“Helping you?” she replied, a question in her voice.
He gave her a hard glare. “I wasn’t talking to you, actually. I will deal with you after I take care of him.”
Another man ran up just behind Ryker. “Did you catch him?”
He was an older gentleman, though spritely of form, and his keen gaze swept over her in a way that made her feel as though he’d just learned all of her secrets.
“Yes, Mr. Hart, this is him. Tie his hands and then check his right front pocket.” Ryker waved the pistol in the general direction of the man’s chest.
Mr. Hart did as he was told with an efficiency that made Tricia swallow. She wouldn’t want to be on the receiving end of his brutal capability.
Once tied, Mr. Hart turned the man over and reached into his pocket. From it he withdrew a small satchel. “Is this what you’re looking for?”
“Yes,” Ryker replied.
At the same moment, the man lying on the ground finally spoke. “You can’t take my personal possessions.”
“Actually, it’s you, sir, who took mine.” Ryker took the sack from Mr. Hart. After pulling its tiny string open a lovely ruby necklace tumbled out onto his palm.
She gasped, and then covered her mouth as he tucked the piece of jewelry back into the satchel and then closed it, tucking it into his pocket.
Together he and Mr. Hart hauled the other man to his feet. Ryker turned to her. “I’ll be back in just a few moments. Do yourself a favor, for once, and hide.”
He didn’t wait for her response. He seemed sure she’d obey as they began marching the man down the street.
Tricia backed herself into the shadows. She knew Ryker was a Lord, or perhaps the son of titled gentleman so why was he chasing thieves who’d stolen very expensive jewels? She couldn’t help but wonder despite having promised not to ask. As she prepared herself to wait he returned, striding into the alley and hauling her to her feet with no more grace then he had the thief. “Tricia,” he hissed.
“Ryker,” she returned, her hands resting on her hips, her irritation bubbling to the surface.
“Don’t give me guff. What the bloody hell are you doing here again?” he growled, stepping closer to her.
“I wanted to speak with you,” she murmured, a little less irritated. He was likely right to be angry. It was folly to be here.
He searched her face with dark, penetrating eyes until her insides squirmed with a restlessness that near left her breathless. “Why?”
She huffed a breath, more to clear her head than express her irritation. His presence was making her forget all sound reasoning. “Fenton.” She only managed the single word.
“What about him?” Ryker wrapped an arm around her, propelling her forward in the exact route they had taken the evening before. It was almost familiar, comfortable.
She rubbed her temples to try and make her mind remember the conversation they were having. “You don’t know who I am, I don’t know who you are. How will you tell me if you’ve found him?”
His carriage pulled in front of them, as if it were summoned from thin air and he snapped open the door and near pushed her inside. Then he gave the exact address where he’d dropped her the night before. Climbing in, he sat across from her. “I’ve already found Fenton, delivered him to a sanitarium for treatment, and left you a note via the orphanage. It will likely be delivered to you first thing in the morning.”
“What?” She blinked, her muddled brain trying to process what he’d said. Relief made her limp and a joy made her breath catch even as her mind attempted to catch up to her body’s reaction.
He sighed then. “I’ve found him and—” But he couldn’t finish because she launched herself across the carriage and onto his lap, her hands wrapping around his neck.
“Thank you,” she cried as she pressed her body to his. As her chest crushed against his, she became aware of her error in judgment. First, because in the absence of skirt, petticoats, and corsets, she could feel every hard line of him. Every muscle and deliciously firm angle that fitted against her softer curves. It was divine, and the ache she’d experienced in his company thrummed between her legs. It was then that she understood the flutter of excitement she always felt around him.
It was lust. Dear lord, she’d never experienced anything like it. She’d felt a few flutterings but those hardly compared. This coursed through her making her heart race and her thoughts a jumbled mess.
He did not return the gesture. His hands remained stiffly at his side, his face pressed back against the seat to gain some distance from her.
