Sinful Cravings (Cynfell Brothers Book 4)

by Samantha Holt

  She pressed her chest to his and he dragged a hand down to clasp her waist. In spite of her corset, he could feel the give of flesh there, imagine how warm and soft she would be beneath the layers. He released a small groan and she answered it with a whimper.

  Jasper let his fingers slip far enough down to find the curve of her hip. Images of her without her tight skirts and prim shirts assaulted him. He recalled the way her curves had pressed against her shift that night on the train and pictured those hips pressed against his skin.

  His arousal throbbed hard against his trousers, removing any logical thought from his mind. Hettie followed him down the river of passion, pressing her hands beneath his jacket to curve her arms around him and hold him close. He tasted every part of her mouth as they clashed again and again. He wasn’t sure he could ever get enough of her. Her mouth had some strange, drugging effect on him.

  He gripped her hip tight and she moaned. Jasper slipped a hand upward, aware that one small feel of her wasn’t enough. His fingertips found the edge of her breast spilling out of her corset. When she merely moved into his touch, he moved his hand farther and cupped the swell of flesh that had molten lust pounding through him.

  “Bloody hell,” he muttered before coming back down for a kiss.

  He squeezed and moulded her breast while she writhed against him, pleading for more with her body. He broke the kiss long enough to unbutton her shirt and see the creamy rise of her breasts. They were so plentiful, he had no problem urging one out of her corset and undergarments so he could view one rosy nipple.

  “Bloody hell,” he murmured again, drawing out the word.

  He bent to kiss that enticing tip and then kissed again. When he drew it into his mouth she gasped his name in surprise.

  He was willing to bet no one had ever done this to Hettie Foster. No one had touched her like he had. No one had tasted her. What a waste. And yet, that thought should have been enough to bring a cold wash of reality over him.

  But it did not.

  It only fired him further. Untouched, inexperienced. He wanted to touch her, to bring her pleasure, to mark himself on her so that no man ever touched her again. He did, indeed, want to ruin her. Not for society but for any other man. He wanted her to think of no one but him. Forever.

  “Jasper, please,” she begged.

  The haze snapped away. She wanted more. That’s what she was begging for. But they were on a cart and Hettie was an innocent. She had just acted with such bravery and courage and risked her life for him. She deserved better than this. Rogue that he was, he wasn’t inclined to taking virgins on old, battered carts.

  He didn’t break away as quickly as he really wanted to. She needed a few moments to gather her senses and the last thing he wanted to do was upset her further. The last thing he really wanted to do was release her. But soon enough she’d realise what she had done with a man of which she thoroughly disapproved. Soon she’d regret every moment of craziness.

  He wouldn’t, though.

  One kiss to the corner of her mouth. Then one to her cheek. Another to her forehead as he eased up her corset and buttoned up her shirt. Disappointment flickered in her gaze but she could have no idea how hard this was for him. No idea how much he wanted to tear off her clothes and bring her to the edge. This wasn’t about the chase. It wasn’t even about the final destination.

  This was about Hettie.

  “We should get moving if we wish to make to the train station in time.”

  She nodded slowly, shifting in her seat to face the front.

  Jasper should have left it at that but he couldn’t resist slipping a hand into hers as he spurred on the horse. She curled her fingers around his and leaned against him once more. His heart gave a little flex. He shook his head to himself. What a damned fool he was.

  Chapter Ten

  They were lucky enough to arrive twenty minutes before a train to Scotland. They would need to change once but they’d be in Edinburgh by nightfall. Jasper managed to get back a little of his money for the horse though Hettie suspected the cart would never be used again unless for firewood.

  She was going to owe this man a fortune at this rate, and she had no way of paying him back. Her own money had barely covered the cost of the ticket on the sleeper train. She hadn’t quite figured out how she would fund her stay in Scotland or get them home but she would have managed. However, without Jasper, it would have been a lot harder.

  He had his hand to her back again, the movement slightly possessive as they manoeuvred through the crowds to get on the train. When they were finally sat, his leg brushed hers and flashes of memories struck her. No man had ever kissed her...there. No man had ever kissed her like that in the first place. Today had been quite the adventure. She waited for the regret to strike. For the shame to hit in, and yet it never did. All she could think was that she wanted to experience more. Jasper made her feel alive.

  While the events of the day had certainly frightened her, it also filled her with new courage. She had taken on a highwayman and won. Then a famous rogue had kissed her. Not only kissed her but touched her. And then he’d...he’d put his mouth on her nipples.

  Sweet Lord, it was the most amazing thing she’d ever experienced.

  Jasper remained quiet for much of the journey. She wondered if he was regretting their encounter.

  Perhaps.

  And if she had been in more of a melancholy mood, she might have thought it was because she compared so poorly to other women of her acquaintance but she didn’t believe so. He had to be a wonderful actor indeed to fake the way his eyes had lit up when he eased her breast out or to groan with such desire at the taste of her. What would be the point in acting? If he hadn’t wanted her, he could have easily assuaged her with a comforting embrace.

