Fever Dreams

by Nicole Jordan

  Ryder froze, caught by that smile, feeling bowled over, just as he’d been the first time he’d met Eve. The golden warmth of it still had the power to stun him. He was glad when the twins entered the morning room just then. After responding to their enthusiastic greetings, Ryder settled back to watch Eve interact with her brother and sister, content simply to listen to her melodic, slightly husky voice.

  He had practically run tame in her house the past week, although he’d rarely had Eve to himself. The door knocker at Hayden House sounded at least a dozen times a day to announce callers and admirers. Yet Ryder had found himself eager to be a part of it.

  He cherished the laughter and familial feeling that was so prevalent in this house. Such emotions had been quite rare in his life—and nonexistent since his mother’s death when he was seventeen, when he’d left Cyrene in search of a bold new future.

  He was a loner by choice, but the career of a soldier of fortune was harsh, completely lacking in warmth and softness. Even his years as a Guardian, though fulfilling and filled with the special camaraderie of a brotherhood, had been austere, dedicated to duty and noble ideals, not the tenderness and devotion of siblings who truly cared for one another.

  Perhaps that was why he found himself drawn here. Why part of him hungered for the kind of warmth and affection that was second nature to this family.

  Eve had roused that longing in him, Ryder knew. She was a joy to be around. Whenever she was near, he was filled with an acute awareness of her presence. More than ever he wanted to win her. He could remain here forever, basking in her smile, her scent, her softness.

  Yet shopping was on the agenda for today. He and Cecil were to escort the two sisters to Bond Street. He didn’t mind in the least, Ryder reflected wryly, as long as he was in Eve’s company.

  They set out in the Hayden town coach, with one of Eve’s footmen accompanying them to carry packages. They spent the next three hours visiting various shops and merchants, primarily searching for accessories for Claire’s wardrobe.

  Ryder had promised them luncheon and ices afterward, however, so they were headed for the Clarendon Hotel, having sent the footman back to the carriage with all their parcels, when they passed a shop that sold tobacco and snuff.

  Cecil stopped cold, peering in the window at the display of pipes and enameled snuffboxes and beautifully carved cases to hold cheroots. “Hold a moment, Sir Alex, will you?” he called to Ryder, who had moved ahead with the ladies to the street corner.

  The busy thoroughfare was bustling, crammed with carts and drays and carriages, and the sidewalks were crowded with pedestrians. Ryder asked Eve and Claire to wait for him before crossing, then retreated the short distance to the tobacco shop.

  “Your friend Macky is fond of cheroots,” Cecil explained, “so I thought I might purchase a box for him. Can you advise me on what kind he might like?”

  Beau Macklin had begun to develop a friendship with Cecil, and Ryder thought it wise to encourage the acquaintance. He was trying to recall the brand Macky favored when behind him he heard Claire scream over the din of iron wheels and horses’ hooves, followed by sudden shouts of alarm.

  Ryder spun around and his heart jumped to his throat. Eve was sprawled halfway into the street, facedown on the cobblestones, directly in the path of a heavily laden dray drawn by four massive draft horses.

  Claire stood frozen on the curb, watching in horror at the dray’s swift approach. The next moment she started forward, apparently intent on rescuing her sister from the imminent peril of being run over.

  Reacting on sheer instinct, Ryder raced toward them, shoving pedestrians out of his way in his frantic effort to reach Eve.

  In a desperate burst of speed, he yanked Claire back to the curb and lunged for Eve, catching her beneath her arms and literally dragging her out of the path of the deadly hooves an instant before the horses thundered past, the driver still hauling fiercely on the reins in a futile attempt to stop his team.

  Ryder ended down on his knees with Eve sprawled partway beneath him. His heart pounding, his mind roiling, he lifted her carefully so that she was half sitting on the pavement, half clinging to his forearms. His trembling hand brushed tendrils back from her face as he scrutinized her for injuries.

  “Are you hurt?” he demanded, his voice hoarse with fear.

  “I…don’t think so,” Eve replied, her own voice tremulous with shock, her expression still stunned.

