Her Reluctant Viscount (Rakes and Rogues) (12 page)

Despite the gravity of this situation, he found a slight grin on his face. “So, you of course claimed her as your wife.” Was it his imagination or did Royce blush?

“Crazy woman would have gotten herself hurt or worse, by herself.”

Personally, he was not so sure about that anymore. He had severely underestimated Jo and apparently, Clara was made of more than first glance told a person. “You can get her home?”

“Of course. Are you staying?”

“For the night. Ptolemy could use a good rest and honestly, so could I. I will head out in the morning and check on the bridge. I cannot let her continue to be unprotected.”

“We are heading back today. Would you like me to head up here after and meet you?”

Part of him wanted to say yes. To have a man he trusted at his back. Another set of eyes on Jo to help ensure her safety. It sounded perfect.

“No. I think if we can keep a low profile then we may be safer.”

Royce nodded. “You need me, send word.”

“Will do.” He rose. “I need to secure a room.” Tryst walked off trying to ignore the uncertainty welling up within him.
I just need to see her and I will feel better.
He hoped.

Once he acquired a room for the night, he went outside in an attempt to calm his overactive nerves. Never before had a mission made him feel like this. However, it had not ever been about Jo before either.

He leaned against a tree and sighed as he watched Clara and Royce have an intense argument off to the side. He had apparently been wrong about Clara as well for she had attitude. Her protectiveness of Jo made him happy except he really needed to locate her. He said farewell to Royce as he and his “wife” headed back to London in a rented coach.

The next morning he ate early and slipped off to grab his horse. He waved off a stable lad who had come to with a rough jerk. He paused before the stall which held his stallion. A light whicker reached him.

“Morning, boy.”

He scratched the stallion between the eyes. Ptolemy looked much better and soon he was saddled and they were on their way. When he reached the spot the bridge had been he muttered words not fit for polite company. No one was around who appeared as though they were working on rebuilding.

Turning Ptolemy upstream, he snapped the reins and they set off, following the river. There had to be a place to cross, or narrow enough Ptolemy could jump it safely. He would not be backtracking if he could help it.

Chapter Five

Blessedly back in the country. I rode Fineas today. He runs like the wind. I much prefer to ride astride as I am wont to do upon the coal black stallion.

~From the private journal of Josephine Adrys

Jo sighed as she stepped outside the small crofter’s hut she had been staying in. She truly hoped Clara was all right. Callum Blackwood had been a perfect gentleman. The day after she barged into his house he had escorted her to this small place telling her she could stay as long as she needed. Not having gone with much it did not take her long to settle in. Moreover, she had been here for a week now and was comfortable.

Today she was going into town for a few supplies. Readjusting the basket on her arm she set off, the warm sun upon her shoulders. She had just left the baker’s when a large horse stepped in front of her, halting her. Squinting against the glare of the sun, she peered up past the large black mount. Callum sat there.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Blackwood.”

“Miss Adrys.” He touched his hat.

She shifted her weight and moved to where she did not have to squint. “How are you today?”

He flashed a rakish grin. It made her heart stutter-step a bit. This man was dangerous. Extremely so.

“Out for a ride. May I escort you home?”

“I walked, so it will take a bit, but yes, I would enjoy that.”

Callum dismounted with leonine grace. “Lovely.” He took her full basket and attached it to his horse’s saddle. They walked off together and she was well aware of the villagers watching her with suspicious and confused stares. They were polite to her yet distant. She did not mind for the most part. However, if it were because of Callum she would change her mind. She truly liked him. Mostly serious, she had begun to see a softer side to him.

Okay perhaps soft is not the right word. But not as intense.

They talked about Clara on the way back and she began to understand how much he cared for her. At the path leading to her place, he untied the basket and handed it to her.

“Thank you. And thank you for the lovely walk.”

Callum swung up with the same ease he had dismounted. “My pleasure, Miss Adrys.” He tipped his hat and rode away.

“Damn,” she muttered watching his retreating figure.

“You are lucky he rode off.”

The furious masculine voice startled her and she just reacted. With a single and smooth move, she spun and threw.

“Shite!”

Her eyes widened as it dawned on her who stood there. Trystan. And her dirk sat buried in the tree beside him. She could see blood welling up along his arm and the tear in his shirt.

“What are you doing here?” she demanded. “How did you find me?”

“You cut me.”

“You snuck up on me,” she countered without apology, moving to the front door. His appearance had her rattled.

He moved to intercept. “Had you not been so mesmerized by your escort, perhaps you would have seen me.”

Setting the basket down, she went to the tree and yanked her blade free. The blood on it reminded her he still bled.

“It sounds like you are jealous, Trystan. Since we both know you are not, stop the act.”

She stored her blade and turned around. He watched her intently, apparently unconcerned with the growing amount of blood on his shirt. Her mouth went dry as she took in his attire. Gone was the viscount with the layers of “proper” clothing. In his place was a man dressed in tight black trousers and a blue shirt, stretched taut across broad shoulders. He had a gun strapped to each leg and she saw a sword on one side as well.

