Fever Dreams

by Nicole Jordan

  “No, Sir Alex is a Guardian, Eve,” Cecil proclaimed as if that should settle the matter.

  She gave him a curious stare. “What is a Guardian?”

  Grimacing, Cecil ran a hand roughly through his blond hair. “I wasn’t supposed to tell. I swore to Mr. Verra I wouldn’t say anything.”

  It was Eve’s turn to frown. Santos Verra was a jovial Spaniard who owned an inn and tavern on Cyrene, overlooking the harbor. “Cecil, you cannot simply make a statement like that and leave me hanging. What are you talking about?”

  The young man jumped to his feet and began to pace the carpet in agitation. “Have you never heard rumors about the Guardians and their heroic endeavors?”

  Her frown turned to dawning comprehension. “Do you mean Sir Gawain Olwen’s department of the Foreign Office?”

  “Yes, but they do far more than simply report to the Foreign Office. I discovered their existence purely by accident two years ago because I sneaked out of the house one night and rode down the coast. When I spied a lugger putting into a cove, I thought it was a band of smugglers. But I crept close enough to overhear their conversation. They had captured two French spies and were discussing what to do when Mr. Ryder returned from his mission. Mr. Verra was there, and so was Lord Hawkhurst, among others. I still don’t know how they twigged to my presence, but they caught me, and Mr. Verra made me swear I wouldn’t divulge what I had seen. And I haven’t. I’ve kept the secret all this time. But afterward I made it a point to find out everything I could about the Guardians.” He gave Eve a speculative look. “I don’t suppose it would hurt if I merely repeat what I learned from other sources.”

  “What did you learn, Cecil?”

  “That they are a secret order who follow a noble cause. A league of protectors, committed to righting wrongs and fighting injustice and defending the weak and vulnerable.”

  Eve regarded her brother in surprise. “And Sir Alex is a member?”

  “From what I can tell, yes. It stands to reason that he would be, since he’s an expert in weapons and munitions. There aren’t many gentlemen with his skills or his experience. I would give my right arm,” Cecil added earnestly, “to be able to join their order and perform heroic deeds as Sir Alex does. But no doubt their members must prove their qualifications first before being invited to join.”

  Eve found herself deep in thought, remembering how Ryder had explained his work for the Foreign Office. He’d said only that he had turned over a new leaf in an effort to become respectable. He’d made no mention that he was a member of a secret league of protectors.

  It made sense, though. She had always wondered why when he was near, she felt so safe, so secure. He was a protector at heart.

  It was no wonder, either, why Cecil practically worshiped him. For a restless young man like her brother, the lure of a secret league of heroes would be too tantalizing and exciting to resist.

  Cecil had stopped his pacing and was watching her intently. “You need to trust Sir Alex, Evie. He knows better than anyone how to protect people in danger. Macky may be a Guardian as well, for all I know, but I don’t want you to chance it. You could be risking your life, going to Hertfordshire without Sir Alex.”

  Eve hesitated. She wasn’t disputing Ryder’s qualifications in the least. She understood why he inspired fervent loyalty and devotion in her brother. And she agreed to a large extent. Ryder might once have been a mercenary who dealt in danger and death for a living, but now he followed an admirable purpose.

  She had always privately believed that class and title and wealth had little to do with the measure of a man, and Ryder was living proof. He was strong and noble, nothing like the shallow pleasure seeker her husband had been.

  She was even envious of Ryder. He was someone with responsibilities far more important than hers. He led a life that meant something.

  Yet he still wasn’t the right husband for Claire.

  Pushing back her chair, Eve swiveled to face her brother. “Cecil, I admit that Sir Alex is highly qualified to guard me, but I don’t intend on inviting him to Hayden Park. It is much more important that Claire be given the chance to make a suitable match.”

  She was taken aback when Cecil set his jaw stubbornly. “Well, if Sir Alex won’t be attending, then I won’t either. So you can just scratch my chums off your list.”