  It was only then that Ryder could breathe again. His arms tightened convulsively around her for a moment, until he realized they were still in the busy street.

  Cecil had moved to stand guard over them and was frantically waving his arms to halt traffic.

  Ryder helped Eve up and led her back to the curb, where he continued to support her.

  “My God, Eve,” Claire rasped, “are you all right?”

  “Yes…just shaken a bit.”

  Claire gave her sister a fearful hug. “Dear God, you could have been killed.”

  At the reminder, Ryder found himself muttering a prayer of relief. Seeing Eve lying there helplessly, about to be crushed, had almost stopped his heart.

  “What the hell happened?” he demanded, his voice still rough with emotion.

  “I’m not certain,” Eve replied. “One moment I was standing at the curb, waiting to cross, and I felt my arm being jostled. The next, someone in the crowd shoved me into the street. I barely caught myself with my hands, or I would have landed on my face.” Dazedly, she glanced down at her gloved hands, finding the palms soiled and scraped. “Then you came to my rescue, Sir Alex.” Eve gazed up at him with a forced smile. “Despite appearances, I promise I was not throwing myself at your feet.”

  Ryder couldn’t manage to respond to her wan attempt at raillery, since he could find no humor whatsoever in the situation. When Eve shuddered, he raised his unsteady fingers to rest comfortingly on her cheek.

  “Falling on your face was the least of the danger, Evie,” Cecil broke in. “If not for Sir Alex’s quick thinking, you would have been mincemeat.”

  “Yes. Thank you, Sir Alex. You saved my life.”

  “Still don’t know how you managed it,” Cecil said admiringly. “I could only stand there gawking like a simpleton.”

  Ryder brushed off the boy’s compliment without comment. He had reacted in time only because his reflexes had been honed to a razor’s edge after years of surviving as a mercenary and carrying out the clandestine enterprises of the Guardians.

  Instead he turned to address Claire. “Did you see who pushed her?”

  Claire shook her head. “No, I saw nothing. It all happened so suddenly.”

  At the grim note in his tone, Eve gave Ryder a searching look. “Surely you don’t think it was deliberate?” she asked faintly.

  “If you ask me,” Cecil interjected, “it is the work of that cursed villain. The one who nearly killed you twice at home.”

  Ryder’s jaw hardened as he recalled learning of the two other accidents that had befallen Eve before she’d come to London—a deadly wolf trap and gunshot—both of which she had blamed on poachers.

  Before Cecil could go on, however, they were joined by Eve’s footman, who took one glance at his mistress and let out a worried exclamation. “Is something amiss, my lady?”

  “A mere mishap, Ned. I am all right.”

  “You still look shaken, Eve,” Claire said. “Perhaps we should go home at once.”

  “Not a good idea,” Cecil objected, shaking his head. “It’ll put the aunts in a quake if Eve returns early looking like she was dragged through the streets, which is precisely what happened.”

  “I just need a moment to compose myself…preferably out of the public eye,” she added, glancing around to see that they were still the center of attention.

  Ryder wasn’t about to send Eve home alone, certainly not before questioning her. He’d spent too many years living by his wits to brush off this third incident as mere coincidence. He wanted to know who
might bear Eve enough animosity to try to kill her. Somehow she had developed an enemy, Ryder was certain. A cowardly enemy furtive enough to be difficult to identify.

  To think someone would dare try to harm Eve filled him with fury, while her vulnerability touched him with an unfamiliar fear. He wanted to hold her safe from everything that could hurt her. He wanted to wrap Eve in his arms and never let her go.

  Yet that was impossible at the moment, since they were surrounded by dozens of observers, including her brother and sister and servant.

  He could take her to his house across the square, however, where they would have a moment of privacy.

  “I think it best if I accompany you home now,” Ryder told Eve. “We can stop first at my house, so you can repair the damage to your gown and pull yourself together before facing the aunts. How does that sound?” When Eve nodded, Ryder turned to Cecil. “You escort Lady Claire to lunch, and I will send the carriage back for you.”

