by Ruby Duvall
Still, what an asshole.
“Ryder doesn’t discuss his plans with me for his father’s business. The details bore me.” She couldn’t help throwing his words back at him, which he seemed to enjoy as his smile only broadened.
“No, I suppose not.”
Mary passed through the parlor again and Sam couldn’t help glancing at the maid, who gave her a subtle nod. Sam tried to excuse her distraction.
“Is the tea almost ready?”
“Yes, miss. I’ll be out shortly.” Mary disappeared into the kitchen again and Sam heard the clinking of teacups. When she looked at Webb again, he was looking at her oddly. She saw something in his eyes she didn’t like.
“Where is Mr. West? Visiting his father while he has the chance?”
Sam knew exactly where Ryder was—the bank—but she saw no reason why Webb should know that. “He comes and goes without telling me his business, Mr. Webb. You seem to think I know such things.”
“I hardly believe that his driver knows more of his life than you do.”
Mary emerged with a tray of tea and Sam nearly stood and cheered. The maid was stone-faced as she set down the teacups.
“Perhaps you should talk with his driver then,” Sam offered. Webb shook his head when Mary offered him sugar.
“The man refuses to offer anything more than the hope of my imminent demise, Miss Reed.” Sam couldn’t help a small smile at that. Way to go, Oliver.
“Anything else, miss?” Mary asked.
Sam shook her head. “Thank you.” Mary returned to the kitchen.
For a tense moment, Webb sipped his tea silently and stared at her. The delicate teacup seemed doomed in his large hands. Sam drank as quickly as the scalding-hot tea would allow, though she scrambled for a way to ask about Ryder’s mother. Hey, remember that time you threatened to kill Ryder? Why did you say his dad offed his mom? That so wouldn’t work.
“You know much more than you say, Miss Reed.” Webb’s jaw was set. She set down her teacup, refusing to lower her eyes.
“What makes you say that?”
“That moment in Vauxhall when Mr. West accused me of an attraction and you touched his arm. He is possessive, yet he acquiesced to you. Your relationship is not as casual as you would have me perceive. I believe he loves you.”
That got a reaction from her. Her face flushed and she broke off their staring contest. Damn it.
Webb chuckled softly. “You liked hearing that. How sweet.”
“You’re embarrassing me, Mr. Webb. I told you I didn’t want to talk about that night.” She picked up her tea again and sipped. Why did Mary make it so hot?
“Why did your maid go upstairs?”
Her stomach dropped and she paused mid-sip. She wrestled to keep any concern from her face. “She has many tasks, so I wouldn’t—”
“I know you whispered something to her.”
Sam couldn’t help a brief stutter. “I was just warning her who you were. She used to work at the—the brothel.”
Webb set down his tea and stood, but Sam didn’t dare hope he was getting ready to leave. He walked to the stairs.
She hastily set down her tea and went after him. “What do you think you’re doing?” Oh God. Mary had hidden the ledgers but had she hidden them well enough? What if he tried to turn out the entire room?
Mary came out of the kitchen, her hands over her mouth, just as Sam chased Webb up the stairs. He took the steps two at a time while she was forced to stumble up in her cumbersome skirt. When she came into the bedroom, he was tossing the bedclothes and searching under the mattress.
“You have absolutely no right to be in here.”
Webb spoke without stopping. “I know she was hiding something. I shall find it.” He emptied a drawer full of her stockings and ribbons. How was she going to stop him? He had the strength to make her regret physically intervening. Ryder wasn’t here and she wasn’t going to ask Mary to help gang up on him.
“Did you love Ryder’s mother?”
Webb froze. He had completely pulled a drawer from its dresser and dumped the contents on the floor. The empty drawer was in his hands when he turned to her. The pain in his expression was more of an answer than anything he might’ve said.
He had known Ryder’s mother and had loved her. Was she already married to Ryder’s father at the time? More importantly…
“Why did you say his father killed her?”
