Under the Boardwalk: A Dazzling Collection of All New Summertime Love Stories (27 page)

It was more like a tremor of unadulterated lust.

"I am perfectly capable of walking on my own," she said, her heart pounding in her ears. "Furthermore, I am engaged to marry another man."

He leaned dowen even lower and stared her in the eye. His scowl let her know in no uncertain terms what he thought of that statement. Sydney couldn't help thinking how stunning a specimen of maleness he was, even though she was scared to death of what he was going to do. And of what she would let him.

"If you belonged to another man, you wouldn't have been shipwrecked on my cove," he said coldly.

She raised her chin. "My fiance can hardly control the weather."

"He obviously can't control you either," he said, "or you wouldn't be sprawled on my sofa with my knee lodged between your sweet thighs." He cupped her breast in his palm, staring at her with a knowing smile. "You're mine now anyway, and I'm not about to let you take such dangerous risks with your life."

There was a rattling sound of a tea cart outside the door.

Sydney gasped, pulling her jacket back on. "Good Lord, if my friends see me, they'll die."

"Friends?" He grunted, allowing her to wriggle to her feet. "What manner of friends would abandon a helpless woman to the mercy of a man with my reputation?"

"Abandon?" Sydney said. "What are you talking about?"

He frowned. "You really don't remember?"

She shook her head. She did recall snatches of a disjointed conversation with Audrey, and that wicked business with Rylan on the bed, but nothing more. The laudanum had obviously addled her senses.

Mrs. Chynoweth knocked at the door. "Tea, my lord."

Rylan regarded Sydney with a ruthless smile. It was time to tell her the truth so that she would understand what he'd saved her from. "Sit down, Sydney. We're going to talk."

Sydney frowned at the teapot. If she understood DeWilde correctly, she didn't need something as weak as tea to drink. She needed a full bottle of his most potent port.

"Are you saying my friends abandoned me?" she demanded.

"Like rats on a sinking ship," Rylan said, holding back a grin. Hell, was it his fault if things were going his way? He hadn't pushed the stupid blockheads out of that window. "They knew I'd fought a duel with Peter's cousin. They figured it would be disloyal of them to stay in my house."

"Well, now I'm unchaperoned," Sydney said, "and I just woke up in the bed of the man who tried to kill my betrothed's cousin. Could it get any worse?"

"I didn't try to kill him," Rylan corrected her. "If I'd tried to kill the worm, he'd be dead. I tried to wound him."

Sydney gave him a sour look. "Does Peter know about the duel?"

"Hell—pardon me for swearing—Peter was the worm's second in the duel. I'll say he knows."

"This is dreadful," Sydney said.

"Isn't it?" Rylan tried to make a sympathetic face, which didn't quite counteract the delighted gleam in his eye. "But what can one do?"

"It's your fault," Sydney added, glowering at him.

"My fault? It's my fault that you were shipwrecked and I, out of the goodness of my heart, gave you shelter in my house?"

"No." She was getting upset, and it didn't help that she hadn't recovered from their sensual tussle on the sofa. "But it is your fault you wounded the worm—oh, good grief—Peter's cousin, I mean."

"That wasn't my fault, either." Rylan's voice had grown brittle. "Edgar practically begged me to fight him. In public, I might add. I couldn't very well walk away from that, could I? This isn't the first duel that Peter and his cousin have fought, by the way."

Sydney stared down at the carpet. Her father had warned her that Peter had a dark side, that he liked to drink too much and lost his temper too easily, that he had a reputation as a ladies' man. But Sydney had been so swept up in all his power and attraction that she'd ignored her own instincts—the same instincts that were drawing her to DeWilde.

A coal shifted in the grate. She glanced up and caught Rylan staring at her intently.

"What were you dueling over?" she asked quietly.

He hesitated.

"Was it a woman?" she said, clasping her hands.

"Yes."

Sydney's eyes widened. "All three of you were fighting over the same woman?"

