Her Reluctant Viscount (Rakes and Rogues) (47 page)

Trystan stepped into her periphery. Not that she needed to see him, the voice gave him away. He wore all black, no ascot for him, and his hair had been drawn severely back. Pure fury etched the lines of his face and she took a step back.

“Good evening, Wilkes,” Callum said without any fear.

“I will not tell you again.”

Jo saw how everyone had begun to fall silent and watch the drama unfold. She tugged slightly on her hand, Callum smiled at her all the while ignoring her pull.

“You are interrupting us. Go away.” Callum barely blinked.

She felt the rumble of anger almost more than she heard it. Trystan lunged at Callum—who thankfully released her—and bore him to the floor. She stumbled back as the grown men fought on the floor.

It was not a pretty fight and around her, she could hear the men placing bets and encouraging one or the other. What shocked her was no one attempted to stop it.

She ran closer. “Stop it! Stop this at once!”

It did no good. She heard the sound of flesh hitting flesh and the occasional grunt from them. This was ridiculous and totally uncalled for.

“You are acting like schoolboys.” She lifted the hem of her dress and stepped back before they hit her. Finally, two footmen stepped in and dragged the men apart.

Both Trystan and Callum were bleeding from cuts on their face. They continued to glare at one another but they stopped trying to get at each other’s throats. Trystan wiped the back of his hand across him mouth, clearing off the blood, which trickled from his lip.

She struggled to keep her temper in check. An extremely difficult task. Day in and day out to be what people deemed proper but she had done it. To make her mother happy, to try and stop being such a topic in the gossip sheets about what she had done this time. However, right now, she teetered on the edge between caring to continue to be good and not giving a damn.

Trystan looked at her, his eyes burning with possessiveness, then to Callum. “You do not
ever
touch her.”

“She is not a dog, Wilkes. Nor yours. What we do is between the two of us.”

She gasped, heat flooding her face. Trystan said something that did not resonate with her. All she knew was she had had enough.

“Stop this both of you!” she snapped, drawing their attention. “This is neither the time nor place for such behavior.” Since she was looking at Callum, she took a step toward him.

“Touch him and I will do it again.” Trystan’s dictate floated past her on a dangerous silken thread.

Yes, her mind was made up; she conclusively did not give a damn.

Trystan wanted to sink his fist back into the smug bastard’s face again. He arrived late to this party and it was to find Jo waltzing around the room with none other than the smug gypsy half-breed, Callum Blackwood. Also his half-brother.

She took his breath away in her dress. He had wanted to beat every man in there for looking at her with lust in their gazes then take her away and strip her to where her silken skin would be against him.

“What did you say?”

He blinked and focused on Jo who stood between him and Callum, the footmen having since released them both.

“I said if you touch him I will do it again. Only this time I’ll make it worse.”

Well hell, he had done it now. After all those days and weeks of wondering if he would ever see the hellcat Jo had been before, he knew he did not have to any longer. She had returned and was in fine fury.

Her blue eyes burned with an eerie fire. She ripped off her gloves and smacked him in the chest with them. Then she took her finger and began jabbing him, inching him backward toward the refreshment tables.

“You.” Jab, jab. “Have no say,
none
, over whom I choose to dance with, Lord Wilkes.” More jabs.

The hell he did not. “Stop, Jo.”

“I did not give you leave to address me by that name.” He could go no farther. “Who do you think you are?” she demanded.

Beyond her he spied Callum standing there, holding a handkerchief to his mouth and he grinned. She looked over her shoulder and shoved Callum.

“This is not funny!” Jo turned her heat gaze back on him. “You do not beat on someone like this just because.”

“He did not listen.” Trystan edged around the table.

“You arrogant bastard.”

“Why, because I am protecting what is mine?” Now he was getting angry.

“I. Am. Not. Yours!” She reached out and picked up a plate of pastries and threw it at him.”

Dodging it, he held out his hands. She narrowed her gaze, reached for another, and threw it as well.

“Damn it, Jo. Stop this.”

“Why are you doing this to me?”

“I asked you to—”

“Right,” she sneered, lifting the ladle from the punchbowl. “Because it would be a ‘good match’ according to you. What you do not seem to realize, Trystan, is I heard you tell Najja it was a mistake, what you did with me. A
mistake
!” She launched the ladle at him as well, which he barely dodged, she had great aim.

Shite! He had forgotten all about that. It was a lie that had been when he was trying to convince himself he did not need her. He also did not know she had heard that exchange.

“I was wrong.”

“I loved you for years and you tell me it was a mistake.” More things came toward him. Some hitting, some not. “Now you think because
you
want it, I will just come running? It will not happen. I am leaving.”

That stopped him cold and he did not dodge the next thing she heaved at him. Leaving? She could not leave. Moreover, why was she mentioning love as in had loved?

“No.”

