by Claudy Conn
“Still upstairs asleep …”
“Good. Ben, that awful beast, Omsbury, came to see me last night … while we were playing … but never mind that. He was most audacious and threatening. He has purchased the notes out from under us!”
“I know,” Ben said on a defeated note.
“I mean to settle this once and for all and put the devil in his place.”
“Jewels—you are worrying me …”
“Not Jewels—she can do no more but hand the matter over to Babette—”
“Jewels, I have been thinking about this …” He tried to interrupt.
“Babette will do more than deal Faro. I am going to beat him in Piquet, myself … as Babette … for the house!”
“You will do no such thing!”
“I will … and I will make the house enough money to kick him in the—”
“Jewels!” He stopped her then and shook his head as one finger up in the air stilled her argument. “I will not allow it. He will see through your disguise at such close contact.”
She pouted and conceded. “Very well … but in the meantime, I want you and Lyla to come to lunch. Elizabeth would like that …” She had the satisfaction of seeing the color rise to his cheeks.
“That wouldn’t be wise, Jewels … you know, I am not in a position to … to …”
“To what … have a bite to eat with friends? Nonsense. Bring Lyla and come to lunch.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said and inclined his head.
*
At the White Stag Ryker became engrossed in a lively conversation with two gentlemen who had arrived some minutes after him in search of a room. It appeared a pugilism match was scheduled during the week, and nearly every inn on Wight was completely booked. The young men were in high spirits, and although they sat at another table, they maintained a lively banter. Ryker enjoyed listening to their hearty conversation while he sipped his coffee and added a few sentences regarding the upcoming event.
They were fair, they were young, and they were probably not much older than Jimmy. Ryker rather liked them until one of them put down his pewter of ale and remarked, “By Jove! Look at that rough and tumble stunning piece of flesh. Every inch of her made for tossing!”
Ryker’s gray eyes hardened, and for no particular reason he felt like punching the poor fellow in the nose; then he saw how they must see Jewels, and he wanted to take her over his knee.
He said curtly, “Excuse me, gentlemen.” He was up and marching across the room to intercept Jewel’s further entrance into the main hall. He took her arm roughly and steered her forcibly around toward the exit and out of their sight.
“What the deuce do you think you are doing?” She gasped.
He was furious and couldn’t say why. How she behaved or dressed had naught to do with him. However, he owed it to her aunt to see her safely away from the manly crew inhabiting the inn at the moment.
Also, he owed it to his mother, as long as he was a guest in the Henshaw House, to look out for the wayward chit. He owed it to … damnation to hell … she was the devil of a hoyden that wanted manners!
“Devil is in it, Jewels … I am doing what is necessary. Have you no sense walking into a public galley dressed as you are, inviting insult to yourself and your family name?”
Jewels blushed. Indeed, he wasn’t a dunce and could see from her reaction that she had not set out to buck the proprieties by gadding about in her buckskin riding clothes. No doubt it was an informal style she had adopted at home that had carried over and had been loosely accepted by the town. She hadn’t realized how many strangers would be at the inn for the upcoming event.
He could see also by the sparkle of her green eyes that she was now on the defensive, and something inside him lit with amusement. “How the devil was I to tell you I was ready to return home? Surely you didn’t expect me to stand about outside?” she snapped.
“I expected you to send me word. That is what those link boys out there are for,” he said glibly.
He watched her bite her bottom lip and wished it was his teeth nibbling there, his mouth on hers, his tongue plunging into her …
She turned and marched out of the inn. He followed and heard one of the men at his back say, “I’d follow that butt as well …” He did just that, deciding not to take the fellow to task for his comments.
Outside and mounted on their horses, he said softly, “I seem to remember, Jewelene, a promise to give me a tour of Yarmouth Castle …”
She glanced sidewise at him. “It doesn’t open until later. Perhaps Jimmy will give you a tour another time.” Her tone was snappish, and she definitely cold shouldered him.
“The promise came from you. I expect you to keep it …” he said pointedly.
“Very well, but you won’t enjoy it,” she snapped.
“That is probably true,” he bantered. She eyed him with the hint of a smile in her eyes, and he laughed out loud. “Do you always torture anyone who has displeased you?”
“Always. I am most spiteful.”
“I find that hard to believe … and I am certain you are not so … to one man at least …”
She eyed him and frowned. “Who are you speaking of?”
“A very fine-looking gentleman—I noticed you with him earlier in town.”
“Oh … Ben? A family friend,” she said quietly. “You will meet him later … he and his sister are coming to tea. Oh and I am ravenous—are you?”
He looked at her lips purposely, traveled that line down her neck, lingered at her breasts, back to her lips and then met her eyes before he answered low and provocatively, “A good way to describe it, beauty … a very good way …”
He saw her blush and had a strong desire to pull up their horses and carry her off her horse and into his arms. He wondered what it would be like to rip off her clothing and watch that blush cover her body—damn, his hard-on was pressing up between horse and breeches, and, bloody hell, he needed to adjust himself!
