Fever Dreams

by Nicole Jordan

  But just now Ryder couldn’t force himself. He wanted to make her burn for him as fiercely as he was burning for her.

  Easing his lower body into the cradle of her thighs, he filled his hands with the silky masses of her hair and captured her mouth again, this time with fervor.

  She gave a throaty moan and squeezed her eyes shut, nesting him in her damp, feminine softness, inviting him into her body. Her back arched as he probed her sleek, wet entrance with his shaft. Needing to claim her, he began the slow, blissful slide.

  It was exquisite torment for them both. By the time he thrust into the hot, quivering core of her, Eve was gasping.

  Filled with a fierce tenderness, Ryder sank more fully inside her, heavy and hard and deep, absorbing her, his body buried in hers. He felt bathed in heat, trapped in a web of raw need.

  “God…what you do to me,” he uttered between gritted teeth.

  He locked her hips hard against him and began to move within her, setting an urgent rhythm. He felt as if he were drowning in her scent, her fire.

  Her breath was harsh now, as was his. As if she could no longer control her longing, Eve began to writhe beneath him, a look of ecstasy claiming her features as the pleasure spiraled higher and higher. Ryder grasped her hips harder, urging her on, intensifying his own pleasure as well as hers, till they were both mindless with it.

  Their climax was fierce and powerful, erupting through them in an incredible firestorm, their harsh cries smothered by clinging mouths.

  The experience left them both shaking and struggling for breath.

  In the aftermath, Eve felt the wetness of tears sting her eyes. For a long while, she lay unmoving, cherishing the way Ryder remained cleaved to her, his body part of her own. This was what it was like to feel so close to someone that he seemed like another part of her.

  Her union with Ryder was so much more than physical. Only he could set her on fire with merely a touch. Only he could give her what she inherently craved, this soul-deep, burning passion that seared away all loneliness and fear and replaced it with contentment and bliss.

  Eve closed her eyes, wishing she could control the throat-aching tenderness he aroused in her. What made him so wondrous to her? What made passion burst wild and free inside her when she was with this man?

  Ryder made her feel alive, made her feel joyous—

  She went totally still at the shocking realization. Ryder made her feel happy. How utterly amazing.

  She usually focused her matchmaking efforts on linking couples who presented the greatest promise of happiness, but she had never expected to feel it for herself. At least not happiness with a man.

  Of course, Eve chided herself, she knew what was driving her. It was perfectly reasonable that loneliness and physical need could be powerful forces under specific circumstances, such as the ones that existed with Ryder now. But clearly she had let her cravings get out of control. Her need for him had grown to unmanageable proportions.

  That kind of need frightened her. She had waited far too long for her independence, had endured too many years in virtual servitude, to risk surrendering to a passion that could very well be ephemeral. And even if she doubted Ryder would ever treat her like chattel, there was no question of a marriage between them.

  Ryder wanted an heir. He had told her that was a chief reason he was planning to marry—claiming it was time he settled down and set up his nursery.

  But what if he could possibly be right? What if she wasn’t barren? A fierce ache lodged in her throat. She wanted Ryder’s child. But it was likely a beautiful fantasy, nothing more. One she had no business even considering.

  Alarmed by her thoughts, Eve suddenly sat up, refusing to look at Ryder while she murmured, “We had best return. My guests will be missing me.”

  If her sudden coolness puzzled him, he didn’t let on as he helped her to dress. But then as he was lacing up her corset, she stiffened at the hot press of his lips on her nape.

  “What is wrong, Eve?” Ryder asked softly.

  Turning in his arms, she forced a smile before planting a light kiss on his mouth. “Nothing is wrong. And you had best not entice me any further, or we will never get back in time to change for dinner. I have my reputation to consider, remember?”

  The wicked gleam in his eyes renewed the ache in her throat. “Very well, but only because I care about shielding your reputation. Nothing else could induce me to leave that bed when you’ve barely begun my seduction.”