“Expecting a war?”

He scowled. “Protecting you. What were you thinking running off like that?”

It was her turn to scowl and she hefted her basket and went inside. “I do not need
your
kind of protection, Mr. Wilkes.”

“Yes, you do.”

The ferocity of his words had her placing the basket on the table and facing him again. “Why is that?” She could see the reluctance to discuss it with her and her temper boiled over. “Either you talk or leave, Tryst. I have taken all the lies from you I will. Because of
you
and
your
group, I am away from
my
family in order to keep them safe. So damn you, tell me! Or get your bleeding self out of my house.”

“Or I can add to the blood.” Another voice entered the conversation and damn if it did not sound cheerful about the prospect of doing what was proposed.

She glanced past Tryst to see Callum leaning in the doorway, arms crossed appearing as he always did. Serious. However, this time there was a lethal edge to him.

“You want him to live, get him out of here, Jo.” Trystan’s tone was darker than anything she had ever heard from him before.

“You are already bleeding. Are you sure you want to do this?”

Wait? Callum was provoking him? A deep growl filled the room and she moved, trying to slip between the two of them. It did not work. Her unwanted guest grabbed her arm and refused to let her. At the touch of his fingers Callum’s gaze narrowed until his eyes were mere slits.

“Stop this!” she snapped jerking free of Trystan. “Both of you.”

“Get away from him, Jo,” Tryst snarled.

She whirled on him. ”Listen to me, Trystan, Viscount Wilkes. You. Do. Not. Own. Me. So quit telling me what to do!”

She knew his anger grew when she moved closer to Callum.

“Who are you?” he demanded.

“Callum Blackwood.” A cool appraisal of his weapons. “Looking for trouble?”

“I could shoot you.”

His lips quirked even if the smile did not reach his eyes. “You could try.”

“Oh stop this.” Jo put her hands on her hips. “Neither of you are going to do anything and I am safe, so both of you stop thinking the other may hurt me.” She speared Tryst with a glare. “You are acting like Alexander when he does not get his way.”

“Jo,” he said beckoning to her, obviously not wanting her anywhere near the other man.

She not only ignored his summons she turned her back on him and faced Callum. She heard him growl as she talked to Callum, assuring him that Tryst did not mean her any harm.

“Very well,” Callum said. “I will leave you two to discuss what you need to. But I will return come morning to check on you.” He stared past her and glared stonily at Tryst. “And you had better be just fine.”

Callum lowered his head, brushed a kiss along her cheek, and left after one final challenging look to Trystan. She closed the door behind him and prayed her heart would slow down a bit. Callum had never kissed her before, even an innocent one on the cheek.

“I never lied to you.”

Tryst grabbed her shoulder and spun her toward him. He had clenched his hands in fists so tight she wondered if any blood would get through. She crossed her arms and glared at him. That’s all he had to say? He had never lied. Somehow, she thought he might have objected to another man kissing her. Sorrow filled her as she realized she was wrong.

“Did you hear me? I never lied to you.”

She had to give him credit. He was good. It did not surprise her at all for he was in a line of work where lies and deceit were part of the prerequisite skills. Something occurred to her. If Trystan had, would Colin?

“Talk then and stop bleeding on my floor.”

“Do not think I am ignoring you let some strange man kiss you, Jo. Nevertheless, you are right, we need to deal with this first. As for bleeding on your floor, you are the one who threw a knife at me.”

She did not appreciate his attempt at bad humor and knew her expression informed him of that. “I am still waiting.”

He moved. A subtle shift really but it reminded her all over again he was not a typical member of peerage. This man was a warrior. Hunter. Predator. Raw power coiled beneath his skin.

“You, my little hellcat, are very impatient.”

She burned at the term which she had come to view as an endearment from him. “I am neither yours nor a hellcat. How patient do I need to be? Wait until I am dead?”

His eyes flashed blue fire at her statement. She blinked and found him right up in her personal space. “You will not die.”

“Tell me what is going on.
All
of it this time.” She gripped his arm and his gaze darkened before a slight hiss of pain left him. Glancing at her hand she realized she held where she had sliced. “Sorry.”

“Now you apologize?”

“I am not sorry for defending myself. I may as well fix it so sit down.” With a not so gentle shove, she pushed him at one of her two chairs.

“In my bag I have medical supplies.”

Of course he did. About to ask him where it was, she clamped on her question when she spied it behind the door. She brought the whole thing back and pulled out needle and thread as well as some whisky.

“The man after you killed my group seven years ago. He goes by the name The Alchemist.”

His words startled her so much her hands shook. “Your group?”

“The group I worked with for the Crown. We operate in smaller factions. Easier to deploy that way and it keeps our identities a secret.” He rubbed his jaw and the scar dissecting it. “I thought he was gone.” A deep breath. “I was wrong.”