Fever Dreams

by Nicole Jordan

  Feeling color flood her cheeks, Eve returned a measuring glance, taken aback to think she was the recipient of Ryder’s only proposal…even though she’d always suspected he was not the marrying kind and had proposed to her that day only out of altruism. She opened her mouth to reply, then shut it again promptly, deciding it wiser to ignore both his admission and his pointed reminder of their kiss.

  At her muteness, the gleam in Ryder’s eyes intensified. “You needn’t fear a repetition of that incident, sweeting. I’ve given up assaulting beautiful young ladies. Some people even mistake me for a gentleman now.”

  “It is not gentlemanly,” Eve countered, “to remark on our…that kiss. My behavior that day was not in the least ladylike, and I would like to forget it ever happened.”

  “I fancy I was a trifle more at fault than you were,” Ryder replied dryly. “But I am willing to overlook our past if you wish it.”

  “Thank you,” Eve said in gratitude. “I do wish it. I thought we could simply be friends, as we once were.”

  “Friends.” Ryder stared at her for a moment, then shook his head. His sudden laughter was soft, unexpected, charming. “Very well, if you insist.”

  Casually he turned and strolled over to the sofa, where he settled himself comfortably. Eve moved forward and sat in a wing chair opposite him.

  “It has been a long time, Countess,” he said finally, still studying her.

  “Yes, it has.”

  “I gather Lady Claire’s comeout is proceeding well under your auspices?” Ryder mused.

  “Thus far it is. But I’m afraid she finds the whole process intimidating. I was much the same when I first came here—a green girl just out of the schoolroom.”

  “That is not what I’ve heard. By all reports, you were the Belle of London your first Season.”

  Eve’s smile was self-deprecating. “Hayden’s popularity had much more to do with my success.”

  “You have grown up into a magnificent woman. Your hair is a richer gold than I remember.”

  There was something intimate, almost possessive, about Ryder’s scrutiny, and Eve once more found herself remembering what it felt like to kiss him, remembering the heat and hardness of him…before she caught herself in exasperation. “Sir Alex, I will thank you to refrain from making such remarks. I don’t desire your flattery, however well meant. And it is not appropriate between mere friends.”

  “Very well, my lady,” he agreed amiably, although he scarcely looked repentant.

  Eve cleared her throat and sought a new topic of conversation. “I should congratulate you on your new knighthood. The honor is well deserved, I understand.”

  That glint returned to his eyes, but this time it held an edge of cynicism. “I believe your father would disagree. He always thought I was born to be hanged.”

  “Yes, well…Papa always did consider it a crime to be born with any blood other than blue.”

  “Cecil tells me that Hayden’s aunts are even worse.”

  That comment elicited a pained smile from Eve. “Indeed, we regularly battle over their notions of superiority. But despite their disdain for anyone not of the peerage, they are lovely ladies.”

  “Doubtless they wonder how you came by your radical views.”

  “I suspect you had a great deal to do with my radical views,” Eve conceded with a laugh.

  Ryder flashed her a grin. “And you had a great deal to do with altering my views, I admit. I turned over a new leaf because of you—actually more than once. But that summer, after you rejected my offer, I decided to put my mercenary past behind me and become respectable.”

  Eve eyed him in surprise. She was a little amazed to think she’d had that much influence over Ryder, and flattered as well. “Is that why you joined the Foreign Office?”

  “In part.”

  Her smile turned faintly teasing. “Does that mean I can take some of the credit for your becoming a celebrated hero?”

  “I would say so,” Ryder answered in the same vein. “And if you follow that line of argument, you can also claim some credit for the fact that I was knighted. I realized a title would aid me in gaining respectability, so I allowed Sir Gawain to put forward my name for the honor. I could never have stomached the absurd formalities of court otherwise.”

  Eve glanced toward the window at Ryder’s mansion across the square. “I suppose you hired your new house for the same reason?”

  “Yes. If I’m to set up as a knight and marry a well-bred lady, I must have a suitable address.”

  “Then the gossip is true? You are looking for a wife?”

  Ryder hesitated.

