Chapter 6

CHAPTER SIX

Chloe softly closed the door of Mildred’s room, nipping at her lip.

Mildred wasn’t feeling well. Just the sniffles the doctor had said but, at her advancing age, he’d recommended a week of rest and recovery.

Chloe pressed her hands down her skirts, as though she might soothe her rising nerves. Mildred was getting on in age, and though Chloe had only known the other woman for just a year, she’d come to depend on her. What would she do if Mildred weren’t here?

She wished she could confide in Mildred, tell her about Ryker’s cynical but practical proposal. She could use the woman’s advice. Mildred understood the duke so much better than Chloe did.

She frowned down the hall toward the room she knew belonged to Ryker. It didn’t seem that the man she’d agreed to marry would be a companion or caregiver, at least any other way than financially.

Important, sure. But the very idea of being completely alone for the rest of her life made her shiver with dread.

She gazed down the hall at the closed door of her fiancé. She hated their arrangement. She was a woman meant to be placed firmly at the side of a strong man. She knew that about herself.

Her father had always supported Chloe. Now that he was gone, she’d need to find another man who could truly care for her.

Which meant one of two things: either she cried off their arrangement or she attempted to convince her husband to have a more traditional marriage. She had a fortnight to determine which was the more prudent course.

But that meant spending time together.

Drawing in a deep breath, she made her way down the hall. She paused in front of his door, lifting her hand to knock and then dropped it again.

She didn’t normally force a situation like this. Instead, she’d watch and read, understand the other person, but the clock was ticking.

Straightening her spine, she lifted her hand and knocked on the door.

“Enter,” a deep voice rumbled, one she instantly recognized as Ryker’s.

She reached for the knob, pausing for only a moment, before she finally pushed the heavy mahogany door open and then she stepped into the room.

“Good, you’re here,” Ryker called from an adjoining room that Chloe assumed was the dressing room. “I need your aid after all. You know how I am with cuffs and cravats.”

Chloe didn’t answer as she moved deeper into the large room, the giant four post bed in the center causing her stomach to flutter.

It was a masculine room with dark burgundy curtains about the bed and on the windows with deep rich wood furniture and paneling on the walls.

But her gaze soon fixed on the man she’d agreed to marry when he stepped from the dressing room.

He had on breeches, skintight, and his boots. But his shirt was undone, showing the rippling muscles of his chest, and his cuffs were loose.

“Chloe,” he growled out with a frown. “What are you doing here?”

She stopped, taking him in from his tousled damp hair, down the strong cords of his neck, over his broad shoulders, to his large, masculine hands.

Dear lord, but he was the sort of man that could make a woman forget her principles. “I wanted to speak with you about Mildred.”

“The housekeeper has already informed me of her ailment. She’s ill enough to stay in bed but nothing to be concerned about.”

She cleared her throat, realizing her thin excuse for coming had been dismissed in an instant. “Yes. That’s right.”

“No need to keep me apprised of Mildred, I have long been keeping tabs on my aunt.” He began to work a cufflink through his cuff, not looking at her at all.

Still. It was good to know that he cared for someone. “Is that how it will be for us as well? The housekeeper will tell you how I fare?”

He stopped, his gaze lifting to hers, his jaw flexing. “You’re not pleased with our arrangement.”

It wasn’t a question, and it didn’t bear answering. Instead, she stepped over to him, reaching out to aid him with his cufflink.

He straightened, a muscle in his jaw ticcing as his gaze narrowed. “What are you doing?”

“Helping.” And then she reached for the small metal clasp, feeding it through the equally small holes and opening it to secure the fabric. Silently, he extended the other cuff and dropped the metal cufflink into her hand.

Chloe fingered the jewel-encrusted piece for a moment before she placed it on his wrist. Her fingertips brushed his skin, the warm, course feel of him making her breath catch in her throat. But he either didn’t notice or care as he turned away, tugging the fabric of his sleeves and shrugging on his vest before he reached for his neck cloth. Chloe didn’t hesitate.

She’d tied her father’s often and moving in front of Ryker again, she reached up to his neck. “Let me.”

“Chloe,” his voice held a warning that she did her best to ignore. “I thought I was clear.”

She began to knot the fabric, her small fingers making quick work of the piece. “You were.”

“I said no touching.”

“I assumed you meant touching of the intimate variety, like the kiss we shared or…” Her lips parted as she finished the elaborate knot, smoothing the fabric into place. “Passionate embraces.”

“Passionate embraces?”

She nodded. “When we begin being seen publicly, we’ll have to have some level of intimacy.”

“Publicly?”

A tendril of apprehension snaked down her spine. “Didn’t you say that you’d announce our match eventually?”

He looked away then, assessing the knot in the mirror. “I suppose I did.”

Did he never plan to tell anyone other than the king and Mildred that he’d wed? He didn’t really expect his aunt to remain silent, did he? Or was his plan to stuff them both in the country? This did not bode well.

She drew in a shaky breath. Would he keep his promises? Any of them? She thought of her request to see a bit of London. “Do we have any events coming up?”

“Events?’

Now she was certain he wouldn’t. Drat. The man was distracting as sin, but he could not be trusted. A characteristic of note. “You promised to take me to lesser events to see London.”