  By the time they reached the next station and changed trains, the rush had left her and her headache from the wine returned. She grimaced when a group of particularly noisy people walked past their carriage. Thankfully they decided not to join them, leaving them alone for the rest of the journey.

  “You’re tired,” Jasper said.

  “Yes. I have a headache.”

  “Here, turn around.” He urged her to put her back to him.

  “Jasper, what—”

  His thumbs came to the back of her head, pressing to her hairline and then down to the top of her spine. He worked at the muscles there for some time and Hettie felt herself almost falling into each touch. Her body grew languid and the pounding in her head eased somewhat.

  “You are very good at that.” She regretted the words. He was good with his hands because he used them a lot—on other women.

  “Do you feel any better?”

  “A little, yes. Thank you.” She moved away from his touch, the moment spoiled by the thoughts of those many, many other women.

  “How are feeling after...earlier?”

  “I’m fine.” Hettie stared ahead at the seat opposite and counted the buttons on the fabric in her head. She sensed him still looking at her. “Do not worry, Jasper. I won’t be demanding marriage off you. It was only a kiss.”

  “I meant after the robbery.”

  “Oh.” She offered him a quick smile. “Yes, I am fine. I’m sure he is suffering more, knowing he was humiliated by a woman.”

  “Ah, but not just any woman. You are an astonishing creature, Hettie. I’ve never met anyone like you.”

  She didn’t know if that was a good or a bad thing. Women like her simply did not spend time with rogues and the upper echelons of society. They remained in their country homes, devoting their time to others so that they could forget that they were lonely. She had few friends, she supposed, only the children and the women at the orphanage. She tried to picture returning home and telling them of her adventures but failed. In fact, she wasn’t quite sure what she had. Principles, morals. Her steady upbringing. They didn’t seem to count for much now, particularly not when she’d let a man like Jasper kiss her nipples!

  �
��I hope we find Emma quickly,” Hettie said, feeling the need to remember exactly what this was about.

  It wasn’t so she could experience Jasper Cynfell kissing her nipples or so she could frighten a highwayman. It was for her sister. Lord only knew what trouble she could be in. And what if that man had joined her and they were already married?

  She thought it more likely Emma was lost and alone. Emma needed her and Hettie needed to be there for her.

  “We shall. I shall start my search for her tomorrow morning. I’m sure it won’t take long.”

  “Your search? I must help too. And how can you be so confident? Young girls must be lost in cities like Edinburgh all the time.”

  “I have plenty of contacts. I’ll find her,” he told her determinedly, ignoring her declaration of wanting to join the search.

  Hettie didn’t argue. She was too tired to. Tomorrow she’d face him and tell him he wasn’t going to leave her behind. Emma would need her sister at her side.

  As she watched the passing countryside and thought of Emma, scared and alone, her lids grew heavy. She found herself wavering toward Jasper as if drawn by a magnetic force.

  “Rest on me,” he murmured.

  She couldn’t help it—the temptation was too great. It felt so nice to have someone care for her, even if it was temporary. She drifted off to sleep while her mind clouded with a mix of memories, or perhaps some of them were dreams. She thought of Jasper and his kisses and then of him doing more, of his fingers finding her secret spot and bringing her more pleasure than she was ever able to. If she’d have been properly awake she might have felt ashamed but she was too tired to feel shame so she only revelled in it—revelled in a world where people like Jasper Cynfell adored women like her.

  ***

  They arrived in Edinburgh shortly after four o’clock. The autumn evening was darkening but the streets were still busy. Jasper retrieved their luggage but couldn’t find a porter to take it to a cab. He’d already informed Hettie they were staying in The George Hotel and that she had no choice on the matter. She made some vague noise about it being too expensive and she’d have to pay him back but thankfully for him, she was too tired to make too much fuss.

  Once they reached the hotel, he planned on having a meal sent up to her and would ensure she had an early night. He couldn’t quite say why—particularly given how this woman had taken on a highwayman and won—but he wanted to look after her.

  He wanted more than that, he suspected.

  Jasper’s admiration for Hettie grew by the hour. No, the minute. He’d never met anyone so selfless and so headstrong. Hettie Foster didn’t care for what others thought and that appealed to him greatly. Most women of his acquaintance spent most of their time preening and worrying on what others thought of them.

  “Let us find a carriage,” he called to her over the crush of people. He escorted her out of the train station with difficulty as the crowds pushed and surged like waves on a beach. He very nearly got washed away in them until they burst out into the street. Jasper scowled. No carriages were waiting outside the station.

  When he glanced down the street, he realised why. The road was blocked by demonstrators.

  “What is going on?” Hettie asked, rising up on tiptoes. No doubt she was able to hear the chanting even if she couldn’t see it.

  “A demonstration. Looks like workers.” He narrowed his gaze at the signs and nodded to himself. The boards were painted with declarations of needing more money or better working conditions.

  And unfortunately they were blocking the road they needed to take to get to the hotel. They were also coming closer, marching with determination.

  “Let us see if we can find a carriage.” He grasped her arm and led her along the road in the other direction. His heart sank when another group of workers revealed themselves to be marching up in that direction too. It looked as though the two groups intended to meet before continuing on their demonstration. Using her arm as leverage again, he began to walk them back to the station.

