Fever Dreams

by Nicole Jordan

  Contents

  Title Page

  Dedication Page

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Epilogue

  By Nicole Jordan

  Preview of Touch Me with Fire

  Preview of Wicked Fantasy

  Copyright Page

  In memory of

  my dear friend Gin Ellis.

  I’ll miss you terribly.

  Ryder paused a long moment. “Very well. I will see that Lady Claire gives up any thought of marrying me…on one condition.”

  “Condition?” Eve said cautiously.

  “Come here, sweeting.”

  She tensed with sudden wariness. “Why?”

  “Because I asked you to.”

  His gaze was a bold and steady challenge, capturing hers and holding it without effort. When he simply waited, Eve reluctantly obeyed, moving to stand before him. Ryder tucked an errant tendril of hair behind her ear, letting his fingertips skim the outer rim with the gentlest of caresses.

  Eve stood perfectly still, suddenly unable to move. He left off toying with her ear and shifted his hand so that his thumb stroked along her jaw. Eve became aware of an abrupt weakness in her limbs. “What condition?” she forced herself to say in a voice far huskier than she would have liked.

  “That you spend one night with me.”

  Prologue

  The Isle of Cyrene

  March 1815

  The dream returned unexpectedly, more vivid than ever. Sunlight pouring over the meadow where he lay. Lady Eve in his arms, enveloping him with her warmth and scent and softness.

  The waiting was over. She was his bride at last.

  She belonged to him.

  Cradling her possessively, Ryder shifted onto his back and pulled her body flush against his, making her hair spill down in a gold curtain around them. When she bent to press an ardent kiss on his bare chest, he uttered a harsh groan. In response, Eve smiled her soft, beguiling smile.

  Delight filled him, while all his muscles clenched in anticipation of their joining. As their gazes locked, the very air shimmered with raw passion.

  Bending again, she kissed the line of his jaw, the vulnerable hollow of his throat, his breastbone, searing the flesh that concealed his hammering heart.

  “At last I am yours,” she whispered.

  The husky warmth of her voice stroked him as tenderly as her lips did, caressing him, setting him aflame. Needing to satisfy his fierce hunger, he guided her down until he was buried deep inside her. His blood pulsed feverishly as Eve sheathed him in wet, silken heat. She was bound to him now in the most primal way possible.

  His back arching, Ryder began to move. The sweet surge of her hips matched the thundering of his blood as he drove himself inside her, hard and deep, branding her, claiming her, marking her as his, until their whole world dissolved into hot, pulsing brightness….

  Alex Ryder woke hard and throbbing, his heart’s rhythm slowing as he recognized his familiar surroundings. He lay alone in his bed, bathed in a pool of sunshine. Early morning rays streaming through the tall French windows of his bedchamber flooded him with warmth, yet the heat suffusing his body had far more to do with his erotic, futile dream of Eve.

  One he should have conquered long ago.

  With a quiet curse, Ryder kicked off the tangled sheets—a testimony to his restless fantasies during the night—but continued to lie there, letting the hot sunlight play over his skin while memories burned in his mind.

  His remembrance of Eve was so intense, he could still feel her body’s shape in his arms. He could picture her without closing his eyes, could recall every vibrant detail of her.

  Lady Eve Montlow…now Eve Seymour, Countess of Hayden.

  She was the golden girl of his dreams. Living, breathing sunshine. Indisputably his life had changed because of her.

  His fascination had begun the moment they’d met, when he was sixteen and she was barely eleven. He’d thought her a princess in some imagined fairy tale, with her honey-gold hair and rose-red lips. And then she had smiled at him. He’d felt as if someone had slammed a fist into his gut. Eve had an enchanting smile, so warm it had the power to take his breath away. One smile and he was lost.

  For all the good it did him.

  As the daughter of an earl, Lady Eve was forbidden to him. He’d been a wild, rebellious youth then, and worse, a poor commoner; his late father was a mere soldier. Even though his mother had been a gentlewoman, Eve’s patrician family had considered Ryder dangerous and entirely beneath notice. Indeed, the first time he and Eve met, her noble father had threatened to thrash him for simply daring to help the young lady down from her mount.

  Two days later, Ryder remembered, Eve had boldly escaped her groom and ridden halfway across the island, expressly to seek him out.

  She’d discovered him in his favorite meadow, sprawled beside the stream where he was fishing. She rode a horse far larger and more spirited than was wise for a girl her age, but she easily controlled the prancing bay as she drew rein.

  “Oh, good, I found you. I had almost despaired and thought I would have to return tomorrow—but I knew my groom would never willingly let me out of his sight after the trick I played on him today.”

  Still smarting from his humiliation at her father’s hands, Ryder practically snarled at her. “What the devil are you doing here, my lady? Come to gloat?”

  “Certainly not! I wished to apologize for my father’s unforgivable rudeness to you. Papa has been a bear of late, ever since we were compelled to move to Cyrene from London to escape his creditors. He still clings to the notion that we are socially superior to everyone here on the island, and he won’t countenance anything that threatens his consequence, as you were audacious enough to do yesterday.”