“Tricia,” he growled again, a warning in his voice.
She swallowed hard and sat back slightly. A new emotion adding to her confusion: humiliation. Of course he didn’t find her awkward dive into his lap attractive. What man would? She was no beauty and she already knew that her options for a husband would be very limited. And how many of those suitors would understand her desire to work outside of her home in orphanages and soup kitchens? It was part of the reason she’d decided to remove herself from the marriage market. “I am so very sorry. That was terribly inappropriate. I don’t know what I was thinking.” Then, realizing she was still on his lap, she started to attempt to scramble off. But her limbs simply wouldn’t work correctly and somehow, her legs became tangled in his.
“Bloody hell,” he mumbled this time and her cheeks flamed in her embarrassment. How could this be happening?
Pushing off his chest, she managed to get one foot solidly on the floor. “Just give me a moment—” but she stopped talking when something poked her derriere. Was that…
Her eyes flew to his as she froze in place. She was no longer mortified but still equally uncertain of what to do. Her sister had explained the general mechanics of what happened between a man and a woman. Her mother would never be up for such a task.
“Are you innocent?” His voice had taken on a gravelly tone that somehow made the ache inside sharpen. She had the urge to rub her behind against his member to see what would happen.
Instead, she nodded her answer, not moving at all. “Yes,” she finally managed to whisper.
His hands came to her hips, and for a moment, rested there. It seemed to Tricia that he squeezed them, pressed her tighter to himself before he gently lifted her away from him, setting her on the bench next to him. “I thought so.” He sighed again. “A different man other than myself would have taken advantage of you.” He shook his head, rubbing his temples. “I’ve never met a woman who so completely lacked the ability to keep herself safe.”
Her body was still thrumming with need. Part of her wanted to return to his lap while the other, more sensible part, knew what a mistake that would be. The thought calmed her and she managed a little sniff. “Up until now, I’ve been the good daughter.”
A rumbling sound ripped from his throat and her eyes flew to his again. What in the world was that? But as another and then another followed, she realized he was laughing. “Are you poking fun at my expense, sir?”
He shook his head, trying and failing to speak as he laughed. “I am…trying…to….imagine a family…where you…are the reasonable…child.”
A laugh of her own bubbled in her throat. Not because what she’d said had been terribly funny but because his laugh had the rusty sound of someone who rarely used it. And it felt so good to laugh. It had surely been weeks. “I can’t disagree with you there.” She wiped a tear from her eye as their laughter finally subsided. “Thank you, Ryker, for helping with my cousin. It is a debt I am not sure how to repay, especially because I don’t know who you really are,” she hurried to add. “Not that I am asking.”
He made to reply, but she placed her finger over his lips. She didn’t mean to, but they were so soft and welcoming that she gave them a light caress tracing the outline. “And thank you for keeping me safe and helping me to forget, even for a few minutes, all that is happening outside this carriage. I am fortunate to have met you.”
The carriage
rumbled to a stop and Tricia hopped off the seat. She didn’t want to hear his return remark. She’d given him her honest thanks and part of her was afraid he’d reject it. Opening the door, she made a dash out of the carriage. “Goodbye, Ryker,” she said just before she snapped the door closed.
Fenton had been found, her sister would arrive tomorrow to help with her father. It made her heart ache a little to think that she’d likely never see him again.
Chapter Four
Ryker blinked as the door shut in his face. Not very many people got the best of him like that. She hadn’t allowed him to get a word in edgewise. Actually, that wasn’t true. He’d been stunned into silence by her touch, the honesty of her words.
The feel of that glorious backside pressed up against him.
Bloody hell, the smell of her. He’d caught the scent last night. Honey and cloves with a hint of a deeper musk. But pressed up against him, it had been divine.
She was trouble. A little red-haired hellion who didn’t have any regard for convention or safety.
She was also sweet, honest, and forthright. Generous in her affection. Kind to a fault. She’d make an excellent mother.