Rylan chuckled. "Well, I wasn't personally involved with her myself. I'd never met her until that night."

"You risked your life for a stranger's honor?" Sydney said dryly.

"There's more to it than that," he said. "At first I believed she was carrying my brother Valentine's love child. Valentine was out of the country at the time." He paused. "As it turns out, the child could also belong to Edgar or even Peter. All three men apparently slept with her in the same month. Valentine, however, is paying the support."

Sydney went deathly still.

Rylan realized he had revealed a secret that had upset her, but he would rather hurt her now than have her ruin her life being married to a man who was more shallow and self-serving than someone like her could imagine. Sydney didn't understand what lay ahead of her. She had no idea how unhappy she'd be as the wife of a man who cared only for his own pleasure.

"I believe Peter must have conducted this affair before we were engaged," she said in a stilted voice.

Rylan snorted at her naive faith. There had been numerous other affairs and, according to Audrey, Peter showed no signs of allowing matrimony to shackle his uncontrollable sex drive.

He looked directly at her. His chiseled face was devoid of any gentleness. "I chase after demons and I write about man's darkest vices and quest for cosmic power. I write about men who make pacts with Satan. It's true that I have a certain reputation, but at least I'm not a hypocrite and I haven't hurt anybody on purpose. I can't say that for your fiance."

Sydney smiled without humor. "That's preposterous. He's a duke, for heaven's sake, and he hasn't hurt me."

Rylan wanted to shake some sense into her. "Not yet he hasn't," he said, his voice rising. "I saw Peter in a private club when I was researching
The Elixir of Death
. He had a half-naked woman on his lap, and he took her home in his carriage."

"How do you know he took her home? And how do you know it was him?"

"It was him!" he shouted.

Sydney was frightened by his intensity. "You don't even know Peter!" she shouted back.

"I know all of Esterfield I can stomach," he said in contempt. "He's a cad and a womanizer. The man is sowing his wild oats all over London, and shows no sign of stopping, not even for you, Sydney."

"Are Audrey and Lord Westland devil worshippers too?" she said sarcastically. "Is Freddie really a werewolf in a fat man's body?"

He crossed his arms over his broad chest, unmoved by her response. There was no understanding in his heart where another man was concerned. "I've shocked you and now I've hurt you. It was necessary, Sydney." His beautiful mouth lifted in a beguiling smile. "But I am perfectly willing to make your hurt go away."

Sydney scooted to the other end of the sofa. "What about my friends? Don't you want to warn me away from them too?"

"As far as I know, stupidity and selfishness are the worst crimes they've committed," Rylan replied.

She stood decisively. "Thank you so terribly much for all you've done, but I don't think we have anything else to discuss, so if it's all the same to you, I'll be on my way now. Would you be kind enough to make travel arrangements for me into the village?"

"Well," he said, rubbing his chin to control his annoyance. "I'd offer you a horse and carriage, but your friends stole my horses when they ran off last night."

Sydney put her hands on her hips. "How far
is
the village?"

"Ten miles or so across the moor. A little longer if you take the moorland path to enjoy the scenery. The church is on the cliff, but the bell ringer is a bit mad."

She narrowed her eyes. "Are you telling me there's no way for me to leave this house?"

He didn't look at all upset by her predicament. In fact, Sydney thought he was taking her social ruination in stride.

He lifted his large shoulders in a shrug. "If you insist, I can drive you in the coal cart to the village. Of course, the journey across the moor, taking in the ponies' temperament, will probably take two days. And two nights. Three if it storms."

"Two nights?" Sydney said in horror.

He shook his head. "Spent alone together. Isn't it terrible?"

"You're saying we'd have to sleep on the moor?"

"We might find a cave to share."

There was a pause.

"Wicked DeWilde," Sydney said through her teeth. "I remember now. That's what Audrey called you."

"I won't lie to you," Rylan said. "I have been called that in the past."