  Just then Claire entered, a delighted expression on her face as she crossed the room to him. “Sir Alex, how good it is to see you again! I have missed you.”

  “I have missed you too, Lady Claire.”

  When Ryder rose to greet her, she gave him her hands in a gesture of friendship. “It is wonderful news about your being knighted.”

  “Thank you, my lady. You are looking quite enchanting. Have you taken London by storm yet?”

  She laughed, and Eve was struck by how animated her sister’s face was. Claire was indeed looking fresh and pretty in a new yellow dotted-swiss gown, and she was gazing up at Ryder with genuine fondness. A fondness he seemed to return.

  Distracted by the sight, Eve barely heard a throat being cleared until she realized that Beatrice had joined them.

  The elderly lady sent Eve an apologetic glance as she stepped into the room. “Drucilla wishes me to act as chaperone, Eve.”

  Which doubtless meant, Eve thought, that Drucilla herself refused to honor their visitor with her presence, but believed the ladies of the house required protection from the likes of a former mercenary.

  Beatrice was eyeing him with great curiosity, so Eve made the introductions. Ryder’s bland look held politeness as he offered her a formal bow.

  He had just straightened when Dunstan appeared with the tea tray. Lady Beatrice settled in a chair with her needlework while Eve busied herself pouring tea.

  Claire sat next to Ryder on the sofa.

  “Now, Sir Alex,” the girl continued, “what were you saying when I interrupted? Something about the gossip being accurate? Are you truly looking for a wife?”

  When Eve felt Ryder’s glance fall on her, she returned an inquisitive gaze, very curious to hear his answer.

  “Yes, I intend to marry,” he acknowledged. “It’s the chief reason I’ve come to London.”

  “Did you know that Eve is known for her matchmaking abilities?” Claire asked.

  His eyebrow lifted. “Is that so?”

  “I have had some minor success,” Eve admitted.

  Claire smiled as she sipped her tea. “You are far too modest, dearest sister. Sir Alex, she can claim credit for at least a dozen marriages.”

  From Ryder’s expression, Eve could tell he seemed surprised. “Are you so interested in promoting the institution of matrimony, then?”

  She gave a light shrug of her shoulders. “Truthfully, no. I have no fondness for matrimony. But if a young woman must marry, I believe she ought to find someone with whom she can live happily. So each season I make it a point to help several of the new debutantes.”

  “Help? How?”

  “Oh, nothing exceptional. I advise them on finding the right sort of husbands and try to pair them with suitable prospects so they can make good matches and avoid bad ones.”

  The amused glint in his eye had returned. “And just what do you consider a good match, Countess?”

  “One where the couple shares compatible character and temperament. And of course social and financial considerations are important. A union is not likely to succeed where there is a great disparity between husband and wife.”

  “Perhaps you should consider asking Eve to help you find a suitable match, Sir Alex,” Claire suggested. “She really is quite skilled at it.”

  “Oh, no,” Eve said at once. “I wouldn’t dream of offering S
ir Alex advice.”

  “I think it a grand idea,” Claire insisted.

  Frowning, Eve sent her sister a questioning look, wondering why in the world Claire was being so adamant about the issue.

  But Lady Beatrice spoke to Claire before Eve could. “Pray, don’t be absurd, my dear. It would be inappropriate for Eve to become involved in this gentleman’s matrimonial affairs.”

  Eve felt herself stiffen. It was true, she did not want to involve herself with Ryder, but she felt obliged to defend him. “Beatrice, there would be no question of propriety if I were to aid him, since Sir Alex is a longtime friend of my family.”

  Ryder, who was the subject of their discussion, smiled slightly. “It won’t be necessary for you to aid my search, Lady Hayden.”

  “Why not?” Eve asked, her curiosity piqued even further. “You don’t think I could?”

  “Perhaps you could, but I don’t want you to trouble yourself. I already know the kind of bride I want.”

  “Oh? Do you have someone in mind, then?”

  “In fact I—”

  “Wouldn’t you care for tea, Sir Alex?” Claire interrupted.

  She leaned forward and picked up the teacup Ryder had left sitting on the table. But as she turned to hand it to him, the cup slid off the saucer straight into his lap.

