by Rebecca King
“I am not afraid of anything,” Ryan snorted.
“Really? So, why haven’t you offered for her? Why haven’t you made your intentions clear toward her, and started a courtship with her?”
“You don’t understand,” Ryan sighed.
“I should think I do. How many times have we had this conversation?”
“My father is good friends with hers,” Ryan began.
“Which should make approaching her considerably easier, shouldn’t it? I mean, you don’t have to persuade her father that you are a gentleman who is worthy of his daughter’s hand. He already knows you, so don’t even think about using that as an excuse,” Norman replied. “You aren’t doing anything about her because I think you prefer to worship her from afar. She is unobtainable. You don’t want to take her off the pedestal you have put her onto because it means she will be just like every other female of your acquaintance.”
“Don’t be so preposterous.”
“Why don’t you do something about the way you claim you feel about her then? If you know you love her then nothing should stand in your way. No family would object to having someone like you make their intentions clear, especially hers. You would be marrying beneath you, and her family know it. She should be more than content if she was the one who managed to catch the attention of a man like you, and you know it.”
“It isn’t about wealth and status,” Ryan replied. “I don’t think that means much to her, or her father for that matter. Her father is good friends with mine, but they have always respected their differences in social status. Its an odd sort of friendship but they met when they were young boys and have never forgotten each other.”
“Have you ever thought that maybe you don’t want a romantic relationship with Sian because you have seen the friendship between your fathers?”
“I don’t understand,” Ryan replied.
Norman sighed because even he hadn’t thought that part of his argument through properly yet. “Maybe the friendship your fathers have is something you feel you should replicate with Sian, only it is difficult because she is female, and it is highly unusual for you to have a friendship with a woman like her.”
“It’s nothing like that,” Ryan replied firmly. “This is deeper. It is why I cannot fall in love with anybody else. Other women are irritating, giggle too much, or are petulant and whiny, or bitchy. I cannot abide it. Sian isn’t like that.”
Norman rolled his eyes and sighed when Ryan’s voice faded, and he returned to gazing blindly out of the window once more. He knew his friend was remembering the finer details of Sian’s visage. Leaning forward in his seat, Norman clicked his fingers repeatedly just inches from Ryan’s face.
“Look, she is pretty, I will grant you that. She has connections, although they don’t move in the same lofty circles as yours. Your families know each other, so you don’t have to worry about what her father will think. There is nothing, and I repeat nothing, standing in your way except you. If you want to worship her from afar, you have nobody but yourself to blame if she marries someone else; someone who does have the guts to approach her. It is going to do you no good battling through these nightmares and waking up miserable, alone, and thinking yourself in love with someone you won’t do anything to be with. It seems to me that you are a victim of your own circumstance. If you love her, and you really do believe it is love, then you need to do something about it. I cannot, and nor will she. It is down to you and you only.”
Norman allowed the silence to fall and watched the storm edge ever closer. He suspected that it hadn’t broken over the house yet because Ryan refused to make a move on the woman Norman wasn’t convinced Ryan did love. Until he saw them together, which he had never managed to do, he had no idea whether this was just some flight of fancy, or just Ryan wanting the unobtainable, or genuinely a case of unrequited love.
CHAPTER TWO
Sian followed her sister into the house and lifted her brows when she saw her mother with her ear pressed against her father’s study door. Looking decidedly thoughtful, her mother pressed a finger to her mouth to silence them both. Sian dutifully took great care not to make a sound as she closed the front door and began to remove her shawl.
“Whose there?” Martha mouthed as she jabbed a finger at the study door.
They all jumped when the door was suddenly yanked open. Pushing valiantly at her hair, Mabel pretended she was checking her reflection in the mirror which was, unfortunately, several feet away.
“Oh, are you done dear?” she asked casually.
Arthur scowled at his wife. He knew Mabel had a habit of listening at doors and refused to stop no matter how many times he told her it was rude. She ran the risk of bringing the family into disrepute, especially if any of their guests ever caught her, but she was too nosy to wait to be told what was discussed.
“Yes, Ryan and I have just finished,” Arthur announced to his wife and daughters with a somewhat officious arrogance.
Sian’s stomach flipped when she heard Ryan’s name. She worked hard to keep her face impassive, so she didn’t reveal her true feelings. It was difficult to know how to express how she felt anyway. It was always the same whenever Ryan called at the house. She was plunged into a confusing mix of emotions that left her feeling panicked, shaken, nervous, anxious and wildly thrilled all at the same time. She was delighted yet dreaded having to face him. It was foolish to get in such a state because he hadn’t come to see her at all.
He doesn’t even know I am alive.
“Careful, the cad is about,” Martha muttered out of the corner of her mouth.
Sian elbowed her roughly in the ribs and threw her a warning look.
“What was that, Martha. Eh? Out with it,” their father boomed.
“Nothing, Papa,” Martha replied, her voice a high-pitched, somewhat shrill, taunt. It was tinged with enough defiance to make their father squint suspiciously at her, but the presence of their guest stopped him from taking Martha to task over her conduct.