*
Ryker and Robby emerged from the stables, pausing for a moment to allow Jimmy to catch up to them. They had taken a walk to the training pen to watch Lightning perform and were absorbed in their discussion regarding the horse’s chances. However, the sound of carriage wheels made them turn their heads, and Sir James’s smile widened when he saw who was coming up the drive.
“Ben! Lyla … this is famous! Do you come to lunch? I didn’t know. My dratted sister forgot to inform me.’
Ryker watched the greeting between Ben Clay and Sir James and noted the military cut of Ben’s well-fitting coat, the shine of his Hessians, the attractiveness of his countenance, and the empty sleeve. He frowned, curious, before his eyes found Lyla Clay.
Jimmy hurriedly made the introductions, and Lyla turned an inviting smile at Robby, believing him to be the Marquis of Lyndhurst. Ryker had to wonder just what Jewels was up to, throwing such a bold chit at the man she believed was titled and wealthy. He had thought she wanted the marquis and Elizabeth to make a match of it. Jewels was full of surprises.
Jimmy was excited and pleased to see Ben and told him happily, “Come on, leave your carriage here—our man will see to it—and we’ll walk up to the house. Ah, here is Lizzie and Jewels to bear us company!”
Ben had already jumped down easily from the carriage and aided his pretty sister before relinquishing her company to Robby, whom she was bent on showering with conversation and charm.
Jewels went right up to Ben, and Ryker noticed that as she went up onto tippy toes to kiss his cheek, it was sisterly, or at least it looked so to him.
“Ben, here is Elizabeth, who has just been telling me about her last visit to town, when she bumped into you …” Jewelene said as she pulled the two together.
“Miss Debbs,” he said softly as he gazed down at her. “It is a pleasure to see you again. Have you finished that shawl you came in to town to get yarn for?”
“Yes, I have, and Mama is wearing it today, so you may tell me what you think�
�thank you, Mr. Clay,” Elizabeth said, looking at her shoes and blushing to the roots of her soft brown hair.
Jewelene smiled and stuck in, “Lizzie, do not be so formal—take Ben inside, for I am certain Auntie is waiting for all of us, and do start calling him Ben. It would make us all more comfortable, and I insist he call you Elizabeth or Lizzie … pick one, for it must not be stuffy Miss Debbs …”
They laughed, and Ben said, “She is a tyrant …”
“She is, but she is right—pick one … er … Ben, which do you prefer, Lizzie or Elizabeth?”
“Elizabeth,” he said and looked full into her eyes while Jewelene watched with keen interest and Ryker continued to watch it all.
“Then shall we go tell my mother she is about to be descended upon … Ben?” Elizabeth suggested.
Ryker was at Jewelene’s side. Imperceptibly his hand went to her waist and drew her close, so close that he could feel the firmness of her provocative body as he leaned in. His lips touching her ear, he whispered, “You play a deep game, love …” Did she shiver next to him? He was sure her felt her body tremble to his touch; the notion excited him.
She turned to look up at him, and for a moment they were suspended in time and he thought he was going to have to kiss her, the company be damned. He discovered her bright green eyes looking up into his, her cherry lips parted, and all he wanted was to stick his tongue down her throat—hell, he wanted to lay her down on the ground and …
*
What was wrong with her? When he had leaned in close and whispered in her ear, she had wanted him to take her in his arms and kiss her … she had wanted him to rip off her clothes and make wild, unrestrained love to her—she had wanted, wanted, wanted …
All she had been doing since he arrived at Henshaw was dream about him. What the deuce was wrong with her? Ryker had exploded into her mind, and she could think of little else. When she wasn’t getting an up-close visual of him, she was silently, secretly mooning about him, wondering what it would be like to be in his big, strong arms—wondering what it would be like for him to touch her and …
It had to stop. It just had to stop.
What did he mean when he had said she was playing a deep game? She conceded to herself that he was correct and that she was indeed, playing a deep game, but how could he know it? How could he possibly know what she was doing? And she was only doing what needed to be done.
Those two, Ben and Lizzie, made eyes at one another every single time they happened to bump into one another in town, and it had been going on for months with little or no progress, but did either one do anything about it? No.
Elizabeth wouldn’t because she was so painfully shy. Ben wouldn’t because he didn’t think he had anything to offer a woman. Well, matters needed tending, and she was just the one to take them into her hands and manage them thoroughly.
As to the situation with Lyla the sly—whom Jimmy liked way too much, although he denied it—well, Jimmy was too young. Best if Lyla were to form an interest in the marquis; if Lyla were to ensnare him, that was fine and dandy, for he was old enough to take care of himself!
Humph, thought Jewelene to herself as they reached the house—luncheon was just the thing to get everyone in their correct line and follow her plans.
However, there is a grave and wide distance between theory and action.
*
No sooner was she inside than Jewelene was taken aside by her servant Stanton and presented with a note. She frowned to see Omsbury’s seal and excused herself from the party, telling them she would join them in a moment. Satisfied that she was alone, she read:
Jewelene,
You have another week in which to make up your mind to it. I want you and can no longer wait. I hold several mortgage notes over you friend Clay’s head. They all fall due in less than two week’s time.