  To her surprise, his tone held real anger. Then to her complete bafflement, Cecil flung the guest list on her writing desk and stalked from the room, leaving Eve to stew over this newest dilemma.

  She didn’t dare leave her brother here in London all by himself. Nor did she intend to battle with him over the issue.

  No, Eve realized suddenly, she had to take the battle to the source. She would simply have to confer with Ryder. He was a reasonable man—usually. She would ask him to renounce any intention of courting Claire.

  Better yet, she would make him see that he had to be the one to disillusion her sister. The girl was no longer listening to her, Eve knew very well. Therefore, Ryder would have to make Claire abandon the wholly imprudent notion of a union between them.

  When she appeared on his doorstep, Eve was not surprised that the first thing Ryder said was “Where is Macky?”

  She couldn’t fault him for taking her to task, since she should not have come alone, yet she had actually forgotten about the danger. “I left him across the square because I wanted to speak to you in private.”

  A muscle flexed in Ryder’s jaw, but he escorted her into his study and gestured for her to take a seat. Eve preferred to remain standing, however, so Ryder settled one hip on his desktop. “Now, Countess, what is so urgent that you must disobey my direct order?”

  “I expect you know. It is my sister. I hoped you would talk some sense into Claire and convince her to give up this foolish idea of marrying you.”

  Ryder’s eyes held some emotion impossible for her to read. His pose was relaxed, lazy even, as he crossed his arms over his chest. “Lady Claire has all the right qualifications to be my wife.”

  Eve felt herself stiffen. She had hoped Ryder would be reasonable, but it seemed she had some serious persuading to do. “Perhaps she is qualified, but Claire deserves better than a marriage of convenience.”

  “As you suffered.”

  That was as good an argument as any, since she wasn’t about to explain the true source of her discontent to Ryder. “Yes, if you must know…as I suffered.” When he remained silent, Eve tried earnestly to stem her anxiety. “Ryder, you know very well that you and Claire would never suit.”

  “Why not?”

  “Well, for one thing, you are much older than she is.”

  He arched a dubious brow. “My age wasn’t an impediment when you were making up a list of potential brides for me.”

  “Perhaps it isn’t a deterrent for other young ladies. But as a husband, you would be too intimidating for a gentle girl like Claire.”

  He smiled, a cool, dangerous smile. “Claire knows I would never hurt her.”

  “Not intentionally, of course. But you are far more experienced than she.”

  “Physically experienced, you mean.”

  “Yes.”

  Ryder was watching her with an intensity that was unnerving. “Let me see if I take your meaning. You are afraid I am going to debauch your sweet, innocent sister.”

  “No…not debauch—”

  “That is what bothers you the most, isn’t it? The thought of my bedding Claire. So you are riding to her rescue.”

  Eve gave him a look of vexation, not wanting to admit how close Ryder’s conjecture had come to the truth.

  “You aren’t perhaps jealous, are you?” Ryder said in an amused drawl.

  She opened her mouth to issue a denial and shut it again. She refused to confess that jealousy was also driving her. “No, certainly I am not jealous. And in any case, my feelings have nothing to do with the matter. I am interested only in seeing that Claire marries a man who is her ideal match—and you most assuredly ar
e not.”

  A lazy smile touched his lips. “What you are really saying is that I’m not good enough to marry your sister. I am mortally wounded, love.”

  “No,” Eve insisted, “that is not what I am saying. I have no objection to your marrying anyone but Claire. But since she won’t listen to me, it will be up to you to discourage her.”

  He paused a long moment. “Very well. I will see that she gives up any thought of marrying me…on one condition.”

  “Condition?” Eve said cautiously.

  “Come here, sweeting.”

  She tensed with sudden wariness. “Why?”

  “Because I asked you to.” His gaze was a bold and steady challenge, capturing hers and holding it without effort. When he simply waited, Eve reluctantly obeyed, moving to stand before him. She watched in fascination as Ryder reached up to brush her lips with his fingertips.

  When she flinched at even that light touch, his sensual mouth flickered at the corner. “Have no fear, I won’t attack you the way I did yesterday.”