Arthur stepped out of his office to allow his guest to leave. Sian dutifully dipped into a curtsey when Ryan appeared in the doorway. She looked up in time to watch Ryan snap a brisk bow in their direction. His gaze lingered on the floor for an inordinate amount of time, to the point that Sian and Martha exchanged a somewhat amused look. All trace of amusement died instantly when Ryan then looked up, straight into Sian’s eyes.
Sian gasped. She warned herself that it was rude to stare but was caught in the lure of his dark blue eyes and couldn’t break free. There was something hidden in the depths of his intense stare, but she wasn’t at all sure what it was. Sian instantly began to feel nervous although had no idea why. Ryan’s stare was steady, probing, and far too intent for it to be dismissed. While a part of her was wildly thrilled at the strange sensations he brought forth within her, she was also quietly horrified. It seemed as if he was waiting for something, but Sian had already curtseyed.
Sian allowed her gaze to slide to the floor, especially when she felt a tell-tale shimmer of warmth begin to bloom in her cheeks. Instinctively, though, she looked back up at him. Their eyes met once more. In that moment, Sian began to see a different Ryan to the one who had always visited the house in the past. For the first time since she had met him in her father’s study several years ago now, Sian suspected that Ryan was really something of a predator. There was an intensity in his gaze that made her want to squirm with discomfort. For the first time ever, she felt rather on edge around him, wary.
Hunted.
“Allow me to walk you to your horse,” her father suggested when he became aware of the rather uncomfortable atmosphere that had started to lengthen.
Ryan sucked in a breath and realised then that he had been staring at Sian for far too long. He cursed when he saw her mother’s gaze slid calculatingly from him to Sian and then back again. When Mabel realised that she had drawn his attention, she threw him a false smile which in no way met her gaze.
“Of course, you are w
elcome to dine with us, if you would like?” she offered with a ready smile.
While he wanted to accept, Ryan knew it would be foolish to. Yes, he wanted to spend some time with Sian, but not with her family around, not least because those clawed hands in his dreams still haunted him. If her family objected to their union, they might do everything possible to thwart any romantic connection between him and Sian. Despite their long acquaintance, Ryan still wasn’t at all sure how they would accept the possibility of having him as a son-in-law. Until he could find out whether Sian could feel something for him, Ryan had no intention of even hinting that he might be romantically interested in Mabel and Arthur’s daughter.
“That is very kind, but I have business to attend to,” he announced with another formal bow. “Good day.”
Without even looking at the women again, Ryan stalked out of the hallway. He was aware of the faint atmosphere he charged through that had undoubtedly been caused by his rather brisk behaviour. It made his situation considerably worse than he had ever expected or planned for it to be. The last thing he wanted to do was put the women on edge around him, especially now. He should be doing exactly the opposite if he had any hope of being able to persuade Sian to take a walk with him, but it was too late now.
“Damn,” Ryan growled.
“What was that?”
Ryan paused beside his horse and turned to face the man he knew his father was worried about.
“I am going to have to think over the options,” Ryan offered. “I am afraid father won’t be back at his house for another few weeks yet.”
“I take it he isn’t returning to the main house then?”
“No. He has decided to move into the Dowager’s house. Now that his hip is starting to give him problems, he struggles climbing the main flight of stairs. The stairs in the Dowager’s house aren’t as steep and there aren’t that many. Besides, I think he quite likes the cosier atmosphere in the smaller property,” Ryan explained.
Arthur nodded but looked almost fearful when their gazes met. “Any assistance you might be able to offer would be greatly appreciated.”
While he spoke, Ryan became aware of movement in the doorway behind Arthur. He looked up only to find Sian looking out at him. His gaze lingered on the delectable vision that she made as she stood within the shadows of the entrance hall. Ryan knew she felt obliged to keep the door open because it was rude to close the front door while he was still standing in the driveway. Thankfully, it afforded him a view of the woman who had the ability to plague his thoughts and his dreams. Unfortunately, what he saw did little to dispel them.
When he realised Ryan was staring at something in the house, Arthur looked back and saw Sian.
“They don’t know,” Arthur whispered.
“Best keep it that way,” Ryan suggested.
Arthur stared blankly down the driveway. “I have suggested to Mabel that we need to marry them off. She thinks that Lucinda is too young, but she will be seventeen next year. A few months is hardly going to make all that much difference, is it? If we can find her a suitable suitor, I am sure a few months won’t matter to her future husband either. I know a few bachelors, but they are not really eligible, if you know what I mean?”
Ryan did indeed know what the man meant. Arthur Mullens was in his late fifties. Any ‘eligible’ bachelors Arthur invariably knew would be in their fifties too; far too old for any of his daughters.
“Should you not consider your daughters’ welfare? Marriage with large age gaps between the husband and wife are rarely successful,” Ryan warned. “I take it you have suitors lined up for all of your daughters?”
He felt sick at the thought of Sian effectively being sold off into marriage, but that was what Arthur had in mind for his charges if he couldn’t get out of the current financial mess that he was in. His daughters would have to marry, and marry well, and hopefully to husbands who could help Arthur out financially.
“Sian has adamantly refused to marry but she is going to have to do as she is told.”
