Her Reluctant Viscount (Rakes and Rogues) (17 page)

“
Agapanthus africanus.
An African lily. No, I did not make this. I embroider as well as I can sew. Mama made that one. Mine look nothing like flowers.” She reached for it, only to draw back and return her hand to her lap.

Trystan turned a bit more toward her and exhaled sharply. She should have succumbed to tears by now and he could have lain her down to sleep. She barely blinked and sat ramrod straight on the bed, staring off into space at something only she could see.

“You need to sleep, Jo. We leave early.”

“You will not leave, tonight?”

He reached out and tucked a dark curl behind her ear. Small almost delicate ears. The urge to drag his finger along the shell of her ear and sink his fingers into her silken hair ran over him in a powerful wave.

“There are benefits to both. So we may as well allow you to get some more rest here.”

“Benefits?”

“Yes. Leaving could be safer if he decides to return. Or it could be safer here if they had an ambush waiting for us on the road.”

“So either is dangerous.”

“Yes.” Still no reaction and he used his index finger to turn her face so he could meet her gaze. “You can sleep, Jo. I will be right here in the chair.”

She shuddered and he knew she had reached her limit. Again, however, Jo proved him wrong. Her chin quivered one more time but she squared her shoulders and lifted her head.

“Okay.”

She scooted over to where his blankets had been pulled back, swung around, and slipped her feet beneath them. She laid back, her head to his pillow, and he stood, praying for continued strength. Blowing out the candles, he sat in his chair, weapons nearby.

“Trystan?”

“Yes, Jo?”

“Thank you. For arriving in time.”

He clenched his jaw at the unwanted appearance of a mental image of her lying dead in that bed. Forcing it away, he shifted.

“Just doing my job.”

She moved, her body on the sheets making a seductive noise. “Of course you are.”

He had hurt her with that comment, but he let it go. Distance. Had to keep distance from her. Just keep her alive. He rubbed the bridge of his nose and leaned back in the chair, prepared to wait out the sun’s arrival.

Two hours later a soft sob split the silence. He tensed and it came again. Jo was crying. He had risen from his seat before it even registered he moved. He drew up and slowly reclaimed the chair. She would not want him to acknowledge her tears. It was not easy listening to her soft cries in the dark. They did not last long but they did not have to, he had already been affected.

How was he going to let her go?

When the first rays of morning light streamed in through the curtains, he turned his attention to the woman sleeping in bed. She lay on her stomach, blankets up around her neck. Her hair shielded most of her face. She looked innocent and pure like that.

A door slammed and in the time it took him to spare a glance to the door and back to Jo he saw she was awake. Poking out from the pillow her hand was under he saw a blade point. Her gaze was serious.

“Morning, Jo.”

“How long until we leave?”

“As soon as you are ready.”

She got out of bed and all the blood ran to his shaft. Christ, she looked delectable in the morning. Soft. Rumpled. Sultry. Made to keep a man in bed all day.

She stared at him. “I really do not think my
brother
would stay in the room while I dress.”

He stood immediately and went to the door. “I will be right outside.”

She just nodded so he left. He had barely gotten his body back under control when she opened the door for him. Back in the room he leaned against the wall as she swiftly plaited her hair. She wore a pale green and gray dress. Simplistic and functional. He gave her credit for packing so well.

He had the strongest urge to cross to her and draw her close. It was an urge he had to disregard. He shoved his own things in his bag and was ready the same time she finished. She met his gaze briefly before she brushed by him to leave the room. Downstairs the proprietor apologized profusely about what happened.

Jo remained quiet and stayed beside him without him having to tell her. He knew she was portraying a sister needing to be close to a brother who made her feel safe. Yet he was truly concerned. This was an extremely subdued Jo. He wanted his hellcat back.

They partook of a brief breakfast and got on their way. Inside the travelling coach, she put her nose into that sketchpad of hers and acted as if he were not even there. The more time which ticked by the surlier he became.

“Why are you so determined to ignore me?” She never looked up. “Jo!”

This time she looked but only for a brief spell. Then again he was dismissed.

“I am sorry for last night.” Still nothing. “Would you say something?”

“What would be the point, Trystan? You want to talk but I say something you do not like you can leave and ride outside while I am still stuck in here. Not exactly fair. I cannot get away.”

“Is that what you want?” A shift. “To get away from me?”

“This is about me being a prisoner. You can sit there and talk about anything and I am stuck here listening. It is not fair. Stow your ego, Trystan.” She snapped her pad shut and glared.

“Do you want to ride?”

Her eyes lit up and he could see the longing in her expression. “You will let me ride Ptolemy?”

“Not on your life.” The glow dimmed until it was gone. “He is not just any horse, Jo. Nobody else rides him.”

“Fine.” And just like that she sketched again.

“Jo.”

“Leave me be.”