Feet stamped up the stairs and Mary appeared behind her with some kind of fireplace implement. Webb came out of whatever memory he was reliving and backed up a step. “Don’t you touch her!” Mary darted past Sam into the room and brandished her makeshift weapon.
“Whoa there.” Sam stepped into the room and reached for the poker. “It’s all right now. Mr. Webb is leaving.” Mary lowered her arms. Webb blinked rapidly and looked about the room. He found his hat on the bed and picked it up.
His voice was rough. “I’ll not torture myself further.” He walked past them and Sam followed him to the front door. The relief that he hadn’t found the ledgers nearly had her stumbling.
Outside, he turned at the bottom of the steps to look at her, one foot still resting on the last step. “I have not given you any credit, madam. It’s clearer to me now that you are a woman of worth and far more intelligent than I had so unfairly assumed.” He reached out and brushed her skirt. “You may think I have no good opinion of Ryder West, but having met you, I think better of him.”
His admission shouldn’t have meant anything to her, but too many men lately had made it clear that they thought women inferior. She managed a small smile and nodded. With that, he fit his hat to his head and walked away.
* * * * *
Ryder barely saw the passing homes as he mulled yet again over the many tasks ahead of him in the next few days—the postal packet to Le Havre, the rendezvous with the ship, the landing and transport to London. He had a buyer for the last of the tea, and though not all the tubs of brandy had been marked for buyers, it would be the easiest commodity in their inventory to sell, especially after Kelter let it down and added caramel for color. The profit margin would be especially good on those tubs.
His legs grew restless as the coach neared his apartment. He would not see Samantha for several days and he was anxious to get her to bed. Already his palms itched to fill his hands with her hair, and he knew she wore her green stockings.
That very head of red hair caught his attention as the coach slowed. Samantha was outside, her hair in disarray. Webb was in front of her. Was he harassing her now that it was plain he would learn nothing from Oliver? Her cold expression gave Ryder his answer. He saw Webb touch her skirt, his hat over his heart as he spoke.
Samantha smiled.
What was this? Ryder nearly burst from the coach before the horses were reined. He recalled with rancor the moment at Vauxhall when Webb had spoken to Samantha and the bare need on the revenue officer’s face. She admitted she had flirted with him. What had been the purpose of Webb’s visit?
Had it been planned?
The man was walking away when Ryder burst from the coach. His feet met the street. He strained to keep hold of his temper and learn the reason for Webb’s presence. With her eyes watching Webb’s leave-taking, Samantha didn’t notice Ryder had returned until he was practically in front of her. She gasped. On her face was shock. Panic.
Guilt.
She held up her hands in placation. “E-everything’s okay.”
Damn everything. He couldn’t speak past the ball of rage choking him. He captured her wrist in his fist and pulled her into the apartment. He saw the maid from the corner of his eye in the parlor. She held two teacups in shaking hands. Had she known Webb would visit?
Had he visited before?
Samantha pulled against his grasp. “He wasn’t here long. Calm down!”
The bedroom. Ryder dragged Samantha upstairs, praying that nothing was amiss. She tripped halfway up the stairs and he pulled her to her feet. The bedroo
m door was open and inside…
All he could see was the bed. The mattress was out of place, the blankets tossed aside. They had used it.
“I didn’t know what to do,” she pleaded. His eyes went wide and he sucked in a deep breath through his nose.
“What did he touch?”
“Just a couple of things—”
Ryder pulled her to the center of the room and forced her to turn around. He pushed aside the back pleats.
“Wh-what are you doing?”
“Quiet.” It was but a moment until the fitted bodice was loose enough that he could push the dress from her arms and past her legs. A tug and her panniers dropped to the floor. He gripped her arm and pulled her out of the pool of brocade at her feet. He noticed she still wore her shoes.
“I don’t understand why you’re doing this.” He heard a tremor in her voice.
A growl rose from his throat. “He touched you and I cannot abide that. I need to wash him from you.”
“He didn’t touch me.” Confusion was plain on her face but surely it was a ruse.
