Chapter 8

CHAPTER EIGHT

The silence in the carriage was deafening.

Outside, the gaslights illuminating London’s streets hummed as horses and carriages passed, street vendors still selling their wares as they called out to passersby.

But Ryker hadn’t spoken a word, and Chloe had so many questions. She gave him a side-eye glance since he’d settled on the forward-facing bench next to her. Another oddity.

“What do you want to ask, Chloe?” he finally said, his tone sharp and not at all conversational.

But she didn’t hesitate. This was her future too and that man they’d met had been as frightening as he was enlightening. She shivered, remembering his words. Ryker was a man of many secrets. “Why did he call you Keeper? What does that mean?”

“It’s a nickname some of my friends have given me.”

“That man didn’t act like a friend. What does it mean anyway?”

“Some say I don’t share very much. That I keep information about myself a secret.”

Now that rang with truth. “Oh. I see. Who was that man?” She had to press him. The stranger had called her a whore. But if he wasn’t a friend, why else would he know Ryker’s nickname? She wanted to believe her fiancé wasn’t engaged in suspicious behavior, but how could she know for sure? She touched her chest, feeling her heart gallop.

“Doesn’t matter,” Ryker snapped. “Never speak to him again, Chloe. Do you hear me? He’s not a man you should ever be near.”

“Are you worried?” There was a protectiveness to his words that had her pulse fluttering wildly.

“Of course I’m worried. He’s dangerous and you are about to be my wife.”

Those words melted her hesitation away. Of course, that kiss in the hall hadn’t hurt either. But him calling her wife… She leaned against his arm, then, her hands wrapping about his biceps. “You’ll keep me safe. I’m certain of it.”

He rumbled, a guttural sound that sent a thrill racing down her spine a moment before his lips crashed over hers again.

She gasped at the riot of sensation, but he swallowed the noise and her breath as he kissed her like a drowning man gasping for air. She did her best to give him all that he needed, kissing back as their lips ground together, their tongues tangling.

This was so much more than she’d ever dreamed possible as wave after wave of passion crashed over her, her body humming with a need she’d never imagined possible.

An ache had begun at the apex of her thighs. As if he sensed her discomfort, he pulled her into his lap. The moment her behind settled against his powerful thighs, she gasped into his mouth again.

He was just so… much.

But he wasn’t done. Leaning her weight back against one arm, he half laid her across his lap, his other hand running the length of her leg where his fingers circled one of her ankles. “So small,” he murmured against her lips before his hand began travelling back up her leg. But this time, his fingers were under her skirts and petticoats, skimming over her stockinged calf.

His touch tickled and tingled as he slowed the pace of their kiss, his palm tracing every angle and line of her leg until he reached the ribbon of her stocking. And then, all five of his fingers pushed up above her stocking and onto her bare thigh.

She gasped and then let out a low moan as he moved higher and higher, smoothing over her thigh until his thumb brushed over the curls at her center.

A wave of pleasure rolled over her at the light touch, her head falling back, her body opening to him as her legs parted.

He chuckled into her mouth. “So soft.”

And then he touched her again, this time with more pressure, more insistence, parting her sex and tracing the seam.

Sparks lit behind her eyes as he slid his hand up and down her sensitive flesh. “So wet,” he said against her lips before he kissed a trail over her cheek, his fingers continuing their rhythmic stroking, her hips matching the pace to seek more pleasure from the touch.

And then, without breaking the pace, one of his fingers slid into her channel, the heel of his hand coming to the sensitive nub of her pleasure.

She bucked into the touch, the sensation threatening to overwhelm her as she gripped at his shoulders.

She’d wanted companionship, attention. But this… she’d never imagined passion like this. Didn’t even know it was possible.

He slowed his touch, allowing some of the building tension to ease, but she realized, he was playing her body, completely in control of her. It was delicious and a bit frightening. “Please,” she begged, wanting him to give her more.

He sucked her earlobe into his mouth, a small chuckle filling her ear. “Patience, love. If we’re going to do this, I am going to enjoy it for as long as possible. You are as tight as you are wet, and by God, woman, you feel even better than I imagined.”

She whimpered, his words both filling her with satisfaction and more need. She was desperate for release and her fingers bit into his shoulders. “Ryker. Please.”

His answer was to nip at the sensitive flesh of her neck, his finger burrowing deeper inside of her as the heel of his hand pressed even harder right where she needed.

She felt the first tremor of her finish build and she chased his hand with her hips, gasping and whimpering as her body begged him to give her more.

