Her Reluctant Viscount (Rakes and Rogues) (16 page)

Callum ordered a carriage and waited with her outside. “If you ever need anything, Jo.” He lifted her chin so they were eye to eye. “I mean anything at all. You are always welcome and I will do whatever I can to help.” He escorted her to the newly arrived carriage.

“Thank you.” She reached up and brushed her lips along his cheek. “For everything.”

Callum helped her in then turned to Trystan. The men exchanged words and she knew they were not polite ones. She kept her silence when he climbed in and slammed the door behind him. The carriage rolled off and she plucked at some imaginary thread on her skirt.

“Where are we going?”

“Away from your suitor.” The words were so low and rough she almost did not understand them. She refused to let her heart hope he was jealous. “Too bad.”

“Him, Jo? Really?”

“As before, my personal life is no concern of yours.”
What did Callum tell you, Trystan?

He grunted and she sighed, turning her attention to the countryside streaming past.

“This is going to be unpleasant without you not speaking to me, Trystan. Is there not something we could discuss to pass the time?”

He leaned back, arms crossed over his wide chest and pinned her with those killer eyes. Her heart thundered in her chest and she struggled to ensure it would not show on her face.

“Why did you run?”

Her nose flared as she blew out in exasperation. “We already went over that.”

“Not to my approval.”

She shook her head, pulled off her gloves, and slapped them on the seat beside her. “You are impossible to please, Trystan. No matter what I say it will never meet your approval.”

“I am not impossible, Jo. I cannot be fooled by beauty and prefer a real answer to evasive ones.”

Now she crossed her arms and stared at him. “Is that so? For a man who claims to not be fooled by beauty, you sure seem to be often. Or are all the wives you sleep with ugly?”

He glowered. “Let it go.”

“Why? You brought it up. So tell me, if you are not fooled by beauty what other reason do you have for your actions?”

He leaned forward. “Why the interest in my sleeping habits?”

She tsked as if not a care at all. “I have no care with what whore you sleep with. I worry because I do not want to find myself suddenly in danger because you are
not
fooled by beauty yet again.”

Thunderheads brewed in his eyes, darkening them. She blinked owlishly at him. He teetered on the edge of his control, she could see that.

“So?”

“So what?” His question filtered through clenched teeth.

“What is it then?”

“We are
not
discussing this.”

“Again, you brought it up.” She shrugged and stared out the window.

“I did no such thing.”

“Sure you did.” She hid her smile and faced him. “You mentioned how you were not fooled by beauty. I merely asked what the women—wives—you slept with had to get you there.”

He really did not stand a chance. Not against her. She had not been brought up in the typical fashion and had almost no qualms about asking questions to find an answer, no matter how inappropriate they may be considered.

“Let it go.”

She sighed and gave another half shrug. “Fine.”

The silence that descended was tense. He seemed perfectly content to keep it that way and she hid her exasperation and tried to sleep. There would be plenty of time to discover just how far she could push him before he snapped.

When they stopped for lunch, she walked quietly beside him. She could feel the questioning gaze he continually leveled at her, but she ignored it. Ignored him. He took a private room and she took her food with a smile and ate while she wrote in her journal.

“What are you doing?” He tapped the handle of his knife on the table.

“Writing.” Her pencil skirted along the paper.

“Writing what?”

“Nothing that concerns my brother,” she replied with a sweet smile, closing the book and trying the binding. “I am going to be—”

“You will not venture alone,” he growled, his voice absolute.

“I get some privacy, Tryst. There are some places you do not need to come with me.
This
would be one of them.” She left before he could say another word. He met her at the carriage and helped her in.

“I am riding for a bit.” He shut the door in her face.

She cursed him and flopped back in the seat. She hated being cooped up in here. Not even a full day and she itched to get out. She dug around for her pad and pencil again. It was not the easiest to do in a traveling carriage, but she took up one full seat and began to sketch and make notes. The sooner they found The Alchemist the sooner she could have her life back. They stopped for the night and he escorted her to her room.

“I will come for you in an hour for dinner.”

“Not hungry. Eat alone.” She shut the door in his face.

“Jo. Jo! Open this door,” he demanded.

She sat on her bed, crossed her legs, and got back to recalling every detail she could about alchemy.

Trystan scowled at the closed door before him. He wanted to kick it down, it made no sense. Why was
she
mad? If it were not for her, they would press on through the night. He pounded again.

“Is there a problem, sir?”

His smile forced as he shook his head. “A mere disagreement with my sister.” He had signed in as Mr. Wilkes, leaving off his title as an added precaution.

The man nodded as if he understood. Thankfully, he continued on his way. No doubt off to tell his staff to snoop and gather gossip.

“Jo?”

No answer. He blew out a heavy breath. A slight pause and he hesitated with the hand still poised to knock again. Then he walked away. This was not going to be easy. Her cutting remarks about his cavalier attitude with women had hit a mark. Upsetting him almost as much as watching her interact with Callum.