His temper flared. “I saw you smiling at him. Your hair is mussed and the bed…” He couldn’t say it. “Don’t play games with me. I know it wasn’t your choice to lie with the duke, but—”
“Ryder—”
“You’ll not share yourself with another man.”
She twisted in his hold to capture his face between her hands. “Ryder, listen to me! You’re the only man I’ve ever had sex with. I didn’t sleep with Webb. He just showed up and I thought I could, I don’t know, learn something to help you, maybe find out why he hates your father so much.”
He could barely follow her after she said “only man”. The pressure on his heart eased just a little. “The duke?” The voice didn’t sound like his. It was too hoarse and needful.
Samantha sighed. “God, I didn’t know you had found out about him. I didn’t want to be in that room but they threatened me and…anyway, he was about to—but before he could—he was impotent.”
The air in his lungs came out in a rush.
She released his face and her hands dropped to his shoulders. “I even gave him advice on seducing his wife. He fell asleep before Mrs. Hayes found us. I…I put laudanum in his wine.”
“The bed?”
“Webb thought he’d find something incriminating. It was my fault. I whispered to Mary to hide the ledgers and he knew something was up. I tried to stop him but he was so angry and throwing everything around.” It was then Ryder recognized the obvious mess of underthings on the floor and the empty drawers. “Mary, she was great. She ran up here with a poker.”
Ryder could barely contain the well of emotions. Such relief and such shame and contrition. He had stripped her dress, had accused her of sharing a bed with another.
She had not. She had sought to learn his adversary’s motivations and protect their secret enterprise.
He was the only man with whom she had lain. He knew it should not matter if she had ever taken another to her bed but he wished her heart to be filled only with him, just as she alone filled his heart.
Her hand touched his cheek. “Ryder?”
If he put his hands on her now, he would not be able to stop himself. He pulled away from her touch and went to the top of the stairs. Mary and Oliver both waited in the downstairs hallway, their mouths round as they stared up at him with concern.
“Go and get yourselves something to eat at the tavern. Now.”
Two heads nodded and they shut the front door behind them. He returned to the bedroom.
And firmly shut the door.
Sam knew that look and damn, was it intense. She hated his possessiveness and his jealousy but when she thought of Ryder with another woman…
Well, you’d have to hold her back.
Strange, she had never felt so strongly even at her happiest with Brian, a memory that seriously paled in comparison to the weeks she had known Ryder.
He didn’t say a word as he shed his black coat, as he tugged loose his cravat and unbuttoned his vest. His chest expanded and contracted with his deep, heavy breaths as he dropped his vest and yanked the cravat from his neck. His eyes traveled across her body while he kicked off his shoes. Realizing she still wore hers, though the muddy pattens had stayed at the front door, she leaned down to slip them off.
“No.” The word was hard and loud.
It was her turn to breathe hard. When had it become so warm in here?
He whipped off his belt and then his shirt was on the floor with the rest of the mess. The muscles of his broad chest rolled beneath smooth skin as he tore open the front of his breeches and shoved them past his hips. His hose were last and then he stood there naked. His erection proudly jutted out.
Her vision glazed over as he approached, chin down and jaw set. Her mind teased her with fantasies of what he was about to do. He pointed at the floor and twirled his finger.
She turned around. Her heart raced. His hands went to the laces of her corset and he was much faster at loosening them than Mary was at tightening them. She wondered absently if he would be as adept when faced with the modern version. Yeah, right. He’d probably be a master at bra removal.
Sam used the bedpost for balance to step out of the corset and Ryder unceremoniously pulled her chemise over her head, leaving her in nothing but stockings and shoes. She heard him make a noise, a low, breathy groan.
When he still didn’t touch her, she looked over her shoulder at him. Was he shaking?
She breathed his name and turned to grasp him to her. She fit their mouths together and those thick arms held her close, trapping his erection between them. Her shoes boosted her up a couple of inches, redundant on an already tall woman, but Ryder was even taller and those precious inches made it easier to put everything she had into kissing him.