  Eve gave a small laugh that she meant to be reassuring. She pinned up her hair while he was dressing and then carefully made up the bed, wanting to leave behind no trace of their lovemaking for the servants to find.

  With one last glance around the chamber, she negotiated the stairs on her still-sore ankle and then accompanied Ryder out the front door, where the horse and gig awaited.

  They both came to a halt when they spied a gentleman on horseback riding along the lane at the end of the sweeping drive.

  Eve’s heart sank when she recognized the tall, bulky figure of Viscount Gyllford, and sank even further when the nobleman noticed them as well. As he turned his horse into the drive, she quelled the urge to reach up and check for signs of dishevelment.

  “Lord Gyllford, how surprising to see you here,” she forced herself to comment when he reached them.

  “It is more surprising to see you here, Evelyn.” His frowning countenance held suspicion and an unmistakable dislike directed at Ryder.

  Eve had no choice but to brazen out the encounter. “I was showing Sir Alex the gardens of the dower house. He is considering purchasing his own country estate and is interested in various methods of landscaping.”

  “I can fathom why he would be eager to sniff the blooms,” Gyllford remarked snidely.

  Feeling Ryder go rigid beside her, Eve placed a calming hand on his arm and managed a sweet smile as she gazed up at Gyllford. “I hope you will join us for the pretend fox hunt tomorrow morning, my lord. But then since you are not one to stand on ceremony, you won’t feel compelled to wait for an invitation.”

  Gyllford’s jaw clenched a moment, but he inclined his head with a terse smile of his own. “I thank you, Evelyn. I will be there, certainly.”

  Eve allowed Ryder to assist her into the gig and lifted her hand in farewell at Gyllford, who stared after them as they drove down the drive.

  She remained silent, nursing her anger and dismay, until they were out of earshot. “This is precisely what I feared would happen, my being seen alone with you. I have no doubt he suspects what we have been up to.”

  “It’s none of his business how you conduct yourself with me or anyone else,” Ryder remarked. “But his suspicions hardly matter. What does matter is your safety. I told you, you won’t be attending the hunt tomorrow.”

  Eve felt herself stiffen. “Ryder, I realize my life is at risk, but I don’t intend to abandon my houseguests. I have a responsibility toward them.”

  “And I have a responsibility toward you. If you ride tomorrow, I may not be able to protect you.”

  “I am willing to chance it. I have no intention of remaining locked at home like a caged animal. I endured enough of that during my marriage.” Eve broke off, realizing how high and shrill her tone had become.

  “Besides,” she said more reasonably, “curtailing all my outdoor activities won’t ensure my safety, you know that very well. The danger is almost as great just sitting at home. And you are capable of protecting me in any setting. I have every faith in you.”

  She saw Ryder’s jaw tighten, yet he didn’t reply. When he remained stewing in silence, Eve quelled the urge to justify herself further. Ryder didn’t understand why she couldn’t bear to be caged as she’d been during her marriage, or why she was driven to rebel against his controlling strictures…because they too closely resembled her late husband’s domineering rule.

  Eve exhaled a weary sigh. Perhaps being caught out by Gyllford was fortunate, for it reminded her that she had let her relati
onship with Ryder go much too far, just as she’d feared it would. She had been a fool to let it go on for so long.

  There could be no further intimacies between them, she knew. They simply could not continue a passionate liaison that would lead to nowhere.

  Even if ending it would be infinitely harder, Eve realized with dismay, now that she had admitted to herself how much Ryder was coming to mean to her.

  Chapter

  Fourteen

  “So, Sir Alex,” Claire murmured curiously, “how fares your courtship of Eve?”

  Ryder could scarcely hear the question over the jovial chatter in the crowded stableyard.

  Clearly Eve’s guests considered a foxless fox hunt a delightful entertainment. The participants were milling gaily about the yard, quaffing mulled cider in the pleasant late-morning air and waiting for their mounts, while grooms scurried to and fro, leading saddle horses and harnessing carriages for those guests who preferred to act merely as spectators.