  There was a spark of indulgent teasing in his eyes, yet it didn’t reassure Eve. “What condition?” she repeated with impatience.

  Instead of answering, he tucked an errant tendril behind her ear, letting his fingertips skim the outer rim with the gentlest of caresses.

  Eve stood perfectly still, suddenly unable to move. How had Ryder managed to shift the subject so completely? Indeed, how was he able to make her forget why she was even here?

  He left off toying with her ear and shifted his hand so that his thumb stroked along her jaw. Eve became aware of an abrupt weakness in her limbs. Her mind was filled with the memory of yesterday’s kisses, while her body still wore the burning imprint of his ardent embrace. Don’t think about that, she ordered herself sternly.

  “What condition?” she forced herself to say in a voice far huskier than she would have liked.

  “That you spend one night with me.”

  The silence between them was profound. Eve stared at Ryder, wondering if she had suddenly gone daft—or if he had. “I beg your pardon? What did you say?”

  “You heard me, Countess.”

  She bit back a nervous laugh. “You must be jesting.”

  “Not at all. It is a simple bargain. I won’t attempt to marry your sister if you will spend one night with me in my bed.”

  “What sort of bargain is that?” She took a step backward, out of reach. “The very thought is absurd.”

  “Not in the least. I’m concerned about you, sweetheart. You have let your fear rule you long enough. I deplore the idea of your going through life afraid of physical intimacy.”

  Eve hesitated, and Ryder could see her breath quicken as she struggled for an answer. “I am…not afraid precisely,” she finally said.

  “But you have a warped view of lovemaking. I want to show you another perspective. Carnal relations can be quite remarkable with a man who cares enough to give you pleasure. I mean to prove to you that all men are not like your late churl of a husband.”

  The silence lengthened another dozen heartbeats until finally Eve shook her head. “Ryder, this is outrageous, what you are proposing.”

  “No, one night of passion. That is my condition. Otherwise I can’t agree to put an end to Claire’s hopes of marrying me.”

  Heat flashed in her eyes. “That is blackmail!”

  “So it is,” he replied, forcing his tone to remain mild. It grated on him, having to resort to such underhanded tactics, but Claire was right on that score. He’d made little progress in his clandestine courtship of Eve, and he would have to change his approach if he ever hoped to succeed. He knew Eve would make any sacrifice for her sister; indeed, she would battle to the death to protect any of her family.

  “You are hardly behaving like a gentleman.”

  His mouth quirked with amusement. “I’m not concerned about being thought a gentleman just now. This is solely about you.” When she remained mute, he lifted an eyebrow, feigning innocence. “My interest is purely altruistic, I assure you,” he lied. “I intend to help you conquer your fear of men.”

  In response, Eve squared her shoulders. There was a martial light in her eyes he had never seen before, yet there was also a hint of uncertainty, of vulnerability.

  “You needn’t worry that there will be a repeat of yesterday, Eve,” Ryder said, keeping his tone casual. “I confess it has been a long time since I gratified my carnal desires—not since before coming to London, in fact. But I won’t get carried away again, you have my word.”

  He could see Eve frown as she made the mental calculations, could see the surprise in her searching gaze. Yet he wasn’t simply offering an excuse for his boorish behavior yesterday; he wanted her to understand that he wasn’t keeping a mistress or dallying with demi-reps or indulging in flings with beautiful widows like Phoebe Ferris-Jones, who kept throwing themselves at his feet.

  Clearly the thought startled her. “I never imagined you to be the kind of man who relished celibacy.”

  Ryder smiled. “I don’t, certainly. But I came to London to find a bride, and my social position was precarious enough without being termed a rake as well as a mercenary upstart. Besides, I found no one who interested me.”

  Eve’s brow furrowed dubiously, but all she said was “You cannot be interested in me, Ryder.”

  “Only in an academic way. You are my benefactress, Countess. I would be ten kinds of fool to imperil our association. Oh, my body wants yours,” Ryder added lightly. “I think we proved that quite satisfactorily yesterday. But I can manage to control my lustful urges for one evening.”

