Her Reluctant Viscount (Rakes and Rogues) (8 page)

His possessiveness made her insides do strange flips and jumps. Still, her main goal was to get out of here and so she inched toward the door again.

“Jo, stop.” He never even turned just barked the order. Unlike Cam’s this time her body seemed more than willing to obey.

“Go to hell, Trystan. You do not own me.”

He whirled toward her, his face a cold mask but his eyes burned with a ferocity she had never seen before. Heat. Proprietary. Dangerous. He was furious.

“I am
trying
to save your life.” He forced the words from clenched teeth.

“Then
you
should not have lied to me about what this was all about.” Angry tears filled her eyes in danger of spilling free. “You are no better than Cam using me as bait.” She took a shuddering breath.

“Jo, I never—”

“Save it. You should be ashamed, Trystan. Not only did you endanger me but also Colin, Najja, Pug, and Clara. And Alexander. I never would have forgiven myself if anything happened to them.”

For the third time in her life, she slapped him. Then walked out, her pride left behind along with her shoe.

She found Clara as quickly as she could and her friend never missed a beat just fell into step with her. Wraps gathered they headed for their carriage. She knew Tryst would be coming after her and ordered Johnny to drive as soon as they were in.

“Everything okay, Jo?”

“No,” she said wiping at her eyes. “I need to get away.”

“Why?”

Jo explained what little she knew. Clara bless her, was furious on her behalf.

“Are you sure it is wise to leave?”

“My parents will not be gone forever and I will not risk them. Or you. Najja and her family either. If someone wants me dead I have to stay away from everyone I care about.”

Clara was quiet for a bit. “What about being safe?”

“You will be once I am gone. I grew up in Africa, Clara. I can make it on my own here.”

More silence. “I know a place.”

Jo leaned forward. “Where?”

“A few days from here. A small cottage really, along the border with Scotland. But it is secluded and may be what you are looking for. It belongs to my family and they never go there. We could each have our own room. There is a garden and I think—”

“Clara, no. You should stay here.”

Her typically quiet friend vanished.

“Not a chance. Danger or not, you are my friend and I will not leave you to face this alone. So I will accompany you.”

“Clara, someone apparently wants to kill me because I saw his tattoo. I have no wish to lose one of my dearest friends.”

Clara took her hand in the dark and squeezed. “And I have no wish to lose my
only
friend. Besides, I was with you when you saw it.”

Jo chewed her lower lip briefly before giving the driver a new destination. In less than an hour, the women were leaving London under the cover of darkness.

Tryst shoved his way through the crowd, searching for Jo only to come up short.
Shite!
Where was she? Did not she remember someone wanted her dead? With her slipper in his pocket, he headed for the door and the footmen there.

“Have you seen Miss Adrys?”

“Yes, my lord. She left.”

Damn her. A hand on his arm had him turning to face Jack. There was cold calculation in his eyes and for the first time it seriously rubbed Trystan the wrong way. He saw Jack for who he had become. Single-minded determination to get his goal, no matter who he hurt on the path.

Focusing back on the footman, Trystan asked, “Was she alone?”

“No, my lord, Miss Field accompanied her.”

“Leave us.” An order from Jack.

The footman bowed and vanished. Out of habit, Trystan moved with Jack to the side where they had relative privacy.

“This is going to be a problem for you?”

“My
problem
is you using her as bait.” Rage bubbled through his blood, heating it.

“My
goal
is to find The Alchemist.”

“By using an unsuspecting woman as bait? And putting her family and friends in danger in the process?”

“It was unlikely any harm would come to them.”

He could not believe his ears. “Since when? Or do you think someone else murdered all the patrons in The Golden Boar, just amazingly on the exact night.”

“I do not appreciate your tone.”

“Nor do I appreciate you risking Jo.”

The gleam in Jack’s eyes told Trystan he had said and revealed too much. A fact he had worry about later. He spun around only to freeze when Jack cleared his throat.

“Goodbye, Jack.”

“You are not thinking clear.”

Clenching his jaw, he pivoted. “Oh, I know exactly what I am about to do. It is very clear.”

A frown marred Jack’s face. “And that would be?”

“Tracking Jo down and keeping her safe.”

“I have another job for you that is more important.”

“You can send someone else.”

“You presume to tell me what I can and cannot do? I give the orders.” Ice threaded his words.

“I am still going to find Jo. Once I do, I will keep her safe. You do what you need to, Jack. I am doing what I need to.”

“I know you are not happy with how Cam handled things but it was under control.”

“The hell it was! Cam and his men could not even catch the assailant. You are lucky she was not killed.”

“Why?”

“Aside from the fact, Colin Faulkner thinks of her as a little sister? Or that she is loved by her parents?”

“War has costs.”

He snorted, not sure he believed the words coming from him. He knew he did not wish to. “You have no idea,” he muttered.