  “If you are sure you don’t need us, Eve,” Claire said tentatively.

  “I will be fine,” she replied. “Ned,” Eve added, speaking to the footman, “will you accompany Mr. Cecil and Lady Claire?”

  “Aye, milady.”

  When the twins had set off for their luncheon, Ryder took Eve’s arm and steered her toward a side street, heading for her town coach.

  Still feeling light-headed, she allowed herself to be guided. It was some while before the fact of Ryder’s grim silence penetrated her daze. When she glanced up at him, she winced at the dark expression on his features. The set of his jaw suggested fury and steely determination.

  “You realize of course,” Eve murmured as they reached the carriage, “that the gossip rags will devour this new tidbit? And when w-word of your heroics get around, it will only increase y-your appeal.”

  Realizing how weak her attempt at teasing sounded, Eve clamped her lips shut. She had been trying to make light of the situation, but the tremble in her voice shocked her. She was grateful for Ryder’s support as he handed her into the coach, for fear suddenly clutched at her midsection.

  Perhaps it was a delayed reaction to the accident. She had escaped serious injury or even death because Ryder had dragged her out of harm’s way barely in the nick of time.

  He still made no comment but merely gave orders to the coachman as Eve sank back against the squabs. Ryder followed her in and shut the door, and immediately the vehicle lurched forward.

  She ought not to let herself think about it, Eve scolded herself. Yet the jolting experience had left her cold and shivering with a need to be held.

  As if he understood, Ryder silently and possessively put an arm around her shoulder and drew her close, tucking her against his chest. “I’m not about to let anyone harm you,” he breathed roughly in her ear.

  The protectiveness in his voice felt strangely wonderful. Except for her brother, no man had ever been so intensely protective of her. Turning into Ryder, Eve pressed her face in the hollow of his neck and shoulder and breathed in his warmth. It was the smell of comfort, of safety.

  She had never before leaned on anyone, and she had no desire to start now, especially with Ryder. She didn’t want to show her fear to him, to let him see how frightened and vulnerable she felt. He’d always been so strong, and she didn’t want to appear weak or cowardly in his eyes. Just now, however, the temptation was too great to fight. It was a relief to have Ryder to depend on, to rely on the strength that seemed to radiate from him.

  Eve sighed, realizing how safe she felt with him. She could stay like this forever, wrapped in his arms, pressed close to his lean, hard body, his heat and strength engulfing her.

  All too soon, however, the carriage halted in front of his house. As Ryder whisked her inside through the entrance hall, Eve glimpsed wealth and good taste in the decor. Shortly she found herself in his large, masculine study, where he made her sit on the couch.

  He poured her a brandy, then sat beside her and gently urged her to take small sips. Eve obliged, feeling the potent burn of the liquor all the way down to her queasy stomach. When she could feel the color returning to her face, she pushed the snifter away.

  “Are you prepared to talk about it now, Eve?” Ryder asked.

  “I suppose I must,” she said reluctantly.

  “You do realize someone is out to do you serious injury or worse?”

  Her response was a faint huff of laughter. “The thought did occur to me…although not until I was lying facedown on the pavement with those massive beasts bearing down on me.”

  A humorless smile pulled at his lips. “As long as you now understand the danger you are in.”

  Eve nodded slowly. “The first attempts were likely not accidents either, were they?”

  “It’s unlikely.”

  “I didn’t want to believe it,” she murmured. “I thought I was safe in London. But I was deliberately pushed in front of that dray.”

  “I believe so. Someone followed you this morning and waited for the opportunity to strike.”

  The notion that an assailant was stalking her was unnerving. An enemy was intent on killing her, or at the very least, frightening her out of her wits. And he had certainly succeeded. The swiftness and unexpectedness of the attack terrified her.

  Eve shuddered and then quickly took another gulp of brandy for courage.

  Ryder smiled his grim, enchanting smile. “Don’t worry. From now on, you will be under my protection.”

  Her gaze flickered to him. He did look supremely dangerous at the moment, even though his violence was leashed. But if Ryder said he would protect her, then she had no doubt he would.