  Ryder stared at her, surprise and wariness battling in his mind. But all he could think to say was “How did you know where to look for me?”

  Young Eve flashed her beguiling, impish smile. “That was easy—I merely listened to gossip and asked questions of the servants. You are the wild boy everyone has warned me about.” But her smile took the sting from her words, Ryder’s first indication that she was as charming and kind as she was beautiful.

  That day not only had cemented their clandestine friendship. From that moment on, he’d set his sights on winning Lady Eve for his own.

  He refused to accept that he couldn’t aspire to her hand because of his lower station. He knew, however, he would have to change his wild, hell-bent ways. And of course he would first have to wait for Eve to grow up. Meanwhile, he would go off to seek his fortune, to make himself worthy of her….

  Uttering a sharp laugh at the memory, Ryder rolled over to bury his head in the pillows. Upon leaving the island two years later, he’d indeed eventually made his fortune. But from Eve’s family’s perspective, his means of acquiring his wealth as a mercenary soldier was yet another strike against him. And his newly won riches had made no difference in his suit. By the time he was able to return to Cyrene, Eve was lost to him. She was being sold in marriage to a wealthy nobleman in order to save her family from destitution.

  That summer, when she was eighteen, Ryder had forcibly taken
one savage, unforgettable kiss from her, and that was all he would ever have. As the wife of the illustrious Earl of Hayden, she was morally beyond his reach. She’d spent the past six years in England, and during all that time, Ryder had studiously avoided her.

  He’d resolutely put Eve out of his mind. She was a youthful obsession, merely that—a boyish infatuation that he’d thankfully outgrown.

  Yet in the dark hours of morning, he still sometimes found his dreams filled with the fantasy of Eve becoming his bride. And unconsciously he continued to hold her up as his ideal.

  It was amusing, really. He was thirty years old now, and rich enough to buy almost any bride of his choosing. But he’d never found any other woman he wanted to marry. He had no permanent mistress, either. Oh, he took his pleasure with various ladies of the evening, but he’d never desired one enough to give her a long-term place in his bed or his life.

  Flinging aside the pillow, Ryder ran a hand down his black-stubbled jaw. He would do better to find a willing siren to regularly slake his passion. Perhaps then he could finally banish his feverish, unwanted dreams of Eve.

  Just then a tentative rap on the door interrupted his dark reverie. When Ryder impatiently bade entrance, the door was opened gingerly by his manservant, Greeves.

  “Begging pardon for disturbing you, sir,” Greeves said, “but you have visitors below.”

  “At this hour?” Ryder asked. It was barely seven, and any of his fellow Guardians would have come straight to his bedchamber to rouse him if the problem was serious enough to warrant calling so early in the day.

  “Yes, sir. It is Mr. Cecil Montlow and Lady Claire. They say they have urgent news of their sister.”

  Ryder’s heart gave a reflexive jolt. “What has happened?”

  “They did not say, sir. Shall I tell them you are at home?”

  “Yes, I’ll be down directly.”

  Trying to stifle his apprehension, Ryder rose and threw a dressing gown over his nude body. Not bothering with trousers or even slippers, he left his bedchamber and swiftly descended the stairs to the drawing room to greet his unexpected guests.

  Eve’s younger siblings, Cecil and Claire, were twins, both tall and fair-haired with elegant, aristocratic features. Yet in personality, they could hardly have been more different. The Honorable Cecil Montlow was outgoing and lively to the point of brashness, while Lady Claire was gentle and shy, and at eighteen, a pale imitation of her older sister, Eve.

  Cecil was currently pacing the carpet while Lady Claire sat primly on the settee, her gloved hands folded in her lap. As Ryder entered the room, she rose and her brother halted in his tracks.

  “What has happened?” Ryder asked, managing a measured tone. “I understand you have news of Eve?”

  “You won’t believe it,” Cecil burst out. “Hayden has kicked the bucket.”

  “Cecil,” Lady Claire chided softly, “you know you shouldn’t use such vulgar cant.”

  “Well, it’s true,” her brother insisted. “And Mr. Ryder understands cant perfectly well.”

  Perhaps he did understand cant, Ryder thought, yet his whirling mind couldn’t quite grasp those particular words. He would swear Cecil had said the Earl of Hayden had died.

  Claire, searching his face, expounded in a quiet voice. “We had a letter from Eve last evening—it came on the packet. His lordship was tragically killed last month in a riding accident.”

  “What she means is,” Cecil added with a touch more remorse than previously, “Lord Hayden crammed his horse at a stone wall during a hunt and broke his neck.”

  Which meant…Ryder felt his heart stop, then slowly begin to thud again. Eve was now a widow.

  He should not be glad to hear of another man’s death, and in truth, he wasn’t. Yet an aching sensation gripped his chest, a strange, quiet burgeoning of emotion that he couldn’t quell.

  Vaguely Ryder realized the twins were still speaking, although he heard only one word in three.

  Cecil apparently was lamenting their unexpected turn of fate. “It isn’t fair that we must suffer simply because Hayden croaked. But now London is out of the question for either of us.”

  “Eve will be in mourning for a full year,” Lady Claire explained, “so my comeout must be postponed until next spring.”