“I am not afraid of the Earl of Clifton.”

“Me either. His wife, Najja, however, is a whole other story. Anything happens to Jo and she would come after you.”

“Many have tried.”

“You do not get it. Many may have tried, but
she
would succeed. No one would be able to protect you. That is where I am going. To hopefully stop what would be an even bloodier mess than anything The Alchemist would do.”

Trystan left praying he was not too late. He called for his carriage and soon it raced dangerously through the streets to his townhouse. Ordering his gelding saddled, he swiftly changed and gathered his weapons.

“You have visitors, my lord,” Mills said with perfect calm.

He had no wish to talk to anyone. “Send them away.”

His butler barely blinked. “They are in the library.”

Did no one listen to him anymore? Tossing his weapons at Mills, he glared before stomping down to the library. A deep breath along with a moment to compose his features and Tryst entered.

The four waiting were men he was grateful to see. Captain Royce Bottomley and his men.

“Thought you may wish some assistance.” Royce spoke as he turned from the fireplace.

He paused. Only briefly. These four were great men who had nobly served their King publicly and now served him in secret.

“I would. I am hoping she went home. Or at least to Faulkner.”

“What about Miss Field?” Major McCutcheon posed the question.

Shite. Another obstacle. “Check her house, they may have gone there instead of Jo’s.” He ran a frustrated hand down his face. “Make no mistake, this man is a killer. He will not care who he hurts or kills to get what he wants.”

The men stared solemnly around at the others, well aware this could be the last time they saw one another alive. A tight feeling gripped his chest as he gazed at the men. Colin notwithstanding, these four were the ones he trusted over any others. Moreover, the ones he felt confident having at his back. These men
were
the group he swore he had never have again after the massacre of his last one.

“Be careful.”

They nodded and left, save for Royce. Despite only having one arm, Royce was a very capable, very dangerous man. More so than anyone else in the group of four, Tryst believed. “Something on your mind, Royce?”

“You look like hell, have you had any sleep?”

“A few hours. Why?”

“You are no good off your game.”

“She is in danger!” He bit off each word.

“Yes. We both know Jo is smart. Again, you are no good without rest. Besides, you cannot check Clara’s tonight. We are each riding out. You check her home and her country estate. We will find her.”

Jo. He disliked having another male say it with ease. Royce was a family friend however. Plus the Adrys’ did not stand much on formalities and typical
ton
behavior. He hated that the man made sense and, with a resigned sigh, walked Royce to the door.

“Be careful,” he reiterated his earlier comment.

A brief handshake and all Trystan heard was the echo of Royce’s boots as he left. Turning to call for Mills, he paused at the sight of his butler standing there.

“Your stallion is stabled and your items are back in your room.”

His stallion? Ptolemy should not be here. Staring at his butler, he realized the man had sent for it, so he did not have to make another trip out to Jack’s. Somehow, he always knew.

“Thank you.”

He hated not leaving now but knew Royce had made a very valid point. He was already exhausted. There was not a need for a lot of sleep but once he left there would be very little safe rest. If he was lucky, Jo would be at Clara’s and Najja would be none the wiser. Back upstairs, he stripped and crawled into bed. Just a few hours.

§ § §

The figure watching the house shifted into a more comfortable position. Four men came and four men left a while later. Not the lord of the house, no. He remained indoors. Was he unconcerned? He had been at the museum after the attack watching the viscount’s daughter.

Perhaps the information was wrong and she was nothing more than a chit he knew. Rumor was he had followed her to the gardens and saved her. Could just be a coincidence.

Time would tell. For now, all that was important was following the viscount, Trystan Wilkes. A man who worked in secret for the Crown. Scanning the area again, he settled back to do just that. So in tune to the task at hand and his arrogance of being invisible he never knew what hit him. When he touched the dart in his neck, it was too late and his eyes closed.

§ § §

The painful prick pulled him from his rest. Still, groggy, he shifted only to freeze when another sting was felt located much lower on his anatomy.
What the hell?
His deep breath brought the force against his neck tighter.

“Give me one reason I should allow you to live.” The voice was barely above a whisper yet could not have been clearer to his ears.

“I was trying to—” He stopped at the increased pressure to his privates. Opening his eyes, Trystan’s first thought was,
I will never see Jo again.
Soulless eyes gazed at him in what little bit of morning light there existed.
Shite. Caught unawares in my own house.
He did not struggle for he knew it would be futile.

“Can we discuss this Najja? Preferably without the blades to my neck and…um…well you know. And with me dressed?”

This was not the Countess of Clifton, mother, and wife, he faced. No, this was Najja the assassin. A woman who would just as soon take a life as breathe, the one her father had created—the perfect killing machine. At this particular moment in time, that meant his life. Moving slow he brought one hand up to the sai at his neck, placed two fingers against the blade and tried moving it away from its current position. No good. It never budged.