  “That is a comforting thought, Ryder. I’ve heard tell that royalty has paid exorbitant prices to purchase your services. But how do you protect someone from an unknown assailant?”

  “We start by trying to identify him. And to do that, we need to discover who might want to harm you.”

  “I don’t have the faintest idea.”

  “We’ll go over everyone you might have ever angered or slighted. And I want you to tell me in detail everything you remember about the first two accidents. We will get to the bottom of this, Eve, but until we do, I intend to put some of my men in your house to guard you when I can’t be there.”

  “In my house? But won’t that alert whoever is threatening me?”

  “Servants will be unobtrusive. I’ll send some of my own over to join your staff. And I have someone else in mind who is trained in hand-to-hand fighting. He can pose as one of your footmen. We must be better prepared next time.”

  And there would be a next time, Eve suddenly realized. Shivering, she rubbed her aching temple. “What about my sister and brother and the aunts? They could be in danger as well.”

  Ryder’s slashing brows drew together. “Of course we’ll keep a watch on them, although there’s no evidence we should be concerned. You’re the one suffering the accidents.”

  “But if something happens to me, how will they go on?”

  Ryder surveyed her with amazement. Eve had nearly been killed today, yet she was more worried about her family.

  “Nothing will happen to you, I promise,” he vowed solemnly.

  And he meant it. He would protect her or die trying; it was as simple as that.

  When she was silent, he took the snifter from her and set it on the side table. “You have to trust me, Eve.”

  She smiled feebly, a picture of courage that squeezed hard at his chest. “I do trust you. Of course I do. It is only…”

  “Only what?”

  Shivering, she clasped her fingers together and sat there staring down at them. “I cannot seem to stop shaking.”

  Her air of vulnerability frightened him almost as much as the force of his own feelings. Then she lifted her shimmering gaze and his heart stumbled. The trembling he could handle; it was the tears in her eyes that were his downfall. The protective tenderness that rushed through him left Ryder shaking as much as Eve was.

  Needing
to touch her, he raised his hand to her face, brushing back the tendrils around her pale cheeks and strained eyes.

  “Ryder,” she whispered.

  His gut tightened, locking the air in his chest. Helpless to stop himself, he leaned closer and brought his head down. When he kissed her softly, her mouth instantly turned warm and yielding beneath his. Joy and pleasure leaped within him before he could arm himself against them.

  Forcibly he drew back and rested his forehead against hers. The next moment, he felt Eve reach up to entwine her fingers in his hair.

  He breathed her name against her fevered skin, murmuring it like a caress, a curse, a warning. But then suddenly she was kissing him ardently, her fingers tightening in his hair, clinging.

  The desire that lurked just below the surface exploded to life. Ryder buried his hands in her hair and kissed her fiercely, his lips slanting again and again over hers. The heat suddenly pouring through him was as intense as any he’d ever known. Desire ran through him like torch fire, making him ache and burn.

  He craved the feel of Eve, the touch and taste and smell of her, all the things he’d denied himself for years. He wanted her more than he wanted his next breath, to lose himself inside her and never find his way free. The storm in him was nearly uncontainable.

  Yet somewhere in his dazed mind, he realized that she was pushing at his shoulders with her hands. She had fallen back upon the sofa and he was sprawled half on top of her.

  With a savage growl, Ryder broke off and sat up, damning himself for losing control. Eve needed a protector, not a lover, yet he had practically assaulted her.

  Reaching down carefully, he helped her up, his chest burning with each labored breath.

  Her own breath was coming in gasps as she rose shakily to her feet. “I need to leave.”

  “No!” Ryder exclaimed. When he saw her startled look, he added more softly, “No, you can’t go home looking like you’ve been ravished. I’ll have my housekeeper show you to a room upstairs, where you can tidy yourself.”

  Pushing himself to his feet, he went to ring the bellpull and stood waiting there until the cheerful-looking elderly woman appeared. Eve remained silent as he gave orders to show her to a room, and then she followed the servant out without a word.