If only he could recall where he had seen that man before. Muttering under his breath, he pivoted around and retraced his steps to her door. He knocked and said, “Damn it, Jo, open this door or I will knock it down.”

A click preceded it swinging open. “For a man who could not seem to get out of the carriage fast enough you sure seem unwilling to leave me alone.”

He brushed by her and closed the door behind him. His gaze swept the room and he took it all in. The window in proximity to the bed and how to keep her safe.

“You need to eat, Jo.”

“Can we not refrain from the pretending farce until necessary? I will eat when hungry. Right now, I have things to do.”

She sat on the bed and placed her pad on her lap, ignoring him. He crossed his arms and leaned against the wall beside the door. She had a point. Why was he forcing his presence on her when he had left her alone in the carriage? Oh yeah, because he loved being around her.
On your terms,
his brain added. Not totally true. He had to put distance between them on occasion or he would have no way to control the urge within him to claim her as his own.

“What are you doing?”

“Making notes on what I remember about alchemy. And I looked a bit more at the tattoo on his wrist.”

He was impressed. Honestly, he was not sure what he expected her to be once he got them on their way, but this shocked him.

“When did you start working on this?”

“After you ran scared from the coach.” She never even looked at him.

Trystan knew he had been dismissed. He retreated to the door where he paused. He peered over his shoulder at the woman on the bed. The sun streamed in through the window, bathing her in a golden glow. Her sun-kissed skin had lightened some since he first met her, but no matter, she still astounded him.

Damn her. There she sat, so innocent in appearance and yet she was no shrinking violet. Even now as she sat there, she muttered in both African and Latin. Really, what woman did that?

If only. He shook his head and left the room. She never did join him for dinner. He knocked and she sent him on his way, so he had dined alone.

Now the inn was silent and he knew he should be asleep. He hovered between the realm of Morpheus and wakefulness. With a groan, he rolled onto his back and stared out the window at the small sliver of the moon. He did his best not to think about Jo in bed. A door closed and it brought him upright. Every sense strained to decipher the source. Faint footsteps faded but he did not relax. His worry increased, instincts yelled at him.

Jo!

He was at the door in no time and cracked it to peek out. The hallway sat shrouded in darkness but he did not care. He refused to ignore his gut. He was at her door in seconds, never even slowing when noticing it sat slightly open.

With a low roar, he tackled the man, hovering over her bed and bore him to the floor, going for his throat. The intruder was agile and rolled free. Tryst gained his feet and palmed a knife, keeping himself between the intruder and the bed. Whoever it was hesitated then jumped out the window, the glass shattering down.

“Jo?”

“Go,” she said.

He did, diving after the man. Once he had rolled to his feet, he headed off in the direction he had seen him running. He pulled up when he reached the road. His instincts were at war with his duty and obligation to the Crown and he hesitated. Only for a moment, for keeping Jo safe was the most important thing.

Concealing his weapon, he loped back to the inn, which had come alive in a flurry of activity. Upstairs he found Jo with the innkeeper’s wife at her side and a blanket around her shoulders. He hurried to her other side and drew her against him.

For once she did not argue with him, just sank into him. He could feel the shivers, which rocked her body.

“How did this happen?” he demanded, not even having to pretend outrage.

“I am so sorry, sir. This has never happened before.” The proprietor stood before him, hands wringing with fear. The expression on his face echoed his nervousness. Trystan longed to wrap his hands around his neck and squeeze. “Is there anything I can do, sir?”

“You have done enough,” Trystan growled.

“Stop, brother,” Jo said her voice not as strong as usual but not the sound of one who had given up. “No one was hurt. It is not
this
man’s fault I was attacked.”

Trystan looked down at the woman at his side. She watched him with those blue eyes and he nodded. “Shall we leave?”

“No.” Her fingers tightened briefly on his arm. “I find I am still very tired.”

“We have no other rooms but we would give up our room,” the man informed him.

“Not necessary. My sister will stay with me.” His words were final.

“We will move her things.”

In less than ten minutes, he shut the door on everyone, enclosing himself in a bedroom with Jo. She had been mostly quiet during it all and he turned to see her sitting on the bed in her nightclothes. A plain white shift, which should do absolutely nothing to him and yet did everything.

He crossed to her side and sat next to her. Not touching but close. He stared at her hands as they flexed around a linen cloth. Tight. Loose. Tight. Loose. Move the material and skim the thumb over the flower in a corner, the she did it all over again. Her gaze was unfocused and distant.

Anger and fear surged through him. Had he been one second later…he did not want to think about it. She dropped the cloth to the bed and he picked it up when she made no move to retrieve it.

He stared at the embroidered blue and purple flower in the corner. “Did you make this?”

Her gaze took a few moments to lose that distant look. She blinked and sighed before staring at his hand.