  “We had better wait it out at the station.”

  She nodded, her eyes wide as the crowds closed in around them. Jasper fought to drag them through but the masses were thick and unyielding. Angry shouts rattled his ears and his grip around Hettie’s arm slipped. He twisted and fumbled to grab her again but all he could see was her hat. He shoved a man aside and turned back.

  “Hettie.”

  Bloody hell, he’d lost her. He scanned the spot she’d been in and couldn’t even see her feathers now. The woman was too small. “Hettie,” he tried again but his voice was lost to the din.

  Bitterness began to burn in his gut. God, now he’d lost her and her sister. He’d failed them both. He continued to push his way through the crowd, searching frantically for her. Every time he saw a flash of blue—the colour of her jacket and hat—he forced his way over, only to be disappointed.

  Goddamn it. The crowds eased away, leaving the road strewn with pamphlets. The carriages began to filter back down the road so Jasper had to retreat to the pavement. Had she been swept along with the demonstrators? Harmed in some way? If she’d have been trampled, he’d have spotted her surely. There were no injured people lying in the road or propped up against one of the buildings. Jesus, he hoped she was unharmed. He’d never forgive himself. Never.

  He took the time to search the area again and paused to check the station. Jasper considered that maybe she had taken shelter in there as planned but couldn’t see how she would have made it through the crowds. She was too small, too vulnerable. He should have protected her better. When he found her…if he found her...

  Jasper curled a fist. He had to. How could he go a day without seeing Hettie Foster? It was almost incomprehensible. Somehow that woman had burrowed under his skin and he needed her.

  He needed her. Christ.

  Jasper wandered the streets of Edinburgh for several hours. Sickness churned in his stomach. If she was outside, in a strange city, not even her umbrella could save her. Not to mention, she didn’t even have it. He still had their luggage. Hettie had nothing.

  Putting down the bags, he took a moment to scrub a hand over his face and find his bearings. He wasn’t far from the hotel. He’d be better off finding a room and at least depositing these bags so he could walk quicker. If he was to wander the streets all night, so be it.

  The golden glow of the windows enticed him in. Really he longed for a bath and a hot meal, but not until he found Hettie. He paused in the doorway to reposition the hatbox as it nearly slipped from his grip and squinted at the luxurious surroundings. A chandelier hung from the entrance way and marbled floors shone underfoot. Several recesses held busts of famous Scots, if he recalled correctly. He had a few friends in Edinburgh so it wasn’t his first time staying here.

  A few friends he hoped he could call on for help, if needed. First to help him find Hettie, then to inform him of any charitable institutions who might offer aid to someone like Emma. He had strong suspicions Emma would seek aid from them once she realised Brandon had no intention of sweeping her off her feet.

  Should he have told Hettie about her? The woman was going to be angry with him when she found out he knew more about her sister’s situation than she did. But what was the sense in worrying her unnecessarily? It was better they found her first. Then she could be mad at him.

  That was if he ever found Hettie.

  “Jasper.”

  Great, now he was hearing things.

  “Jasper!”

  He flicked his attention to the scattering of tables and chairs that would have looked more at home outside a Parisian restaurant than in a hotel in Scotland, and he froze. The bags fell from his numb fingers as relief washed through him. Jasper fumbled to grab them and hurried over to her.

  “Hettie, what in the devil—?”

  She eyed him calmly over the brim of her cup as though nothing unusual had just occurred, as though he hadn’t been scared beyond his wits. She took a sip of her tea and plac
ed the cup and saucer down.

  “It’s about time—”

  He dropped the bags next to her chair and hauled her up by her arms. “Thank God. I thought I’d lost you.”

  She laughed. “Jasper...”

  He wrapped his hands around her face and kissed her hard on the mouth. He cared little for who saw. All that mattered was Hettie was safe and in his arms.

  “Jasper!”

  “Forgive me.” He released her. “I thought you would be lying dead in the streets somewhere. I was about to head back out and search for you.”

  “You’ve been searching for me this whole time?”

  “Well, yes.”

  “I assumed you would have figured out I’d go straight to the hotel. I did not see much sense in wandering the streets and getting lost.”

  Jasper chuckled. “Of course you didn’t. You are the most sensible woman I know. I should have realised.”

  “Well, you must be tired. Do you want to have a cup of tea?”

  “Perhaps we should go to our rooms first.”

  “Yes.” She ran her gaze over him. “You look weary.”

  He shook his head in dismay. Weary wasn’t the word. About five decades older, more like. He’d never felt so terrified in his life. Which confirmed something that had been creeping up on him since he’d met Hettie.

  He was falling for her.

  Chapter Eleven

  Jasper arranged it so that their rooms were next to each other. His protectiveness touched Hettie. The relief on his face when he’d spotted her in the hotel entrance had made her heart sing. Was it at all possible that Jasper cared for her? Perhaps she was just one more in that long line of women but she didn’t think so. If she was, he’d have had her in bed by now. Or tried at the very least. She was hardly going to give up her virginity to a rogue, but she wouldn’t have put it past him to try.