  Ryder watched the commotion with barely concealed disapproval. Moments ago Eve had again dismissed his admonition to remain at home, even knowing such prominent exposure put her at greater risk.

  “My courtship is proceeding well enough, minx,” Ryder said, having no intention of expounding further. “I could ask the same of you. How fares your own campaign to find a husband?”

  Claire made a wry face. “Lamentably, I fear. I don’t mean to complain when Eve has gone to such great trouble for me, but I cannot drum up interest in any of my suitors, even the ones who claim to be positively dying of love for me.”

  They both watched Eve a short distance away, calmly giving instructions to her head groom in the midst of the chaos. Macky stood nearby, keeping a protective eye on her as well.

  “You have known Mr. Macklin for a long time, have you not?” Claire queried.

  Her tone was casual, but Ryder sensed more than mere curiosity behind the question. He’d observed Macky and Claire together more than once this past week, and wondered if there might not be a romantic interest blossoming between the two of them.

  Claire clearly favored Macky’s company over that of her wealthy highborn suitors. And Macky seemed in unexpected danger of becoming enamored of the quiet young beauty, much to Ryder’s amazement. The former actor had always claimed he would never bestow his affections on a single lass when there were so many to be sampled. But it appeared Macky was reconsidering.

  “I’ve known him for a number of years,” Ryder replied with caution.

  “Then you can vouch for his character?”

  “Wholly and completely. It would be hard to find a better man anywhere.”

  Claire nodded with satisfaction. “I thought so.”

  Ryder eyed her with faint amusement. “Do I detect a budding romance in the wind, my lady?”

  Her violent blush betrayed her. “Honestly, I do not know. I am not at all certain how Macky feels about me.”

  “But your affections are becoming engaged.”

  “I…well…I must admit they are. He certainly is the most interesting man I have ever met.” She stole a glance up at Ryder. “I have not said anything to Eve, for I doubt she would understand. Mr. Macklin is not the kind of suitor she has in mind for me, and she wants so badly for me to find a husband who is the right match for me. And of course I could never tell the aunts, for they would consider him entirely unsuitable. In any event, until I know my own mind—and Mr. Macklin’s—there is no point in making known an association that may lead to nowhere.”

  “Your secret is safe with me, sweetheart,” Ryder said as her twin brother strode across the stableyard toward them, leading his mount.

  Since Eve had persuaded Cecil to play the “fox,” he was wearing a fox-fur stole around his neck. He was also looking highly uncomfortable and trying his best to ignore the teasing directed his way by some of the younger male guests.

  Coming to a halt before his twin, he gave Ryder a sheepish grin. “I look like a damned fool, I know. I never should have let Evie talk me into this. We would have done better to hold a real hunt.”

  “We ladies would beg to differ,” Claire responded. “A pretend hunt is much better than galloping after a braying pack of hounds only to execute a poor little fox.”

  Cecil scoffed. “There is nothing poor about a fox. They are vermin who raid henhouses and terrorize sheep and prove an all-around nuisance.”

  Their argument was interrupted when Eve called for silence. A hush fell over the stableyard as she explained how the game was to be conducted.

  They would give the fox a five-minute head start. Then the hunters would mount up and ride to a nearby meadow where the hunt would begin, led by a Master of Hounds, who was being played by one of the young nobleman guests, Lord Trafer. The object was to corner the fox and retrieve the stole from around his neck. Meanwhile, the elderly ladies, including the aunts and the Duchess of Gower, would be conveyed in carriages to watch the hunt from a rise that offered an expansive view of the countryside.

  “I fear that is my cue to depart,” Cecil muttered, turning to mount his horse.

  As he rode away, his twin called after him to wish him good luck, and so did Eve.

  Eve looked grimly determined to enjoy the morning, Ryder noted. She kept a smile pasted on her face, even when she had to suffer the attentions of Viscount Gyllford, who assisted her into her sidesaddle. The nobleman was clearly too obtuse to realize his gallantry was unwanted, but Ryder had to give him credit for persistence if not brains.