"I don't wonder why."

"I led a reckless youth," he said. "I did not develop a conscience until after I reached my majority."

"Some men never do," Sydney said.

"Oh, Sydney." His mouth curled in the sexy smile that sent fire down her spine. "I don't know how someone so adorably naive ended up engaged to a snake like Esterfield, but isn't it a good thing I saved you?"

Mrs. Chynoweth came in with a fresh plate of scones, bustling between them to make room on the tea table.

She gave them both a friendly smile as if she were totally oblivious to the chill in the air. Sydney lowered her voice.

"Are you insulting me, Lord DeWilde?"

He reached for a scone. "Actually, I was complimenting you. You don't have the qualities to hold a snake like Peter for long. He would grow bored with your sweetness and lack of sophistication."

"That was definitely an insult," Sydney said. "You're a smug, opinionated man."

"Now
that
was an insult," he said, pointing his scone at her with an accusing grin.

Sydney backed away from the sofa. "You've been kind to shelter me, but under the circumstances, I can't stay in your house any longer."

Rylan and Mrs. Chynoweth exchanged alarmed looks. They both wanted Sydney to stay. "Where will you go, miss?" the housekeeper asked in concern.

"She can't go anywhere far on that leg," Rylan said confidently as Sydney limped to the door. "And she can't go anywhere because there's nowhere else to go."

Sydney was upset. She threw all her belongings into her valise and hobbled down the stairs. She wasn't as furious with Lord DeWilde as she was with her so-called friends for abandoning her to the overbearing man. They should have stayed to protect her, or at least to offer their support.

The housekeeper and her husband met her at the bottom of the stairs. Sydney braced herself against their well-meaning concern.

"Where are you going, miss?" Mrs. Chynoweth asked in dismay.

Sydney caught a glimpse of Rylan in the drawing room, standing by the fire. He looked straight at her with a knowing smile that sent every thought from her head. Then he blew her a kiss. She glared back. She would show him she was immune to his charm.

How could the man suggest she place herself at his mercy when her reputation was at stake?

A scoundrel like DeWilde probably didn't give a farthing for what the world thought. Why, hadn't all three brothers been denounced by the clergy for their Faustian ventures into a realm that was morally forbidden to man? The DeWildes had always done as they pleased.

"I would like to hire your husband to drive me into the village," she announced loudly.

"He can't do it, miss," the housekeeper said.

"How much?" her husband asked.

Mrs. Chynoweth gave him a discrete little kick in the ankle. "It will take you two days to walk to the village of St. Kilmerryn."

"Three days. Possibly four," Rylan called from the drawing room. "She'll get lost on a bog track or meet up with a local ghost. I predict disaster."

Sydney raised her chin. She would show them all what a Windsor could do when forced to the wall. "I shall find my way."

Rylan dropped onto the sofa, lacing his hands behind his neck. He grinned as he heard the door slam. His Sleeping Beauty wasn't going anywhere. There wasn't anywhere to go. It should take her at most an hour to realize that. He'd welcome her back into his bed with open arms. He'd bring her tea and sympathy, and he wouldn't say "I told you so" when she realized he'd been right all along. He might even take a nap while he waited so he'd be refreshed for their reunion.

A frown banished his complacent grin. Of course, Sydney didn't know there wasn't anywhere to go. He couldn't bear to think of her getting hurt, hobbling around on her knee. She needed him to take care of her. Sooner or later Esterfield would show up, demanding his bride-to-be. It undid Rylan to think of that snake destroying her innocence. Rylan had spent enough of his life studying human nature to predict that Peter would seek pleasure outside the marriage bed.

Rylan would guard her heart and worship her body. However, it seemed he might have to do something about taming her independent streak first, or he'd never get the chance.

He jumped up from the sofa, Frankenstein at his heels. The two of them would just have to follow Sydney until the stubborn darling realized she had only one place to go.

Back to him, where she belonged.