Arthur’s tone became so clipped that Ryan wondered if father and daughter had already had an argument over the issue.
“Well, best not to force her,” Ryan offered. “I know an eligible bachelor or two who wouldn’t object to taking her, and they are far more of her age.”
When Arthur’s rheumy gaze lit with interest, Ryan mentally cursed. For the first time ever, Ryan wondered what his father saw in the older gent before him, not least because there was something about Arthur that was a little cold.
I certainly haven’t seen any familial warmth between him and his daughters whenever I have visited.
In contrast, Ryan’s relationship with his father was on more of a friendly basis. He valued and respected his father, with whom he had a warm loving relationship.
I wonder if father knows what his friend is truly like?
Making a mental note to discuss it with his sire when he did return from his travels, Ryan returned to glaring somewhat accusingly at Arthur, who once again began to explain how much he needed to sell his shares in Ryan’s cotton mill, and at a fair price too.
“But you still need to sell your daughters,” Ryan mused in a tone that was unapologetically disgusted.
Arthur blinked at him. “Well, I am not selling them exactly. They need to be married.”
“Having them off your hands isn’t necessarily going to answer your problems, though, is it?” Ryan challenged.
Arthur frowned at him, as if disliking being questioned on his callous attitude towards using his daughters as something that he needed to sell to better his own achievements in life.
“They are not shares in a cotton mill,” Ryan warned.
“I never once suggested that they are,” Arthur snapped, clearly affronted.
Ryan nodded, but made no attempt to placate the man. He didn’t care if Arthur was offended. To him, that was exactly how Arthur was treating his daughters; as something to off-load as readily as he was trying to sell his shares in the factory.
“My, isn’t he handsome?” Mabel murmured, peering over Sian’s shoulder at the man who was deep in conversation with her father.
“Father?” Sian teased.
Mabel rolled her eyes. “Lord Carson of course, you goose.”
She waggled her fingers when Ryan looked their way again.
Sian struggled not to smile when Ryan blinked, looked at her, coughed and shifted uncomfortably before refocusing on Arthur.
“What did you expect him to do? Waggle his fingers back at you?” Sian teased her mother.
“There is no problem with being polite with the man.” Mabel, being somewhat smaller in stature than her daughter, had to stand on tiptoe. Consequently, she was practically leaning on Sian, who still clung to the front door.
“Shouldn’t we move?” Sian lifted her brows at her mother, who was craning her neck to see better.
“What? Oh, no. We are perfectly fine here.”
“He is going to think we are awfully rude.” Sian found it far too distracting to remain where she was but suspected that if she moved her mother would fall over.
“Don’t you think he is handsome?” Mabel asked again as if Sian hadn’t just spoken.
“I suppose so,” Sian edged.
“You suppose so? Lord Carson is the most eligible bachelor in the county. He is wealthy and has a title. I hear he has connections in the Royal Court.”
“You mustn’t believe everything you hear, mother,” Sian chided. “Why does his connections have anything to do with him? I mean, he might be an ogre at home. How do you know he doesn’t suffer from stinky feet or something?”
Rather than dismiss her and walk away in a huff like Sian wanted her to do, Mabel studied Ryan even more closely.
“Does he look like he has smelly feet to you?” she mused. “Besides, when you have someone as handsome as he is in your home, does it matter?”
“It would if you had to live with him,” Sian replied with an inelegant sn
ort.
“Who said anything about living with him?”
Sian groaned when her mother’s eyes lit with glee.
“I say, Sian. Are you considering Ryan Terrell as a suitor?”
Sian snorted quite inelegantly again. “He wouldn’t give me the time of day.”
“Do you not think he is handsome, though?”
“I suppose, if you like the dark and brooding type,” Sian replied, putting all her effort into sounding as bored as it was humanly possible to be.
Every fibre of Sian’s being was locked on Ryan, who stood bathed in summer sunshine like some bronzed god. Ryan was tall, broad shouldered, with dark brown hair which, when bathed in sunlight as he was looked to have faint flecks of red streaking through it. Startlingly, his piercing dark blue eyes were locked on them. Unless she was grossly mistaken, he appeared to be scrutinising them as much as they were studying him.
“We are staring,” Mabel whispered, without taking her gaze off him. “He is going to think we are awfully rude.”
“You are awfully rude,” Sian corrected, forcing herself to study the flowers beside the door.
“Do you not like him, though?”
“I shouldn’t know,” Sian sniffed with acute disinterest. “He hates me.”
“Oh, don’t be a goose. That man couldn’t hate anybody. Why, he was polite and said ‘hello’ to you just now, didn’t he?”
“Yes, but only because you were all here. Whenever we cross paths in the village, which isn’t very often thank the Lord, he is always cold and aloof. He behaves like he has smelt something he finds offensive and is eager to get away from,” Sian sighed.
While she spoke, she made her way over to the coat hooks hanging beside the door and removed her bonnet. She was so engrossed in what she was doing that it took her a moment to realise that a shadow had fallen over the hallway. With her mouth open to remind her mother that Ryan only visited the house to talk business with their father, she realised that the object of the discussion was now listening to what was being said.