  “But I was to spend this Season in London with my sisters,” Cecil griped, “and gain some town bronze before I head off to university. Now there is no chance. I’m to go straight to Oxford this fall while Claire remains here on Cyrene with Mama and Papa. She’ll join Eve in Hertfordshire next February to begin preparing for her entrance into the marriage mart.”

  “To be honest,” the young lady admitted in a low voice, “I don’t at all mind the delay. Eve is quite skilled at matchmaking and has promised to make my search for a husband as painless as possible, but I still dread being put on display for the London ton to scrutinize.”

  “You are just afraid to be courted by any beaux.”

  Claire flushed while sending her brother a cool glance. “I am not afraid. I am simply nervous among strangers.”

  She tended to stammer when she became nervous, Ryder recalled, so the respite from a formal presentation would undoubtedly be welcome to her. The boy’s disappointment was understandable, however. For the past year and more, Cecil had been champing at the bit to get away from Cyrene—a small island in the western Mediterranean not too distant from the coast of Spain—and have a taste of the glamorous London social life.

  Ryder shook himself and entered the fray. “Mind your manners, halfling. Lady Claire will do very well in London. She’ll have countless beaux eating out of her hand, I have no doubt.”

  Cecil had the grace to look apologetic. “Yes, sir, I am sure you are right. But meanwhile, I have a favor to ask of you, Mr. Ryder.”

  “What favor?”

  “Will you look after Claire while I am away at university? We have never been separated for long, and I would feel better knowing you were championing her. Escort her to the island assemblies, stand up with her at dances, that sort of thing. Help her to become more at ease in company to prepare for her eventual debut. I will worry myself sick otherwise.”

  Ryder returned a wry smile. To the boy’s credit, he cared deeply for his twin and would let no one but himself plague her. The twin’s parents, however, were another matter entirely. “Your parents will object to my associating so intimately with Lady Claire.”

  “No, they won’t, sir. They consider you almost respectable now, since you are a hero and command such distinguished patronage.”

  “I suppose I should be gratified,” Ryder murmured sardonically. He had recently performed a valued service for the British Foreign Secretary, which had earned him several high-powered advocates in the government. But even that couldn’t make up for his notorious past with high sticklers such as Eve’s father.

  “Besides,” Cecil added sincerely, “Claire may need help in standing up to Papa while I am away, and you are not the least afraid of him.”

  Ryder eyed Lady Claire curiously; she in turn was studying him. It surprised him that she remained mute while her brother arranged her future. Claire might be sweet and shy, yet she possessed an unexpected backbone hidden beneath her quiet demeanor, Ryder knew.

  But he smiled graciously and gave her a gallant bow, saying he would be honored to stand her champion while her brother was away in England.

  When he then offered the twins breakfast, Cecil accepted with alacrity, exclaiming that he was famished, but Lady Claire suddenly became aware of Ryder’s state of undress. Her cheeks turned pink as she stammered a polite refusal, insisting that they had imposed long enough. She then marshaled her brother from the drawing room, leaving Ryder alone with his dazed thoughts.

  Crossing to the window, he stared out at the foothills in the distance, which were covered with spring wildflowers. If Eve was now a widow, was it possible she would eventually remarry? And if so, did he want to put himself in the running for her hand?
<
br />   She might not welcome his suit. At their last meeting, his behavior had been less than admirable, for he’d practically assaulted her when he claimed their first kiss.

  The image was burned into his mind. It was the summer he had returned to Cyrene in order to court her.

  For two months he’d taken advantage of Eve’s habit of riding daily over the island, journeying out every morning in order to encounter her in some measure of privacy. He’d managed to renew their friendship and make progress in his campaign to gain her trust and affection. But then came a week when he saw nothing of her. He knew an English earl was visiting her family, but when he began hearing rumors about Lady Eve’s possible betrothal, Ryder sent a servant to her with a message, asking her to meet him in the meadow where he regularly fished.

  He waited impatiently for Eve to come, and when she did, the oddly guilty look on her face told him without words that his dreaded suspicion was correct. Until then, he had never believed she would accept a proposal from anyone but him.

  “So it’s true?” he rasped, his stomach clenching with a feeling of betrayal. “You intend to marry that damned earl?”

  As if to equalize their levels before delivering her answer, Eve dismounted to join him. “It is true that my parents have arranged a marriage of convenience for me.”

  “Whose convenience? Theirs?” Ryder replied savagely.

  “Ryder, it isn’t like that. If you only knew how close Papa is to debtor’s prison…” She broke off, biting her lip. “Lord Hayden means to settle all of our debts, to provide a dowry for Claire, and to fund Cecil’s university schooling as well. And it is considered a brilliant match for me.”

  His anger and frustration spilled over. “What I see is that you’re being sacrificed in order to keep your wastrel father in horses and carriages and fund his ruinous gaming habits.”

  Dismayed, Eve tried to placate him. “Surely you understand that I must marry well, Ryder. I’ve always known that it is up to me to repair our family fortunes. That I would never have the luxury of making any kind of match but one of convenience.”

  “You could marry me instead.”