Captured & Seduced (21 page)

“This is a dance,” Ry said sternly from the doorway of the hotel room they’d rented. “There won’t be any need to fight.”

Camryn scowled on hearing his voice, her mouth dropping into a distinct gape on seeing him. Dressed in black, he wore a fitted jacket with breeches and stockings. The only relief was the sparkling silver design on his waistcoat. When Camryn scrutinized the pattern, she recognized the spirals and whorls as those of his tattoo. On his feet, he wore highly polished shoes with shiny buckles. He grasped an ornate walking stick with a silver cat head in his right hand while a black ribbon tied back his dark hair in a queue.

“Huh! Tell that to my gut,” Jannike said. “It’s bouncing fast enough to spin thread.”

“Because you haven’t attended a dance before,” Mogens said. “You’ll enjoy it. I’ve shown you how to dance and know you will acquit yourselves with decorum.”

Kaya shrieked with laughter. “Mogens, you sound like my stepfather.”

“Fine,” Jannike said, reaching behind her back to unfasten her gown. She scowled at Mogens. “You go in my place if you think it will be so much fun. I’d like to see you decked out in this cage thing. I can’t breathe!”

Mogens drew himself up tall. “I do not wish to attend the ball. It is your destiny, not mine.”

“What! Don’t tell me,” Jannike said, holding her right hand to her forehead. “You read the clouds and they said my attendance is necessary.”

“Quite so,” Mogens replied, unruffled by Jannike’s sarcasm.

“Think of it as an assignment,” Ry suggested. “I need you to circulate. Dance with as many of the other contestants as possible. Smile. Bat your eyes and ask questions. Do not leave the ballroom, and don’t eat or drink anything unless it comes from a plate or bottle everyone else eats or drinks from.”

He handed them gloves to match their dresses and waited for them to draw them on before nodding with satisfaction. “Perfect. We need to collect information tonight. Information is knowledge.”

“This ball is a wicked waste of currency,” Jannike grumbled, tugging at the bodice of her green dress.

“Perhaps,” Ry said, “but necessary. I want to know what my brother is up to.”

The time marker tolled eight.

“It is time,” Mogens said.

“Are you all set for your mission?” Ry asked.

“I am,” Mogens said. “I have arranged a job in the cloak room.”

“Camryn, a word? We’ll be with you in a few mins,” he added to Mogens.

The seer’s color flickered, edging toward black as he ushered Jannike and Kaya from the hotel room.

“My brother will be in attendance tonight. Don’t let him get you alone.” Ry brushed his thumb across her bottom lip. Her mind told her to step away. Her body disobeyed. She shivered under his delicate touch. “Talor hates me.” His expression hinted at pain, but all he said was, “You know what he’s capable of.”

“Your brother gives me the creeps. I hated the way he made me feel at the races, the urge to do what he wanted even though I didn’t want to obey. Believe me—I intend to stay away.”

Ry nodded with satisfaction. “Good.” He dipped his head to steal a kiss, caressing hers lips and demanding her response. Camryn fought the desire that burst to life inside, fought to hold on to her anger, fought to remain impassive. She called up Gabriel’s image, and again the memory blurred, overlaid with Ry’s vitality. He refused to let her hold back or hide. His lips dominated while he gently cradled her head. With his tongue, he traced her bottom lip. Her heart thundered and a mew of need escaped, her nipples tender against the stiff bodice of her gown. She inhaled through her nose as much as her corset would allow and quickly wished she hadn’t attempted to breathe. His scent, so seductive and full of memories, hurled temptation her way.

“Mine,” he whispered before he opened the door and stood back to let her exit the hotel room.

Camryn forced her feet to move, sweeping past him like an imperious duchess. She was not his, would never be his no matter what he said. Soon she’d return to New Zealand and life would revert to normal. She’d return to her job and live a quiet life, avoiding alcohol and yellow pills, content in the knowledge she’d known love with Gabriel. Another man wasn’t necessary. As long as she kept busy, she wouldn’t fall back into the abyss of despair she’d inhabited before her kidnapping. Her time spent with the aliens had taught her that at least.

They caught up with Mogens and Camryn walked beside the seer, her agitation lessening with movement. Ry had no right to treat her like a possession. A frown formed. No touching, since that’s where she seemed to go wrong, since she lost every vestige of willpower with skin contact.