Ryder made a rough, plaintive noise against her lips. His hands went to her ass and squeezed. His kiss became frenzied and the pressure of his mouth made her grip his shoulders to keep her balance. She tried to soothe him, stroking his neck and attempting to slow the pace of their intense make-out, but his body remained tight. He was frantic to taste her. His tongue plunged into her mouth as though this kiss would be their last.
He lifted her and she gasped against his lips. One of his arms crossed under her and his other hand went to the base of her neck. He carried her onto the bed, walking across the mattress on his knees. She yelped as he put those amazing muscles to use and lowered her to the pillows, still kissing her. His large body settled over her, his hand caressing the curve of her waist and hip. His mouth grew gentler, but his cock was rock hard against her abdomen.
Her shoes were still on her feet. She reached to pull them off but he lifted his mouth. “Leave them.” His expression was raw. His eyebrows were turned up and he panted through a stiff jaw. She swallowed and licked her swollen lips. He watched her tongue and seemed to contemplate another kiss.
He kissed her neck instead, but he didn’t stay there. He moved down her body, pressing his lips to one shoulder, then the other, the dip in her throat, the skin over her heart. His hands were greedy, fully palming both her breasts and rolling the firm flesh. He brought her nipple to his mouth and sealed his lips around it.
Her back arched. “Ryder.” His tongue rapidly flicked the tip, swirled around it. He gently grazed it with his teeth and made her hiss at the sizzle that shot straight to her clit. The way he moaned as he spent some quality time tasting and fondling her breasts was just as arousing as how it felt.
When he gave her a brief reprieve, she expected him to return to her mouth and fit his hips between her thighs, but his mouth went lower, pressing kisses across her abdomen.
Oh God.
She leaned up on one elbow and her hand went to his forehead to push him away. “Y-you don’t have to…” Why the hell was she doing this? He had made love to her so many times and now she was getting embarrassed?
He pulled her hand away from his head and didn’t let i
t go. “No man has done this to you.” His expression turned desperate as though saying it aloud increased the appeal. “I want to consume you.”
Her cheeks lit up and her head was swimming. Christ, she wanted that too, all of a sudden. She couldn’t move, couldn’t look away from the primal need in his face. He took her silence for permission and released her hand, continuing down. He lifted her thighs and braced them on his shoulders.
She was panting. “Oh Jesus.” He sucked the flesh over her hips. He licked the bare skin above the ribbons holding up her stockings. She felt especially sensitive and every kiss made her legs jerk. His breath blew across the hairs over her vagina. His nose nuzzled the curls. She whimpered.
He gently parted her lips and she keened. She had never been so wet in her life. He let out a needy sigh and then dove in.
“Ah Ryder!” She fell back and her fingers tangled in his hair. Her lungs struggled for air as she tried to comprehend the sensation of his tongue stroking and lapping and plunging. His shoulders flexed. His hands slid to the inside of her thighs and parted her legs wide.
Then he found her clit and she nearly threw him off. She was like a puppet and his tongue controlled the string. Her fist in his hair pulled him closer and he hummed against her flesh. The vibration was amazing, and when he sucked her clit between his lips and buffed it with his tongue, she thought she went blind.
She braced the heels of her shoes and pushed against his mouth, but he clamped her hips down with his hands. She didn’t know how much time passed, if she endured his expert tongue for one minute or twenty. The train was coming and she just watched it from her spot on the track. Her choked moans grew louder. Spasms racked her body. Her skin was slick with sweat. Her clit buzzed and her vagina was swollen.
She arched her back and dug her shoes into the mattress. A harsh sound came out of her. It was his name. If she could open her eyes, she knew her vision would swim.
The warmth of his mouth disappeared and her knees touched her shoulders. A weak gasp left her as his cock penetrated, thick and very hard. Her vagina still throbbed around the stiff flesh, which thrust fast and deep.