One brow rose. “No? You think to tell me no?” She shook her head. “You have this wrong, Trystan. I tell you no. No more messing with my heart. No more treating me like I am a fool. And no more taking me to your mistress’s house. Did you really think that would not hurt me? I got the message. There was never going to be an us. So leave me alone now.”

“I cannot do that.”

She reached for the bowl with the punch in it and he moved. Swept in close and held her tight to his chest. She struggled and he pinned her arms at her sides.

“Stop fighting me, Jo.”

She took several deep breaths and looked around. He knew the moment it sank in what she had just done. Her eyes widened and she looked mortified, her face flaring a red, the same shade as punch she had about tossed at him. Glancing over his shoulder, following where she stared, he found Jo’s mother standing there, watching with such shame and embarrassment on her face. The woman’s face fell and she shook her head in shame, Trystan felt Jo’s shudder at that simple act.

“You do this to me,” she muttered. “Make me forget how to behave.”

“I make you feel alive, Jo,” he replied in the same low tone.

He could see people trying to move closer and overhear. There was no doubt this would be in a gossip sheet tomorrow but he did not care.

“You not having an opinion and not commenting on things is not you. You are a vivacious and spirited woman. It is wrong for this society to try and dampen that.” He ran a knuckle along her cheekbone. “I missed my hellcat.”

She frowned at him. “Why?”

He blinked not sure, he understood what she asked.
You understand, you are trying to avoid it,
his brain informed him.

“I need you, Jo.”

“Why? And if you tell me we make a good match again, you will bleed more.”

“I need you.”

Disappointment filled her expression and she stepped back out of his reach. “You also need your job, your drink, and your mistresses.”

“No, Jo, that is not true.”

She blinked. “You once told me you never got tired of the lies and deception. For a man who claims that, why should I, how
could
I believe anything he says?” She backed up a few more steps. “You have never needed anyone, Trystan Wilkes. You are just like your mentor. Congratulations.”

When she turned and walked away, he felt his heart rip out of his chest. He stood there, in the ballroom, with pastry and punch on his suit as Jo, met by her parents, headed to the door, neither looking left nor right.

The rest of the night passed in a blur and he truly had no idea of how he got home. However when he woke with a horrendous pounding in his skull. It was still less than the feeling of emptiness in his heart. He had been sleeping for two days.

He cleaned up and made his way to Jo’s house. Of course she was out. He went back daily for a week. Annoyed they would not tell him when she would be back he refused to leave once, the butler very somberly informed him that Miss Adrys, and her family was no longer residing here. He had to try one more time and so he saddled Ptolemy and set out for Kittle Manor.

There he learned the family was at Falcon House. Swinging himself back up onto his mount, he pointed him in the direction and urged him on his way. As he rode, he ran over what he was going to say to her.

The day was warmer than it had been and he was glad it was not raining. Coming over a hill, he found what he wanted to see. Jo.

She walked beneath the trees and their changing leaves in a red dress. Her hair drawn back by some ribbons and hung down her back. Innocent. Arousing. And perfect.

Ptolemy picked up his pace as they headed toward her. She turned her head and the devastation on her face tore at him. He had dismounted even before he came to a halt and pulled her close, kissing her before she could say a word.

She tasted like he imagined heaven would. He never wanted to let it end. When he realized she was not responding, he did however.

“Listen to me, Jo.”

She stared at him.

“You were wrong. I do need someone. You. What I did not say then is that I want to marry you because I love you. Everything about you from your fire to your compassion for others.”

She shook her head.

“Yes. I have loved you for years. You captivated me from the moment I first saw you. I was scared, yes. Of my job and how it could put you in danger. I no longer work for the Crown.”

“Why?”

“Because being like Jack is the last thing in the world I want. I do not want to be bitter and alone.”

“I was a mistake.”

He cupped her face. “No, hellcat. The only mistake I made was not telling you how I felt sooner. You scared me with the feelings you created in me. But that is my issue, nothing you did.”

“I…I…”

He gave her a light kiss. “I have asked you to marry me numerous times now, Josephine Marguerite Adrys. Something I have never done to anyone before. You are a very reluctant bride. But I will keep asking until you say yes. We are a good match.” She stiffened. “No, do not be mad, we are. You keep me centered, Jo. Something I have needed for a very long time. I have needed
you
for a long time.”

Slight tremors could be felt through where they touched. He ran his hands up her arms.

“Are you cold?” He did not wait for an answer, just shrugged free of his tailcoat and draped it over her shoulders.

“I do not know what to think.”

“What does your heart tell you?”

Lord help him, he wanted her to marry him. She shifted and put her arms through his sleeves.

“Believe you.” She met his gaze directly. “I just do not know.”

He pulled her close again and rested his chin on the top of her head. “You still love me.”

“Arrogant.”

“Yes, but correct. Tell me I am wrong.”

“I cannot.”

“And I love you, Jo.”