs of annoyance before Jasper sat.

  “Is all well?”

  He shook his head grimly. “A mechanical problem of some sort. It looks as though there could be some delay and even then, they may have to have the train hauled back to London.”

  “They can send another train surely?”

  He lifted a shou
lder. “I highly doubt they have hundreds of spare trains waiting around for moments like this, Hettie.”

  “Oh dear.”

  “The guardsman tells me there is a village only three miles from here. We could hire a carriage if you wish. Our journey will take longer than intended, but at least we shall be moving in the right direction.”

  Our journey. She sighed. She supposed it would have to be their journey. She did not much fancy trying to find this village alone and she’d have to find a driver too. She’d never driven a carriage before. It was hardly the sort of thing a respectable young woman needed to do.

  “Yes. I think that is what we should do,” she said decidedly.

  “Excellent. Go pack up your belongings and we shall disembark this wounded beast. I shall go ask the guardsman for directions to this village.”

  Hettie did as she was told, wondering quite when it was she had begun to allow him to take charge. But she couldn’t help but be grateful. Had she been on her own, she wasn’t sure what she would have done. Likely remained until they returned to London and begun her journey all over again. Perhaps she would thank him for his help later.

  That was, as long as he didn’t expect a thank you kiss. She certainly had no intentions of kissing him again.

  None at all. Never, ever again. Ever.

  Chapter Seven

  “Nice hat.”

  Hettie put a hand to the feathered, lacy accessory. “I don’t like it.”

  Jasper considered the wide-brimmed, pale pink hat. “It’s much better than that brown thing,” he told her firmly. “You look very pretty in it.”

  Colour appeared on her cheeks, making him want to grin. He probably would if he wasn’t carrying both of their travel bags and her hat box. He looked to the spire of the church in the distance. The village was hardly far away but it felt it while he was carrying such unwieldy burdens.

  “About another two miles,” he muttered, more to himself than anything.

  “Would you like me to take—”

  “Certainly not,” he snapped. He could hardly claim to be a gentleman, but he wasn’t very well going to let a woman carry her luggage.