When they reached the foyer of the hotel, they found it full of men and women waiting to enter the ballroom. Crystal chandeliers sparkled overhead, sending shards of fragmented light from the candles across the room and its occupants.

The gowns of the women attracted Camryn’s attention. Many were daring and some edged close to scandalous. The women reminded her of colorful butterflies while the men dressed similarly to Ry in black or white or a combination of the two.

“Where do these women hide during the day?” Jannike asked.

Camryn wondered the same thing. They seldom saw women out on the streets unless they were convicts. What
did
they do with themselves?

The line of people waiting to enter the ballroom moved at a steady pace, and soon Ry handed his invitation to the majordomo.

“Mr. Ryman Coppersmith and companions,” the man intoned.

Ry strode into the ballroom as if he owned it, ignoring stares and whispered conversations taking place behind gloved hands. Taking her cue from Ry, Camryn sashayed inside with head held high. Kaya and Jannike followed their example. A footman handed the three women a dance card each.

The ballroom stole her breath and heightened the perception of walking into a Jane Austen novel. Although she’d been a tomboy in her youth, she’d still read the classics and the odd romance while recuperating from a fall from her pony. A sad crush, they’d have termed this ball. Although early, dancers crammed onto the dance floor dipping and whirling to the music of a string band.

Five huge chandeliers, filled with glowing candles, lit the room. Plants and strategically potted palms offered both decoration and privacy. The ballroom opened out onto a balcony for those who wanted to take the air. The combination of perfumes, tallow candles and unwashed bodies made her nose twitch and her eyes water.

“I see a free table over by the balcony,” Ry said, nodding at a plump matron who gaped at him in consternation.

Camryn noticed other men and women with the same reaction. She nudged Kaya and they shared a grin.

The string band launched into a new set of dances and the couples on the floor commenced the series of intricate moves Mogens had taught them.

“I say, I know this is forward of me since we haven’t been introduced, but may I sign your dance card?”

Camryn turned to face the man with the suave voice, and mindful of Ry’s instructions to mingle, she beamed at him. “My name is Camryn O’Sullivan.” She offered the man her gloved hand. He raised it to his lips and brushed his mouth across her knuckles. “I would be honored to dance with you.” Camryn handed over her dance card and realized things were less formal here than they would’ve been on Earth during the early nineteenth century.

Encouraged by her friendliness, other men arrived and took possession of her dance card, scrawling their names against dances. Finally, Camryn slipped the dance card over her wrist and waited for the commencement of the next dance. Feeling a gaze, she shifted a fraction, angling her body. Ry stared at her, his expression one of irritation before he gave a clipped nod and strode from sight. A sense of rejection filled her despite her earlier resolution. Her stomach hollowed. Silly really. This ball was business. She had no right to feel anything toward Ry.

Ry had known Camryn would attract attention. It worried him, but he’d had to let her attend. Whenever she was out of his sight, he felt physically ill. The symptoms, mild at first, had grown more acute. Ry needed to speak to Mogens but had put it off because he knew the seer would issue dire predictions along with disapproval. He knew he should stay away from Camryn O’Sullivan. Try telling his feline, the reason he kept failing. Mogens had warned him earlier yet compulsion made him keep her close. The impulse had increased until now he craved her presence, her touch and taste. He watched her chatting to several males and had to quash his surge of jealousy.

Aware he needed to mingle, he approached two women and signed their dance cards.

“Mr. Talor Coppersmith, House of the Cat,” the major domo droned.

His brother. Of course they’d bump into each other straightaway.

“Ryman, how are you?” A private smile twisted Talor’s lips, as if he knew how much Ry wanted to wring his neck.

“I’m very well.”
But he’d be better once he exacted revenge and discovered why Talor hated him so much.
He felt subtle probing of his mind. Damn, Mogens had been right about his brother. Shoving the intrusion away, he held his brother’s gaze. The debonair demeanor didn’t fool him. Smugness accompanied the charm, putting Ry on notice. His brother had a plan, just as he had one. “How are Edrea and Cody?”

“Our sisters are well. Where is Camryn, Ryman? I must claim a dance.” Talor picked up his bejeweled quizzing glass and surveyed the ballroom then zoomed in on the dance floor.