  Chapter

  Two

  Wincing, Ryder let out a reflexive oath under his breath and grabbed for the cup at the same moment Claire also dropped the saucer in his lap.

  “Oh, no!” she exclaimed, looking utterly dismayed as she brought her hands to her mortified cheeks. “I am so very sorry, Sir Alex! How dreadfully clumsy of me.”

  Dismayed as well, Eve quickly rose and snatched up a napkin from the tea tray. Moving to his side, she bent over Ryder and began urgently wiping the hot liquid from his breeches.

  Yet the buff-colored fabric was already thoroughly soaked, she noted with chagrin. No matter how hard she pressed, her efforts were not helping.

  Then she moved the linen cloth higher to the juncture of his thighs, and Ryder sucked in a sharp breath. With a jerky movement, he caught her hand, holding it away from his lap. “You had best leave that to me, my lady.”

  He was grimacing in pain, Eve realized as she met his gaze. Or perhaps not pain…. His eyes had gone very dark, she saw, while his voice held a strange huskiness.

  But what did she expect, when she had been fondling his loins, for mercy’s sake?

  Her cheeks flushing scarlet at the realization, Eve dropped the napkin as if it were on fire and backed away. “Yes…of course…please forgive me. I just thought that s-since you had sacrificed your handkerchief earlier, that you would want a n-napkin.”

  Realizing she was stammering like a flustered schoolgirl—or like Claire at her worst—Eve forced her mouth closed and stood watching ineptly as Ryder took up the napkin and gingerly began patting at his lap.

  Swallowing hard, Eve made a valiant effort to compose herself. “I cannot believe how clumsy we both were today, Sir Alex. First I spill ink all over my desk, then Claire drenches you with tea. Do please forgive us.”

  Ryder’s strained smile held no anger as he returned the cup and saucer and napkin to the tray, then rose to his feet. “Pray, think nothing of it—it was a mere accident. But I had best excuse myself and return home to change. Your servant, ladies.”

  He offered them all a polite bow before turning to the door.

  Watching him stride away, Eve remained where she stood, wanting to sink through the Aubusson carpet. She couldn’t ever remember being so mortified.

  “I am truly sorry, Eve,” Claire said in a small voice behind her.

  “Don’t worry about it, dearest,” she replied absently. “Of course you didn’t do it on purpose.”

  Claire’s pink face turned an even brighter red, and she mumbled another apology before she went scurrying from the room.

  Her sister, Eve realized, looked as flustered as she felt.

  Amazingly enough, however, Beatrice was still calmly attending to her needlework. “I confess, Sir Alex is not what I expected,” the elderly lady said rather thoughtfully.

  Her pronouncement caught Eve’s attention as she moved to ring for Dunstan to clear away the tea tray. “What did you expect, Beatrice?”

  “Someone less gentlemanly, I suppose. He is not quite the uncivilized brute that Drucilla predicted, even if he is an ungodly mercenary.”

  “No, Sir Alex is not quite a brute,” Eve replied, feeling a prick of amusement break through her chagrin.

  She supposed Beatrice’s reluctant admission was something, even if the rest of the morning had been a complete disaster.

  In the aftermath of his visit, Ryder stood on the front steps of Eve’s mansion, gritting his teeth as he waited for his overheated pulse to cool. For the past year, Lady Eve had figured prominently in his erotic dreams, but to have her slim fingers pressing against his cock, stroking him just as he’d always imagined….

  Ryder closed his eyes, nearly laughing at the irony of it. The delightful shock had almost unmanned him.

  Hell, just seeing Eve again after all this time had been a shock, no matter how much he had prepared himself. When he’d walked into the room and spied her sitting there at her desk, his carefully worded speech had fled his mind. And then Eve had looked up at him.

  For a moment he’d been deafened by his own heartbeat. His gaze had riveted on the perfect oval of her face sleekly framed by a gold chignon, on her searching blue eyes, and his breath had lodged in his throat.