A man could do far worse.
He closed his eyes remembering the feel of her. He could do so much worse. He thought of his eventual need to join society in order to find a wife. An heir was required of him. It made him shudder to think of it. He liked being alone, preferred solitude and order. Which was part of the reason he hadn’t sought a match.
And his one other attempt at courting had failed miserably.
And while he’d intended to put marriage off, it would be difficult to find another woman of Tricia’s caliber. In addition, he wouldn’t have to go through the nonsense of participating in a season.
He ignored the voice within him that said it was more than a matter of merits. There was a part of him that liked the chaos she brought, the excitement, the emotion that was inserted into his predictable world.
No, this would be a business transaction. He’d tried and failed at love once, thinking that his affection was returned. He wouldn’t make that mistake again. If he did this at all, he would gain a wife that would pleasurably provide him with children and in return…what would Tricia want?
But he knew the answer. He would provide her with all the funds she would need to start charity programs of her choosing. Allow her the ability to do the work she wanted while still having a family of her own. It was a beneficial arrangement for both of them.
Provided she agreed to stop wandering the streets of London at night. That simply wouldn’t do.
The carriage pulled into his drive. He’d consider it tonight and have Mr. Hart find out her identity. It would be an easy task, considering he already knew her cousin, the orphanage her sister owned, and the address at which she resided.
Then he could make his decision.
With that in mind, he took the steps into him home two at a time. Striding through the door, the butler bowed. “Your Grace,” he murmured.
Ryker gave him a nod and continued up the stairs. Some sleep was in order. Tomorrow would be a full day.
Ryker rose early, and prepared himself in the usual fashion. It was the same routine every day. He penned a note to Mr. Hart, requesting his presence that afternoon. Not only did he want to discuss Tricia but they had their original matter to resolve. Mr. Hart had delivered the thief he’d caught last night to the Bow Street runners. It had likely been a long night and he wanted the man to get some rest.
There was still a great deal of work to be done, because while they had caught the man who had been stealing from Ryker’s ships, he was surely a hired thief, working for someone else.
The question was who? Ryker delivered English goods all over the world. But recently he’d been shipping jewels for the Prince Regent himself. He suspected they were for a mistress, which accounted for the secrecy, but how had the thief known the exact ships on which the jewels had been? While he’d recovered the necklace last night, the bracelet had been lost the night before and ear bobbles the week before that.
Someone who knew the inner workings of his business was behind this.
He did best puzzling over these matters when he moved, and so he took himself out for a walk. The day was dreary but he didn’t mind. He’d stop for a cup of tea if he needed to warm himself.
After several blocks, he did exactly that. Stepping into a shop, he caught the scent of cloves and tea, laced with honey. It smelled divine and though he’d tried to keep his thoughts on the espionage at foot, he was immediately reminded of his red-haired troublemaker.
He grinned but then sobered. He wondered briefly if it was a bad idea after all to take her as a wife. She was invading his thoughts in a most disconcerting way. But perhaps once he’d bedded her he could be more rationale?
And then they could go about the business of a productive, mutually beneficial marriage.
But his thoughts were interrupted. Just ahead of him, about to sit was a woman with red auburn curls. Loose wisps formed about her head like a halo and while he couldn’t see her face, he’d recognize that hair anywhere. She turned slightly to speak with the man she was with and it confirmed that it was, indeed, his Tricia.
The man replied and then placed his hand at her back, his lips subtly brushing her temple. He was tall and broad with dark hair and a muscular build. Jealousy ripped through Ryker. Followed quickly by anger. She’d lied when she’d said she was innocent.
And he’d been a fool to ever think of taking her to wife. She’d been prowling about the streets at night, of course she wasn’t innocent. But he’d believed her. This is why he kept to himself.
He stormed up behind the couple, an anger he rarely felt coursing through him. He didn’t stop to examine the emotion. He did not get upset when business deals fell through and that was what this was, wasn’t it?