Ry bit out a curse. He’d known Talor had taken a liking to her and hated the idea. The min he’d involved Camryn and his crew, their lives were at risk. One of the Coppersmith brothers would die, and even if his gut hadn’t told him this, Mogens had yesterday after reading the clouds.

“Ah, there she is, dancing with one of my friends.” Talor beckoned, his manner imperious, and Ry saw the man dancing with Camryn stop to whisper in her ear. She glanced over at them with a frown. Ry knew she had little option, saw the fierce grasp the man had on her arm. He’d better not leave bruises.

“How convenient. They’re coming over.” Talor sounded smug and sure of himself.

“Talor, I believe you’ve met Camryn O’Sullivan already,” the man said after bowing from the waist.

“Enchanted, my dear.” Talor took Camryn’s hand and lifted it to kiss the back. Instead of kissing her gloved hand, he pressed a kiss to the bare skin of her wrist above the line of pale lilac fabric.

Ry forced himself not to react.

“Talor,” Camryn said in a hoity-toity voice.

“A woman as pretty as you must be used to men making fools of themselves in her presence,” Talor said smoothly.

“I don’t go out much. I’m a widow,” Camryn said. “I loved my husband very much and I’m not intending to replace him.”

“I am sorry to hear that,” Talor said, patting her hand with familiarity again. “I understand since I lost my mother not long ago. Her passing still hurts.”

Ry snorted. “A pity you didn’t see fit to inform me.”

“I didn’t think the news would interest an outlaw.”

A stunned silence fell. It pained Ry to know the woman he’d known as mother had died and he hadn’t said goodbye. Grief bloomed at the knowledge she’d died thinking him a thief and a liar. Katia Coppersmith had possessed a heart of solid gold and he had loved her.

“The death of a loved one always brings great pain,” Camryn murmured.

Anguish twisted inside Ry. Camryn still loved her husband or so she said. It had been the other man’s name she’d whispered last night, not his.

How did one fight a dead man?

The music trailed off and the dancers dispersed from the floor.

“I believe the next dance is mine,” Talor said, smiling at Camryn.

Camryn’s brows arched in a delicate manner. “Really?” She glanced down at her dance card before turning her attention back on him. “Are you HOC?”

“I am indeed, my dear. I’m head of the House of the Cat.” He offered his arm with a smug grin and after a brief hesitation, Camryn placed her gloved fingers on the crook. “I believe the music will start shortly.”

Ry wanted to grab Camryn from his brother. He caught a quick flash of her thoughts, her irritation at Talor’s presumptuous behavior, and attempted to quell his jealousy. The amusement flitting across his brother’s face told him he’d failed. Ry watched her to measure possible distress and saw a woman in complete control. Mogens had told him to trust Camryn and it seemed he was right.

With stealth, he attempted to read his brother’s thoughts. He caught the flash of anger before the emotions shut down abruptly. A mind block. Ry’s hands clenched and his smile never wavered.

“Ah, here’s Meghan,” Talor said, his expression sly. “You’re old friends. Why don’t you say hello while we’re dancing?”

Ry froze for a sec, staring at the beautiful redhead. Her betrayal with his brother had changed his life.

“Hello, Ryman.” Her throaty voice remained the same, and it was like stepping back in time.

“Meghan.” Ry sensed Camryn’s interest. When he gave in to temptation and scanned the dance floor, he witnessed her anxiety, the way her teeth raked her bottom lip.

“Aren’t you going to kiss me, Ryman? For old time’s sake.” Meghan pressed her full breasts against his chest. She smiled up at him, her blue eyes sparkling with humor and a tinge of lust.

Ry didn’t feel a thing and pushed her away without regret.

“Look at that strumpet,” an elderly woman said to her companion in a loud, carrying whisper.

“Crumpets? Funny thing to serve at a ball.” Her companion’s confusion was clear.

“Millicent, I told you to bring your hearing trumpet,” the woman scolded. “Strumpet, not crumpet.”

Ry turned back to Meghan, acknowledging the woman was correct. Meghan wore a sheer dress and she’d dampened the fabric so it clung to every curve, leaving nothing for a male to imagine. She cozied up to him again.

Take your hands off that woman.

Ry stilled.
Me?

Yes, you great lummox. You’re making a spectacle of yourself,
came the tart and very familiar voice.

Camryn?

Who did you expect? The abominable snowman?