  It had taken a supreme effort of will to pretend a casualness he didn’t feel. Eve was still tall and slender and graceful. Yet now instead of merely a beautiful, spirited girl, at twenty-five she was a mature, beautiful, spirited woman. Poised, elegant, infinitely lovely.

  And more desirable than ever.

  Her enchanting siren’s smile, quick and bright as the sun, had brought sharp hunger leaping forth in his body—and forcibly reminded Ryder why he’d fallen so hard for Eve in his youth. The moment he’d seen her, he’d felt as if his heart had suddenly started beating again after a long sleep.

  “Devil take it, get hold of yourself, man.” Muttering the oath, Ryder pushed away from the door and bounded down the short flight of steps to the street, heading for his house across the square. He halted, however, when he heard Claire calling him.

  “Sir Alex! Wait. I need to speak to you.”

  Turning, he watched as she carefully shut the front door and remained waiting for him on the landing.

  Retracing his path, Ryder mounted the marble steps to where Claire stood looking flushed and breathless. “What is it, Lady Claire?”

  “I wished to apologize again.”

  “I told you there was no need. It was merely an accident.”

  “Well, you see…that isn’t quite true.” Her guilty expression surprised him, as did the way she twisted her fingers together. “I truly didn’t want to spill tea all over you. I just didn’t know what else to do. I had to distract you.”

  “Distract me?” Ryder’s gaze sharpened. “Do you mean to tell me your clumsiness was no accident? That you doused me deliberately?”

  Claire hung her head. “I am afraid so. I honestly am sorry, but I didn’t want you declaring your intentions, you see.”

  Ryder took a slow breath. “I confess I don’t see, my lady. Why don’t you explain it to me?”

  She looked at him earnestly. “You cannot propose to Eve just now. It would be a dreadful mistake.”

  “What makes you think I want to propose?”

  “It has been obvious to me for years that you have a tendre for Eve. Whenever you merely speak of her, you get this certain look in your eyes….”

  With effort, Ryder managed to keep his features impassive. He’d suspected Lady Claire had been quietly observing for some time, but he hadn’t realized she knew.

  Just then a carriage went by on the street, the rumble making speech impossible.

&nbs
p; “You must understand about Eve, Sir Alex,” Claire continued in a low voice when the vehicle had passed.

  “What must I understand?” Ryder asked, trying to control his impatience.

  “Why she never intends to marry again.”

  He gave Claire a penetrating glance. “Why?”

  “Well, you see…even though her marriage to Lord Hayden was considered a brilliant match, I think she was terribly unhappy.”

  “You think?” Ryder demanded, his tone reflexively gruff.

  “Well, I don’t know for absolute certain, but little things Eve has let slip have painted a picture of despair.”

  A scowl snapped his eyebrows together. “You don’t mean to tell me that bas—” He cut off the foul name he’d started to call the late earl. “That Hayden abused her?”

  Claire shook her head. “Not so evil as that. But Eve was miserable all those years of being wed to him, I don’t doubt. Hayden was the essence of charm in public, but to Eve, he was cold and heartless. When I came to live with her at Hayden Park, I made friends with the servants, and her abigail told me something about how it was for Eve…how Lord Hayden treated her like some exotic songbird in a golden cage, to be forever kept on display. He required her to be perfect at all times. The perfect lady, the perfect wife and hostess, so she would reflect well on him. And his temper turned violent whenever she dared slip.”

  Claire bit her lip. “You can’t imagine how awful that made me feel, knowing the sacrifice Eve made for me…for our entire family. She only married Lord Hayden in order to save us from destitution. It’s solely because of Eve that I can even afford a Season and that I have a generous dowry provided by her marriage settlements.”

  “So you believe she never plans to wed again,” Ryder repeated in a rough stranger’s voice.

  “I know it, since she told me so in no uncertain terms. We were discussing my comeout, and when I mentioned the possibility of Eve finding another husband for herself, she was adamantly set against it. Indeed, she only came to London for my sake, to find a good match for me. I have the feeling Eve doesn’t care much for the ton or all the trappings of her rank. She is far happier living in the country, setting Hayden Park to rights after Lord Hayden practically let it go to ruin.”