To put it delicately, he could lose everything he has. Could—but, of course, need not. It will depend on my mood two weeks hence.
Your obedient,
Omsbury
Jewelene looked up to find Ben standing in the hallway watching her face before he was on the move and taking three hard strides to get to her. “What is it, Jewels …?”
She did not hesitate as she put the note in his hands. His expression grew violent as he quickly read the note and then crushed it. “Villain! I’ll break his legs for this!”
“Now, Ben …” She placed a restraining hand on his arm, for he appeared to have every intention of carrying out his threat immediately. “We will come up with the money. Doesn’t my Babette plan look better to you already? By the way, I had Stanton take out my livery bag to your carriage … for later.”
“We’ll come up with the money, and then I will run him through!” he said, seething.
“Yes, I like that, but first the money …”
Both her brother and Ryker were at the dining room door looking out and down the hallway at them. So she stilled him with a cautious look and said, “Come now, Ben …” Then she put on a smile. “La … I am starving …”
*
Jewels held the skirt of her tightly fitted green velvet robe as she left her room at her back, intending to make her way to the kitchen, where she had stashed her change of clothing earlier. The hour was late as she tiptoed down the dark hallway to the head of the wide staircase. So far everything was going according to plan. Her brother had left thirty minutes earlier to spend the night with friends, and Elizabeth and Aunt Dora were also out for the evening visiting with neighbors.
Robby and Ryker had announced earlier that they meant to take the short ride into town, for a bit of sport, and Jewels had listened, waiting for the front door to close and signify that the two men had also left.
That was the major problem she would have to deal with, because they had mentioned something at dinner about looking in at the Silver Heart. Tonight would be her first night dealing at the Faro table as Babette. However, she was sure that neither Robby nor Ryker knew her well enough to see through her disguise, especially since the mask would hide some of her face. No doubt they would be busy gambling.
She would be very careful and maintain a French accent as well as an entirely different façade, and no one would guess that Babette had a very real alter ego.
She just had to make it to the head of the stairs. She peered through the darkness as she reached for the railing to help her along, since she had not bothered to light and bring a candle. She was not expecting anyone to be up and about; Stanton and the housekeeper had retired at least an hour ago to their own quarters. Thus, as she reached for the railing she was totally startled and nearly screamed when a voice just before her softly said, “Now … whatever are you doing stealing about at this hour …?”
Jewels steadied herself and managed to answer, hand to chest, “As to that, I can’t be accused of stealing about in my own home … and ’tis only about nine or so … and I might ask, what are you doing walking about in the dark, Ryker?”
He had already spanned the distance between them, his voice low, husky, and hungry as he took her in his arms and whispered, “Thankfully … this …” And with that he bent and kissed her.
Her lips parted for that kiss, his long-awaited, fantasized-about kiss. Kissing Ryker was a notion that had invaded her mind and had taken siege to the city. She threw herself into that kiss, surrendering her tongue to him with abandon. She didn’t think; she only felt.
She lost herself in that moment to him and his all-consuming kiss. He was delicious, and her body tingled with excitement. She forgot all other purposes as she allowed his kiss to turn into another. His hand moved from her waist to cup her breast, and her body burned for more touching, more of him, and she couldn’t feel the floor beneath her feet … and … she had to stop … she had to get away. She was on a mission, she reminded herself. She pushed at his rock-hard, oh so beautifully formed chest. “Sir—you must not …”
“No? Must I not?” he teased while nibbling at her ear.
She broke away and ran from him without a word. Without looking back she went flying into her room and locked the bedroom door. There she leaned back against it and reminded herself to breathe. She had so much yet to do … and all she wanted to do was to climb back into his arms …
Seven
A RAVEN-HAIRED SIREN stood in Ben Clay’s richly furnished office on the second floor of his three-story establishment known to the gamesters of Wight as the Silver Heart. He took a step backward, his hand cupping his chin, and eyed her critically. A dark black, natural hair wig covered her tawny locks. Thick clusters of Grecian black curls were arranged all about her head and fell down upon bare white shoulders. Patches were no longer a la mode, but she had chosen to affix one, heart-shaped, just above her curving cherry lips, and the effect was charming.
A black, pointed satin mask curved over her eyes, the slits permitting only their green glints to show through. She had attached this thoroughly with pins to her hair, should any frisky male try to remove it.
Her red gown was Old World and made of red satin, daringly low cut and provocative. The long train was beaded with jet, and a bracelet of the same stones attached the folds to Jewelene’s wrist. Her hands were ungloved. Jewelene’s French was fluent, and she would play the part well.
Ben watched her as she whirled around, and indeed she did not look herself but rather like some French beauty who had just stepped out from an unknown stage. She did not look respectable, but that wasn’t the part she was playing …
“Lord, girl—you will do!” He shook his head. “I hope you are prepared to hear the most outrageous proposals … for you will hear them. If anything, this will prepare you for your wedding night.” He laughed.