He held off for a second more and then, he pumped his finger in and out of her, giving her body the exact friction it craved for her to finish.

She cried out, her orgasm exploding in a riot of pleasure, her entire body going stiff as a keening cry fell from her lips.

And then she went limp, draped across his lap.

“Ryker?” she asked, not sure what came next. Did she get up? Stay? Touch him? He didn’t remove his finger. Not for some time, his arms holding her in his lap. In the dark, he stared down at her, his gaze unreadable and distant, making her shiver all over again but for a very different reason.

He now had even more power over her, her body responding to his touch like nothing she’d ever dreamed of.

She was at the mercy of a predator.

* * *

Ryker sent Chloe to bed the moment they arrived home, cursing that he’d even considered the word home where she was concerned. This was his home. Not hers.

Why the fuck did it seem right that she lived under his roof, called the same place home that he did?

He couldn’t help himself, he brought his fingers to his nose, smelling her sweet scent that lingered on his skin. Damn, but she’d been all he ever dreamed.

Her country legs were divinely muscular while still feminine, her sheath so silky and tight.

And he didn’t even dare to think of the way her body had moved under him, the noises she’d made.

If he did… he might throw out every fucking rule he’d ever made for himself, for her, and march up to her room and take her right now.

She’d been liquid fire in his arms. Everything was better with her.

A simple kiss was more satisfying and a deep one even better. Fingering, better. Fucking… he already knew the answer.

He scrubbed at his scalp. He’d been with beautiful women and passionate women, but when had he ever been with one who was so stunningly both? A woman who pulled him to her like a beacon, who coaxed him to share intimate details of his life?

The very idea of touching her more…

This senseless desire had to end. He had a plan and he intended to see it through.

Trying to put Chloe out of his mind, he penned a quick note, addressing it to the Summoner. Summoning a footman to deliver the letter immediately to the club. Hopefully, the man would receive it tomorrow. His information on Adam was urgent.

With the task done, he poured himself a whisky, settling by the fire in his study. He stared into the flames, attempting to erase the memories of the evening. Instead, they haunted him. Maybe he could drink the memory of Chloe away. It was worth a shot.

Of course, he risked getting drunk enough to toss his inhibitions away…

A knock at the door interrupted his thoughts. “What?” he barked, wondering who the hell would be knocking at his study this time of night.

The butler entered, tugging at his vest. “There are two men here to see you.”

“Two men?” He stood, his glass thumping on the table. “Who are they?”

“They called themselves the Summoner and the Emperor.” His butler, who rarely showed emotion, furrowed his brow in worry.

But Ryker relaxed. This was the exact sort of distraction he needed. He’d keep his mind on the enemy. “See them in.”

It only occurred to him after the butler was gone that he didn’t have on a mask. Then again, if the Emperor knew where he lived, he knew who Ryker was, but the entire charade seemed to be unraveling rather quickly.

It only took a few moments for the men to enter, the Summoner filling Ryker’s study with his massive frame. Neither man wore a mask, Ryker seeing their faces for the first time. The Summoner had a large scar that cut through one eye while the Emperor, older than Ryker, was still a devastatingly handsome man and decidedly familiar. Ryker might be jealous. “That was quick.”

“We were about to visit when your note arrived.” Emperor pointed to the Summoner. “Max also attended the Whitehouse ball. He was aware of your brush with Adam.”

Ryker did not like being spied on. “You have got to be fucking kidding me.”

“Relax,” the Emperor took the other seat next to the fire. “It was for your protection.”

“Still.”

The Summoner stepped closer, his amber eyes penetrating Ryker. There were very few men he was afraid of but this one… he might be the exception. “Who…” The words came out excessively slow and deliberate. “Was…” And then another pause. “She?”

Ryker’s brows rose. The Summoner talked. “Max have a family name?”

“Why?”

“I’m not divulging personal information without knowing personal information.”

“Winter.” The Emperor raised his hand, waving the question away. “And I am the new Duke of Strongborn.”

Shit. He’d known the Emperor’s older brother. Attended some events with him at the palace. “I am sorry for your loss.”

The Emperor nodded. “Now you know why I plan to retire from the club. Duty and all that. But I’d like this business settled first. Tell us what you learned.”

“Who was she?” Max repeated, stringing the entire sentence together. Was the man slow? When it came to swinging his fists, he seemed intelligent enough.

“No one.”

“Someone,” the Emperor quickly answered. “The Summoner saw you return here with her. Who is she?”

He let out a frustrated rumble. Clearly, these men were keeping an eye on him. “Spying for my benefit, were you?”

