by Aliyah Burke
“Fine,” she said with a silky purr. “We really do not sleep anyway.”
No longer did a punch seem enough. Jo wanted to draw blood. Tell this whore to stay away from…From what? Her brain asked. A man who said kissing you is a mistake.
Regardless she had no wish to hear her brain’s comment, she recognized the painful truth. This was the type of woman he obviously preferred.
Jo looked at the older servant who held her bag. He looked as though any strong wind would knock him over. “Are you taking me to my room?”
“Yes, miss. When you are ready.”
As if she wanted to witness more of Arabella and Trystan. “Shall we?”
Thankfully, he headed off and she followed. The interior of the house was beautiful. Coldly so, however. Art, statues, and hangings, all of it added to the home, yet Jo could feel no warmth from any of it. She did not want to be here.
Considering the lack of emotion from the rest of the house, she found herself pleasantly surprised at the room she was given. It reminded her of her room at Kittle Manor. The walls covered in a soft blue, the large window allowed a vast view and would be lovely come morning when the sun broke through.
“Pardon me, miss, would you like me to put your things away, now or later?”
She turned to find a plump maid standing there. “No need.” She really had no desire to have someone go through her things.
“Is no problem, miss.”
With a reluctant sigh, she said, “Now is fine.” The young woman bobbed. “What is your name?”
“Tilly, miss.”
“Nice to meet you, Tilly.”
She took her pad and watched from the end of the bed as her few items were put away. Tilly never said a word about how little she had.
“Can I bring you anything, miss?”
“Tea would be lovely.”
“Right away, miss.”
A knock came shortly after Tilly left and she figured she had just come back. “Come.”
The person who entered was definitely not the maid. Trystan stepped through and she fought that damn instinctive reaction she had to merely being in his presence.
“What do you want?”
“Came to see how you were settling in.”
“It is another room that is not mine.”
“About Arabella,” he said.
She did not want to hear it. “How long are we staying?”
If he was taken aback by her change of topic, it never showed.
“No more than three nights. I need to send a post to London.”
Three nights here, with a woman who was obviously not pleased she was around. “Very well. Good night.”
“You need to eat.”
“Close the door on your way out.”
“Jo.”
She sighed, quickly losing her temper. Why did he insist on pushing this? Could he just not let her be alone?
“I am not feeling well, so will take some tea and lie down. Besides, I do not believe your…hostess would like me around.”
“Arabella—”
“Is your friend,” she talked over him. “Go spend time with her.” With that statement, she turned her back on him and did not move until the door clicked behind him. Somehow, it seemed so final. After her tea was delivered, she drank one cup and crawled into bed. For the first time since this thing began, she did not fight the threatening tears.
Tryst picked at his poached fish. He had no appetite. His mind remained on Jo. She had appeared defeated. Staring at the woman across from him, he debated on if it had been wise to even arrive here.
Arabella Snowmund, Duchess of Iverton, had been his sole outlet for sexual release since he had first laid eyes on Jo. She was everything Jo was not. Yet until today, he had never seen this side of her.
“Why so quiet, Trysty?”
He hated her pet name for him. “Why so rude to Jo?”
She blinked coquettishly at him. “Was I rude?” She blew out a sigh and pouted her rouged lips which were no draw to him compared to Jo’s. “You know I tend to not always remember to curb my tongue. I need a husband to set me back on that path.”
He knew this game. Far too well. “Be nice to her.” Her games were not anything he had time for.
“Anything for you, darling. Shall we retire?”
“I told you, Arabella, I am not sharing your bed with her here.”
Her mouth pinched and eyes narrowed with her displeasure. “Would you rather have her?”
Yes but that was beside the point. “You have no say over my activities.”
“So you are sleeping with her?”
He dabbed the corner of his mouth and frowned. “I told you she is my sister.”
“Never said anything about having a sister.” The tone expressed her doubt.
He sipped his whisky and watched her calmly despite his desire to leave her presence. “You never motioned your having a husband our first night, either.”
She did not even blush. There was no remorse on her face either. “Would it have mattered?”
“No. Merely pointing out we do not tell each other everything.”
“Point taken, Tryst. I will be nicer to her.”
He rose. “Good. I will see you tomorrow.” He walked away ignoring her sputtered complaints.
Upstairs, he paused outside Jo’s room before continuing to his own. The room Jo was in tonight would keep her safe. Unless they could go straight up a wall. He frowned briefly as he made his way to the desk in the room. No, she would be fine. Safe.