  She didn’t quite believe him, he could tell. But Ryder refused to back down. He wanted Eve for his wife, yet physical intimacy was possibly the only way to wear down her defenses. If he could win her body, perhaps he could eventually win her heart. He meant to woo her with passion, with sensuality, with every physical skill he possessed.

  To that end, he softened his tone when he asked, “Can you deny that you want to know what real passion is, Eve?”

  Her lips parted as she stared at him. Eventually she averted her gaze. “I won’t find any pleasure in lovemaking,” she murmured in a barely audible voice.

  “I can promise you will, Eve. You’ve just never had the right lover before. I gave you a taste of it in your library, remember?”

  He could see she was wavering, and Ryder held his breath. He wanted to melt the ice Eve had encased herself in for so long. To release the fire and the passion he knew were inside her. To make her blossom for him and only for him.

  And he suspected that deep down she wanted the same thing.

  She had been asleep for too long, and he intended to change that. At the thought of her sensual awakening, desire stung him with fresh insistence.

  “Your body wants mine,” he pressed, keeping his voice elaborately casual.

  Her unwilling smile was wary and endearing. “I can’t seem to help that.” She cast a sidelong glance at him. “It isn’t fair, you know.”

  “What isn’t fair?”

  “How you use my own desires against me.”

  Ryder hid his relief at her grudging admission, but the tightness in his gut eased a measure. Eve wasn’t fully convinced, yet he could see the longing in her beautiful features as her gaze searched his face.

  “One night, that is all?” she asked, her tone uncertain.

  “Yes, that is all. One night of pure, unadulterated pleasure,” Ryder promised, willing his heart to stop pounding as he waited for her answer.

  Chapter

  Nine

  One night of unadulterated pleasure. Ryder’s outrageous offer echoed tantalizingly in Eve’s ears. The prospect was so incredibly tempting.

  She drew in an unsteady breath, wondering if she dared accept his scandalous proposal. She didn’t think he would actually force her to agree, even if he had made it a condition for his capitulation. No, most likely he was acting for her sake. Ryder felt sorry for her.

&
nbsp; She didn’t like being pitied, Eve thought with a spark of defiance welling in her chest. And yet she couldn’t dispute his reasoning. She had let fear rule her for too long. The very notion of physical intimacy with a man unnerved her—even if that man was Ryder.

  Abruptly Eve shook her head. She couldn’t believe she was actually considering letting herself be lured into a romantic indiscretion with Ryder. Other widows might enjoy such wild conduct, but she had her family to think of. Especially Claire.

  “I couldn’t,” she said finally. “I don’t dare put my reputation at risk, since the slightest hint of scandal could spoil Claire’s chances for a suitable match.”

  “One night together can be managed discreetly.”

  Her brows drew together. “How?”

  “You can leave it to me. I will arrange matters so that we maintain strict secrecy.”

  Eve stared into Ryder’s dark eyes, trying to resist the danger that beckoned and taunted. He was promising a brief affair conducted in secrecy. And she did want to learn to overcome her fear….

  No, she amended, forcing herself to be honest. She wanted more than simply to defeat her fear of carnal relations. The bald truth was, she yearned to experience real passion for once in her life. She had no doubt at all that Ryder could show her.

  What was more, this could be her only chance to be with him. Once Ryder chose a bride, it would be morally reprehensible to indulge in any affair with him.

  “Come now, Countess,” he prodded, his glance holding a hint of wickedness. “Aren’t you the least bit weary of being dutiful and proper?”

  Eve felt no need to respond to his question; he knew the answer to that as well as she did.

  “You deserve a little pleasure in your life. You’ve sacrificed for your family for years, ignoring your own desires.”

  That was true, she had repressed all her own desires, all her hopes and dreams. She had never had the freedom to do what she truly wanted. To live her own life exactly as she wished, with no one controlling her every action or demanding that she behave with the strict propriety due her prominent station.