“If you wouldn’t mind answering the question.”

“She is not your concern,” he said with his teeth bared, the protective need he felt toward Chloe always just under the surface.

“She’s now involved in all of this, so you ought to answer the question.” Strongborn leaned forward, his gaze piercing into Ryker’s.

He looked down at his desk, trying to control his irritation. But as he drew in a slow, steadying breath, the note on his desk caught his gaze. The seal with no crest. Odd… because in the corner of the folded paper he noticed a small but distinct cross. He blinked twice. How had he missed that?

He’d been distracted.

Not answering the Emperor’s question, letting the man wait, he pulled out his letter opener and broke the seal instead, unfolding the sheet.

His eyes skimmed over the excessively neat scroll, phrases jumping out at him. Sinners. Damnation. Hell. Retribution. And then…

Your time is coming. I’ve already planted the seeds which will be your downfall. Check your house, Judas has arrived.

Ryker read the words again, his hand clenching the sheet far harder than necessary.

“What is it?” the Emperor asked, reaching for the paper and taking it from Ryker. His eyes scanned down the page. “It’s from Adam.”

“How do you know?” he asked the question for more information, though he was certain the Emperor was correct.

Emperor tossed the sheet back on the desk. “Who is new in your house?”

Ryker sat heavily in the chair taking a large swallow of his brandy. He couldn’t avoid the question any longer because every line of questioning was coming back to one person. “Only Chloe.”

“Chloe?” Winter asked.

He raked his fingers through his hair. “Chloe is my charge and the woman I was with tonight.”

Max looked over at Strongborn. “Beautiful.”

Strongborn looked at Ryker. “You are surrounded by beautiful women of late. First the masquerade and now a new charge.”

If only the other man knew… Ryker only glared, not wanting to give away any more information about Chloe.

So the Emperor looked at the Summoner instead. “How beautiful?”

It was Ryker who answered. “None of your business.”

Strongborn cocked his head. “Is it possible that she is mixed up with Adam?”

“No.” But insidious doubt made him take another large swallow of his drink. What did he know about Chloe? A distant relative who suddenly landed at Mildred’s door who enticed him into a kiss and to whom he was now engaged. She’d slipped past every defense he had with ease.

The Emperor stared at him with an assessing gaze.

“He kissed her,” the Summoner said slowly.

“Perhaps you’re not interested in taking over my role after all.” The Emperor cocked a brow.

Fuck that. The club was his passion, his escape. And after all he’d just learned, Chloe was suspect at best. “I am committed to taking your place when you leave.”

“Is that right, Helmsworth? Good.” He rose then, crossing to the buffet and helping himself to Ryker’s whisky. “There is another event the night after tomorrow. The Rightly ball. We’ll have our next challenge to fulfill, but it’s also hosted by a friend of Whitehouse’s so the chance of meeting Adam is high. Why don’t you tell me what you’ve learned?”

Quickly he explained what Adam had so casually shared and what he’d threatened. While he talked, Max also helped himself to the whisky, his grimace easy enough to read. No one was pleased with the information.

As Ryker finished, Strongborn finished his drink in a single swallow. “Should I cancel tomorrow night’s meeting?”

“And hide like cowards?” Ryker demanded. “No.”

“I agree,” the Summoner nodded, finishing his drink as well.

The man’s words came easier every time he spoke. Ryker didn’t ask, but his curiosity was piqued.

“Good.” Strongborn set down his glass. “Our identities remain private to everyone else who is not in this room,” he said. “And the Master’s challenge is to bed a widow. While I expect you at the meeting tomorrow, I’ll ask you now to partner with me to complete the challenge. The night after, at the ball, we’ll fulfill both objectives. Secure the widow and further the investigation.”

Bed a widow… A noise just outside the door caught his attention, a slight rustling. He crossed the room, opening the door to find the hall clear.

“Everything all right?” Strongborn asked.

“Fine.” He closed the door again, swearing to himself that someone had been outside the door. Was he just paranoid? Did he have a spy? Was it Chloe?

He shook his head. The idea of a challenge so salacious should excite him. He’d never been faithful to a woman. But Chloe danced through his thoughts. The woman he wished to bed was her. But that was ridiculous. He was the one who was adamant about remaining in the club and her actions were now suspect.

The other two men headed for the door then, bidding him goodnight. Ryker considered pouring another drink but opted to stare into the fire instead. He’d erred somewhere critical, and he needed to figure out where and correct the mistake.

He wanted to say that sliding his finger into Chloe was the error, but that had felt more right than anything he’d done for a long, long time.