He penned to messages to send in the morning. Reclining back, he put his hands in his pockets and withdrew a small square of soft linen. Sapphire blue with a single silver word embraced on one corner. Jo. He had swiped it from her room after he kissed her.
Dear Lord, that kiss. The feel of her body against his had sent him mad with desire. She smelled divine. A blend of scents which reminded him of Africa after a rain. She melted against him with a full response to the kiss.
He pressed the cloth to his face and inhaled, her scent still lingered. Then I told her it was a mistake. The pain he had seen in her eyes had torn at his heart like a saber through flesh, slicing through and causing so much damage.
She had been quiet since. None of the fire he associated with his hellcat. She kept her nose buried in her book, drawing and making notes. He wanted to take it from her and see what had her attention so completely.
So weak. He was so weak. “Jo.” The word ripped from his gut on a guttural moan. He could not succumb to his desire for her. No matter how thick and powerful it was.
One final sniff before he shoved the cloth angrily back into his pocket. He paced for a while before he finally crawled into bed. The sound of a dog barking woke him. Sliding from the bed, he yawned and made his way to the window. Morning had arrived and it felt like he had just lowered his lids.
Jo was outside running and playing with Arabella’s dog, George. She wore another of her everyday dresses, obviously uncaring if it got dirty, for the dog and she ran and rolled. Her hair fell free down her back and shone in the sun. He stood by the glass and watched her just enjoy the day. This was the Jo he wanted to see, full of life and vigor.
Well aware Arabella did not arise until noon, he dressed and made his way outside. George growled and barked at him; the dog had never liked him. Trystan noticed how Jo composed herself, locking all emotion away.
“I see you found George.”
“Is that his name? I found him curled up outside my bedroom door.”
“He belongs to Arabella. He is a Dandie Dinnmont.”
She sniffed and for a moment, he thought she would say something. Nothing came. In fact, she presented him with her back and walked in the direction he had just come from. The house.
“Are you mad at me, Jo?”
“Would it matter if I were?” She never slowed and George with his long body kept between them.
“Yes.” That was the truth.
She paused
and faced him. “I can assure you, Lord Wilkes, I am not mad at you. I have no feelings one way or the other. Of any kind. As you so dearly love to point out this is about locating The Alchemist. So other than me expecting you to keep me safe as you claim you will, I do not feel anything toward you.” She continued on, leaving him there to watch the seductive sway of her derrière.
He hated hearing what she had just said. She could not have no feelings for him. She is upset because of Arabella. Yes, that made sense. Jo did not stay mad long so she would be better soon. Feeling confident, he went in for some breakfast.
Arabella, true to form, rose around noon. He had already sent his posts and was on his way out the door when she came downstairs. Poised and perfectly coifed she glided as if her feet never touched the ground. A slight smile touched her lips.
“Good morning, my love.”
“It is afternoon, Arabella.”
She waved off his comment and stepped in front of him. Her touch on his chest was familiar and at the same time unwanted. The smell of her perfume cloying and the opposite of the pureness and freshness surrounding Jo.
He groaned mentally. He really needed to stop thinking about her.
“Where is your sister?”
“I have not seen her since this morning. She was out with George.”
She waved a hand as if they were unimportant. “He always has been odd. Where are you off to?”
“I was going to check on my horse.”
“Do it later. We have not spent much time together.”
He knew her persistence and so nodded, tucking her hand into the crook of his arm. In silence, he suffered as she ate slowly. Had he really changed so much this flirtatious act Arabella put on became an annoyance as opposed to being tolerable?
The moment she was done, he made his excuse and left. A footman passed him and he stopped the young man.
“Have you seen Miss Wilkes?”
“In the library, my lord.”
“When did you see her there?”
“Just now, my lord. I delivered tea and sandwiches a moment ago.”
“Thank you.”
He strode off to find her. The door was shut and he pushed in. He had forgotten how big and nice this library was. Then, to be fair, other things had been on his mind when coming here. Jo sat in the window seat, surrounded by sunlight and books.
“Jo?”
“Is it time to leave?” she asked, her attention remaining on the items before her.
“No. What are you doing?”
“Reading.”
It was that quick. A single word and he had been dismissed. He shook his head, like he would leave that easy. So he moved closer. Staring at the items, he paused. Books on myth, lore, and legend, lay among floral and even a pamphlet on alchemy. There were also old newspaper clippings.
“And what exactly are you reading?”