He raked a hand through his hair in frustration. The carriage hit a deep rut and cast them around. He reached to steady Jo, who glared at him when they hit another one. She flew directly into him.

Her legs were pressed between his, chest to chest, they stared at one another. He swallowed hard as her fresh, pure scent wove around him. It reached out with tendrils and dragged him back into a place where she was all he thought about. In that moment, his world shrank to consist of two. Him and her. Nothing else.

His fingers enclosed about her ribs, his thumbs brushed against the sides of her breasts. He gulped, mouth dry. His shaft thickened and swelled inside of his trousers, pressing hard. Right to Jo whose eyes widened. She could feel him.

More surprise. There was no embarrassment. She did not blush and duck her head. Nor did she get offended and try to scramble away. No, the expression on her face and in her eyes was one of pure desire. She made no attempt to hide it. His trousers were too tight and she rubbed against him again when they hit another rut.

He leaned in, fingers tightening on her sides. The pulse on her throat quickened and her breathing came faster. Her lips, plump and luscious, beckoned him with the lure of the sirens. Trouble was he did not have anything to block his ears nor was he tied up to resist the draw and calling. She was there, right here in front of him.

They rocked sideways and he held her tight to keep her from hitting the floor. While she now lay fully upon him, he was not focused on it. From the way she scrambled off him, neither was she. Something was wrong.

He rapped on the roof. No answer.

“Are you going to do something?” she demanded as they swayed again.

“Thought you did not need anyone,” he retorted.

Her eyes flashed blue fire and with a snort of derision, she opened the door. He hauled her back.

“I was kidding, Jo.”

“Not really time for that. Besides your stallion is still tied.”

Shite. He lunged for the door and kicked it open. “Stay here,” he hollered back to her. Pausing he peered back. “I mean it.”

“Hurry.”

Praying she would actually listen, he hauled himself on top and glanced over the back. Ptolemy was fighting to get free. “Hang on, Ptolemy.” The horses were running flat out and it took him a bit to make his way up to the perch. The driver was gone but Trystan could not focus on that right now. He had to slow them.

By the time he reached the reins, he had fallen once—saved by the grace of God—with a slight dent for him to grab and haul himself back up. The horses were well sprung and were not easy to slow. Eventually they stopped and stood there as he set the brake, sides heaving and sweaty.

Jo jumped out before he hit the ground and she was by him. “Where is the driver?”

He shook his head. “I do not know.” Brushing by her, he went to check on Ptolemy. His stallion was fine just unhappy to be tied still so he released him and walked him around to the side where he found Jo patting the sorrels.

“Is he okay?”

Ptolemy tossed his head and snorted.

“Seems to be. Are you?”

“You took the brunt of my falls.”

His body pulsed at the recollection of her curves against him. “Glad to be of service.”

“So what happens now? Should we go back and look for the driver?”

He shook his head. There was blood on the seat and they did not have the time to look for him. “No, we press on.”

He caught the flare of her nose but she did not refute him. A flock of birds erupted to the sky and he cast a glance around. They were too vulnerable here and he did not like it.

“We need to go.”

She scrambled up to the seat and looked at him. He frowned and shook his head.

“Times wasting.”

“You need to be inside.”

“I am not going in there. And arguing with me is only making it longer.”

He blew out a breath and returned to the back where he retied his horse. He jumped up beside her and glanced at her. She had a sparkle in her eyes and with an amused shake of his head, he released the brake and snapped the reins. Off they went and he could see her expression was more relaxed than it had been in the carriage.

“Are you going to tell me where you are taking me?”

“Somewhere no one will think to find you.”

“So helpful.”

He hid his smile. “You are handling this well.”

“Would you rather have me crying? Or perhaps I should succumb to a case of the vapors? Would that make you feel better?”

“Vapors? Hellcat, I doubt you have ever had a case of those. Do you know what they are?”

“I am not your hellcat.”

“So you think,” he muttered.

“Why did you let them use me as bait?”

He tensed and forced himself to relax. “Jo, trust me on this. Had I known, it would have been stopped.”

She did not respond and he took his eyes off the road and peeked at her. Her eyes were not on him but staring straight ahead. He snapped the leathers and urged the duo to pick up the pace slightly. They responded and stepped out nicely. Hell, it could almost be a drive around Hyde Park, if not for the ones trying to kill her. Or the fact they were not even close to London.

“Jo?”

“Is Cam part of your group?”

The switch of direction shocked him. Focusing on the road, he weighed his words. “No.”

“Do you have a group?”

“Yes.”

“Major McCutcheon, Captain Royce, and the others?”

“Yes.”

“I see.”

That was it. He expected her to say more. When she did not he looked at her again. Her jaw was set and she sat almost rigidly.

“What do you see?”

“Nothing.”

He frowned. She was lying to him. “We are here for a while. Why do you not tell me?”