But as he reached the couple, his voice growled out, “Tricia.”
She turned her head toward him, surprise lighting her face. He had a moment of triumph that he’d caught her and exposed her lie when a bell rang in his head. Something was wrong. The nose, the mouth, the shape of the chin…
“How do you know my sister?” the woman demanded. “Who are you that you’d use her given name?”
And then she came about to stand before him. The man she was with turned as well and that was when Ryker realized her figure was far fuller than Tricia’s. He wondered if she might be with child.
“Your Grace?” The man’s voice pulled his eyes away as he stared, horrified, at the face so like Tricia’s but clearly different. He’d done it now, announced his relationship with her to her family. It’s a good thing he’d been considering marriage. Because this would bring a great many questions.
“Sussex?” his strangled voice ripped from his throat as several details clicked into place. Tricia’s sister was the Countess of Sussex, daughter to the Duke of Waverly. Tricia was the second daughter to the duke, who, even Ryker knew, had fallen ill.
He also knew that Sussex had been considered a blackguard until marriage when a little red-headed wallflower had tamed the beast. At least that’s what the men at his gentlemen’s club claimed. He hadn’t cared a wit. In fact, having several joint business ventures with the man, he’d enjoyed Sussex’s new attentiveness to his business at their joint venture meetings through the club. He didn’t socialize with the men outside of those meetings, preferring to keep them professional.
But now, the stories about Sussex all made so much more sense. Of course, it was Tricia’s sister that had brought an errant rake to his knees.
“Your Grace?” the countess repeated. “Well, Your Grace,” he heard her slippered foot stomp on the floor as she drew out his title. “You have yet to answer my question.”
Her face was set in rigid lines, her shoulders straight as she assessed him with a gaze that would have withered a lesser man.
He could almost have laughed, if it were at all appropriate. He f
ound Tabbie’s demands for answers rather endearing actually, they reminded him of Tricia and her unfailing desire to put herself out for her family members. “Tricia said you were the more tenacious of the two of you. I suppose I didn’t believe her but it stands to reason I should have. Though she is troublesome, she doesn’t seem to be prone to exaggeration.”
“Troublesome?” the countess repeated, her voice rising. “I suggest you start explaining.”
“Tabbie,” Sussex’s gentle voice soothed his wife. “I’m sure His Grace has a perfectly good explanation.”
Tabbie turned to her husband and Ryker watched as they exchanged a look that spoke more than any he had ever witnessed. Love, trust, understanding passed between the couple as Luke reached for her gloved hand, grasping it in his own. “I’ve worked alongside His Grace for years and have always known him to be a man of honor. He is far more trustworthy than I ever was.”
Tabbie cleared her throat. “I apologize if I implied you were not trustworthy, Your Grace. But it has been a trying time for my family and I am worried about my sister.”
“As well you should—” he started but a hand at his arm stopped him.
“Ryker?” Tricia’s voice sent a tingle of excitement racing down his spine. He turned to see her standing next to him, her hand resting on his arm. Another young woman stood just behind her, her face etched in surprise. He could only assume this was her companion. Without thought, he tucked Tricia’s gloved fingers into his elbow.
“What are you doing here?” she asked.
He quirked an eyebrow then. “I might ask you the same.”
She leaned in, her voice dropping to a whisper. “You’re speaking with my sister.”
“I’m aware,” he whispered back. “I mistook her for you.”
“Oh.” Her eyes grew positively huge in her face and he wanted to laugh again. Something about her forthright emotions brought out a joy in him he hadn’t experienced in years. Not since the death of his father and his debauched attempt to court Lady Amelia Hart. He reined himself back in. Emotion had little to do with why he wished to court her. At least, he told himself that. Emotion was how he’d gotten hurt all those years ago.
My Duke's Seduction (Wicked Lords of London Book 1) Page 3