“So I did.” He turned to look at her then, his gaze sliding up and down her as though he was seeing her for the first time, which was ridiculous. “We’re going out tonight.”

“Tonight? Where?”

“The Whitehouse ball.” He shrugged on his jacket, pulling at the lapels, as he straightened the coat.

She looked down at her simple frock of cotton. “What time?”

“As soon as you’re ready.” He fingered the knot she’d tied, a frown pulling at his lips. “I’ll be waiting in the entry.”

Just when she thought there was no hope.… The man had to go and give her what she’d asked for in the most annoying way possible. Chloe hurried off to dress, sure Ryker had won yet another round of their sparring and she had landed on her back foot yet again.

* * *

Ryker tapped his toe as he waited for Chloe to arrive. He hadn’t given her much time, he knew that, but he wasn’t the most patient man.

He’d only been waiting a half hour, and he’d helped himself to a tall drink of scotch in that time. He’d like another but he needed his wits tonight. Both with the investigation he was supposed to conduct and in dealing with his soon-to-be wife. He was far more affected by her than he ought to be.

Just the memory of her hands on his skin… her gentle touch as she affixed his cufflinks in his sleeves and tied his cravat, had his cock stiffening with need. Damn it all to bloody hell.

Asking her to come tonight, had been a last-moment decision. He’d made a promise to her, and he’d needed to find a way to keep it. This event was an ideal choice. First, he knew very few people from his circle would attend the Whitehouse event. But second, Chloe was just the sort of distraction he’d need.

He shifted again, contemplating going back to the study for another drink after all, when Chloe appeared at the top of the stairs.

Dark blue velvet hugged her torso, her hair tied back in a simple chignon that accented the delicate planes of her face.

She looked stunning. All achieved in under an hour. If a man were in want of a wife, he suspected it would be difficult to do better than Chloe.

Some competitive part of him puffed with pride to know she’d be his in name.

Perhaps she was right. After a year of running the club, he’d retire too. Announce to the world that he was off the market, quiet the debutantes who regularly set their cap on him.

They’d still have to live apart. She was far too tempting to be under his roof. But some part of him actually wanted to tell the world that she belonged to him.

He thought back to the Master’s comments yesterday, the man’s obvious interest in Chloe. He didn’t care who the Master was in the real world, he’d knock the man’s teeth out if he tried to make a move on the woman that Ryker had claimed for himself.

Well, secretly claimed.

A niggle of a problem started in the back of his thoughts. If he never publicly announced their marriage, no man would know she wasn’t available.

And then there was the issue of her fulfillment… publicly, privately.... His jaw clenched. He’d offered her a life where her financial needs were met but not much else.

Chloe came down the stairs in her large skirt, lifting the hem to expose her trim ankles. His body responded with the most inconvenient tightening. Who the hell became turned on by ankles?

Her clause to take her out was going to be the death of him. Having her on his arm without publicly claiming her would be a sweet torture.

Had she done it on purpose? He paused at the thought. He didn’t know Chloe at all, really. What if his assumption that she’d be easily subdued was just wrong?

He reached out a hand, her gloved fingers sliding into his. “You look ravishing.”

She smiled with a nod. “As do you, but I knew that already.”

“Thank you again.” He smoothed his cravat. She tied a better knot than his manservant, which was impressive. “Where did you learn the art?”

“My father,” she answered her smile slipping. “It was a ritual of ours right up until the end.”

Ryker had also lost his father, but it had not been more than a passing sadness of a relationship that had never been. “You were close?”

“Very,” she whispered, her fingers slipping from his again. “My mother passed when I was a newborn and so we only had each other.”

His chest ached a bit at her obvious pain as he wondered which was worse. A dead mother or a mother who obviously found her child a nuisance at best and a reminder of her absent husband at worst. “My mother didn’t die when I was young. She just didn’t like me.”

Chloe paused, her head cocking to the side. “That can’t be true.”

“It is.” He held out his elbow, surprised that he actually felt a pang at the words. He’d not lamented his mother’s disdain for him for a very long time. He supposed he blamed his father. “In her defense, my father barely had time for her either. Perhaps, if the duke had loved her, she would have had some affection for her son.” Why was he sharing all this? He never talked about his past.

But Chloe’s honest admission, the quiet way in which she stated her past without complaint, had stirred something in him.

Chloe slipped her hand into his arm, her clear blue eyes searching his. “I don’t care what your father did or didn’t do. A mother should love her child.”

He looked down at her, his jaw locking tight. “You really think so?”

“I do.”

“If you were to have a child, you’d love that child no matter how much of a beast you were married to?” It was a lovely thought. A woman who’d give her child all her love no matter the circumstances.

“Are you calling yourself a beast?” she asked, her head cocking as she assessed him with a small smile.

Right. “I already told you. I don’t plan on having children.”

“Too bad. I was looking forward to being a mother, myself. I think I’d be a good one.”

He had no doubt she would be excellent. It was a shame… but he couldn’t trust himself to be a father. And now that he’d committed to this plan, he wasn’t certain he could let Chloe go.

Leading her out to the carriage, a footman opened the door, and Ryker helped her in the vehicle.

As he watched her settle in her seat, he was reminded of why this concession of escorting her about London was a terrible idea. How could he trust himself with Chloe? This woman was made to weaken him until he broke every rule he’d carefully set in place.