  There was much laughter and revelry as the riders set out en masse a short while later. Ryder remained a few horse-lengths behind Eve, while Macky rode near Claire as her groom and another of his footmen accompanied the aunts in their carriage.

  When the hunters reached the designated meadow, an excited hush fell over the crowd as they scanned the woods surrounding the field. The excitement intensified when they spied a glimpse of the “fox” hiding in a distant glade. Playing his role as Master, Lord Trafer sounded the cry and they were off amid shouts of glee and laughter.

  The leaders, including Eve and Lord Gyllford, maintained a brisk pace, while the others settled for a more leisurely canter.

  Ryder stayed with Eve as they dashed across the countryside, taking hedges and ditches and streams in their path, but it required all his skills to keep up. Despite his anger at her foolhardiness in attending the hunt, he found himself admiring her superb horsemanship as her mount effortlessly soared over a wooden coop ahead.

  The gray gelding landed smoothly on the other side, then suddenly let out a squeal of pain and flung his head up. Looking wild-eyed, the horse gave a great buck, as if trying to unseat his rider. When that failed, he whirled in a dizzying circle, heedless of the other participants coming up behind him.

  Eve had lost the reins when she was thrown onto the maddened animal’s neck, Ryder saw with grim dismay, and she held on for dear life when the gray changed tactics and bolted into a full gallop. Her mount was running away with her, he realized, his heart plunging to his stomach.

  Before he could get free of the crowded field, he heard Lord Gyllford shout, “Hold on, Evelyn! I will save you!”

  Spurring his mount into a gallop, Gyllford took off after her, which only frightened her panicky horse further. Ryder breathed an oath and then a prayer as he followed in their wake.

  Eve was still clinging to the gray’s neck, desperately hauling on one rein, trying to turn the crazed animal in a circle in a futile effort to slow him. But they were heading directly for a stretch of ash trees that lined the riverbank, making Ryder keenly aware of the new danger. Even if she could manage to hold on, plunging into the dense woods at this speed could be deadly.

  Making a swift decision, Ryder veered to his left and raced across the next field in an attempt to cut her off. To his everlasting gratitude, he caught up to Eve a dozen lengths before she reached the tree line.

  Galloping neck and neck alongside her, Ryder leaned out and scooped Eve up by th
e waist and hauled her to safety in front of him.

  Without the painful weight on his back, the gray came to a halt just before reaching the woods and stood there, shaking and blowing heavily and rolling his eyes.

  Eve clung weakly to Ryder, trying to catch her breath, while his terrified heart pounded in relief.

  Gyllford thundered up behind them, breathing hard and scowling at Ryder. “There was no need for you to act,” the nobleman said plaintively. “I would have rescued her.”

  Astounded by the absurd declaration, Ryder sent Gyllford a scathing stare, then scowled at Eve, as angry at her for putting herself at risk as at himself for allowing it. “Damnation, I told you not to come today! You could have been killed! Are you all right?”

  She swallowed hard and then nodded. “I don’t know what happened. One moment we were taking the fence, and the next, my horse went mad.”

  “I know,” Ryder said grimly. “Something made him bolt like that. Stay here while I check him out. Don’t move.”

  He felt Eve stiffen at his harsh command but gave her no chance to argue. Leaving her on his mount, he swung down and crossed to the gray, who hung his head now, trembling in exhaustion and sweating profusely. At his approach, the horse suddenly became alert and tried to skitter away, but Ryder caught the reins and spoke soothingly to the animal while gently stroking his sweat-dampened muzzle.

  After a moment, the gray quieted enough to allow an examination. Ryder ran his hands carefully over the horse’s steaming body and legs, searching for injuries. When he found none, he unfastened the girth so he could inspect the sidesaddle and pad beneath.

  The horse had gone rigid in anticipation of pain, Ryder noted, and as he gingerly lifted the bottom pad, he could hear other guests riding up, inquiring worriedly after Eve.

  “Stay back,” Ryder warned sharply at the same time Eve held up her hand to keep the hunters from startling her horse further.