She did not answer and he looked at her. Her gaze focused on a book of plants. Her fingers caressed the page lovingly. He turned it over and read the title, The World’s Fauna by H. Adrys. Her father. He could feel her pain at being separated from them.
“You will be home soon, Jo.”
“Do not promise such things.”
“Why not?” He slid a book over and sat near.
She shook her head and blew out a breath. “I am tired of being disappointed.”
“Who has disappointed you?”
“Stop it, Trystan. Just stop.”
He frowned at the sharpness in her tone. “What are you talking about?”
“I may be at your mercy right now while you search for this person for the singular fact I refuse to put my family in danger, but make no mistake that I am happy to be wasting time here because you wanted to spend time with your whore. So if you could just hurry up and get the itch resolved enough to focus on how we are to get me back home, I would be ever so grateful.”
The sharpness morphed into icy fury. It overflowed in her eyes and he was shocked at the words she had just uttered.
“I think we need to talk.”
“Oh, there you are, Trysty.”
He groaned at interruption. “What Arabella?” He watched Jo’s gaze as the rage segued into an indifferent and reserved stare. He realized then how she had managed to survive the viciousness of the ton without ever appearing affected by jabs and spitefulness.
“I want to go riding and I want you to accompany me.” She moved to his side. “Hello, Jo.”
Jo got to her feet and gave a curtsey. “Hello, Your Grace. Thank you for the use of your library.”
“My husband loved his books. I have no use for them so do with them what you will. Come Trysty.”
“Thank you, Your Grace.” Jo sat back on the cushion and turned back to the books.
“I have some things to attend to, Bella.”
Arabella glared at him. “I am beginning to think you are avoiding me, Trystan Wilkes.”
He swallowed his annoyance and pasted his tolerant smile on his face. “Tonight, I am all yours. I just have to take care of a few things first.”
Lust flared in her large eyes. “Until dinner then.” She walked to the door. “Oh, and Trysty, do reserve some energy for me.” Then she was gone, leaving him alone with Jo who was no longer watching her books but staring at him with more of that fury in her gaze.
Lord she was beautiful angry. He took a breath and held out a hand.
“I do not wish to hear it. I am here working hard to try and figure some of this out and you…well, it is obvious where you want to be. We leave tomorrow together, or I go on my own, Trysty.”
“Listen to me, Jo. I did not mean to make you feel uncomfortable here.”
“Well I do. I am uncomfortable and pissed. I want to go home, Trystan. Just because you are having fun with your…” he glared at her, “…friend does not mean I am. I had friends I had to leave behind and a family. I want to go back. So do what you have to do and then we leave. Together or separate. But one way or another, I will not stay here past tomorrow.”
Tryst knew she had been pushed to her limit. Blowing out a breath, he nodded. “Very well.”
Her expression portrayed her disbelief and he hated the disappointment he felt at the knowledge. She was not supposed to doubt him. Anger, he could handle, but the doubt, that created a foul feeling in his stomach.
Biting the inside of his cheek, he spun on his heel and left. He did have things to figure out. Despite what Jo may think he had a reason to stop here and it was not for sex with Arabella. He had things stored here. Weapons, medical supplies, money, and clothing. Anything he could possibly want or need.
He grabbed a vial from his things and put it in his pocket. Then he sat down and stared at a map. He stared at where he planned to go. He had to lose the carriage. Or disguise the one they had.
He had a lot left to do before they left. Successful at avoiding Arabella until dinner he sat through it with her idle chatter. They retired to her sitting room after and she sat on her sofa like an enticing goddess of times past. Everything in place and the tops of her creamy breasts on display.
“Sit here by me, Trysty.”
He rose from his seat and headed to the sideboard where her spirits sat. “Jo and I will be departing tomorrow.”
“I wondered if you two were lovers, but my staff said you two never attempted any stolen liaisons.”
The fact she had spied on him did not shock him. She had been increasingly possessive lately and talked oft about returning to London. Still, he faced her, decanter in hand and a bored expression in place.
“I told you there was nothing there.”
“She is not your sister. Ward maybe?”
That would work. “Yes. I am sorry about the deception, brother and sister is easier to explain.” He shrugged. “Leaves out the need to ask why she is in my hands.” Oh, if only he could get her in his hands. He took a deep breath and reined his raging lust under control.
“A very good question. Why is she?”
<
br /> A patient smile on his lips he turned back. “I knew her father when I was in the army.” With practiced ease, he added the contents of the vial to one of them. “A widower, he asked me to be in charge of her should anything untoward happen to him.”