Sweeter Than Sin (16 page)

"So let us not blather on about morality. I am offering you a bargain—"

"No, you are offering me blackmail," corrected Kyra.

"Call what you will," snapped Matherton. "We both will benefit." His patience seemed to be slipping away for he gave her a nasty little shake as he spoke. "What's your answer?"

"I..." Her throat tightened.
Yes or no?

A sudden growl sounded. Hero bounded through the pergola, dropped his stick and bared his teeth.

Matherton let go of her and backed up a step. Though the dog was still hardly more than a pup, he had put on enough bulk to appear formidable, especially with his ears laid back and his hackles raised.

The growl sounded again as Hero came closer. Kyra had never seen her sweet-tempered dog look so fierce.

"Get away, you flea-benighted cur."

Matherton lashed out a kick, but Hero was too quick. Dodging the boot, the dog twisted and snapped his jaws, catching the cuff of his attacker's trousers.

Rip.

An oath rent the air, as Matherton shook free and stared down at the tear in the expensive fabric. "Bloody Hellhound," he added, as Hero danced out of reach and snarled back at him.

"I'm warning you, Kyra. Don't trifle with me. I need—"

"Ah, are we having a bit of sporting play with the dog?"

Kyra felt a rush of relief as Jack walked out from the shadows of the ivy-twined pergola, followed by Rafael.

Jack paused to lean down and pick up the stick Hero had dropped. "Might we be allowed to join in?"

* * *

Some sort of game was afoot, noted Rafael as he moved with deliberate slowness across the lawn. But it was not a light-hearted one. Kyra's face was ashen and she nearly stumbled in her haste to turn away from the handsome stranger and rush to greet her childhood friend.

"Halloo,
amigo
," he murmured, as Hero bounded up, tail wagging, and licked his hand. After ruffling his fingers through the dog's coarse, curling gray fur, Rafael added, "You are a very excellent companion to your mistress, and shall have a special beefsteak treat when next you visit the Hall."

While he spoke, his gaze remained locked on Kyra. Whatever private conversation had been taking place between her and the stranger, it had left her shaken.

The gentleman's identity was quickly revealed by Jack's next words. After tossing the stick for Hero, his cousin shifted his stance and fixed the fellow with a coolly apprising stare. "What brings you out from London, Matherton? Country pursuits are not your usual pleasure, as I recall."

Matherton.
Rafael felt his jaw tighten. So this was Kyra's former fiancé. He, too, wondered what the devil the man was doing here.

"To begin with, I wished to be one of the first of your friends to welcome you back from the grave," said Matherton smoothly. "I was absolutely elated to hear of your survival."

Jack's expression turned a touch sardonic.

"As for enjoying a sojourn to the country..." Matherton cast a sidelong glance at Kyra. "I find it has its own unique charm."

She seemed to shrink from the ice-blue glitter of his gaze.

"And of course, I had heard about the gala ball to be given in honor of your homecoming and naturally I wished to be part of the festivities. Indeed, Kyra was just inviting me to attend, isn't that so, my dear."

"Yes." There was barely any breath behind her response.

"So although I must return to Town to attend to some matters, I shall be returning here again quite soon," finished Matherton.

"Be sure to bring a large trunk of clothing with you," quipped Jack. "Country life appears be a trifle rough on your usual sartorial splendor." His brows waggled as he regarded the ripped trousers. "Dear me, those look to be tailored by Weston. Does he still charge exorbitant price for his handiwork?"

A small flicker of annoyance pulled at Matherton's smile. "That dog is wild and menace to polite company. It could do with a good beating to teach it some manners."

"Whips and cudgels teach nothing but hate and resentment." Rafael couldn't keep from speaking up. "Earn a dog's respect and it will gladly obey you."

Anger flared in the other man's eyes, though he kept his smile frozen in place. "I didn't know you had hired a new kennel master here at Pierpont Manor, Kyra."

Jack responded before she could muster a reply. "I don't believe you have met my cousin, who prefers to go by his English name, Mr. Greeley, rather than his Spanish title of Count Olivito." To Rafael, he said, "Allow me to introduce Lord Matherton, who is a baron—or is it baronet? "

Jack's subtle emphasis on his modest title turned Matherton's expression even more hostile. "A count, eh?" he sneered. "How very impressive. However, from what I've heard, in Spain, unlike England, even base-born paupers can purchase a title."

"I wouldn't know about such things," said Rafael. His august lineage wasn't something he chose to wave around in public like a gold-threaded banner, but in this case, he made an exception. "My family is one of the oldest Grandees of Spain."

"Which is the highest and most aristocratic of all the nobility," murmured Jack.

Matherton merely glowered and then inclined a small bow to Kyra. "I can't tell you what pleasure it gives me to find you looking so well. I must be taking my leave. However, I look forward to seeing you again very soon. We have so much to discuss, both about the past and the future."

He started to turn away, and then paused. "Oh, and did I mention that I shall be coming with Chesterfield. We'll be staying at his family's estate in order to attend the ball. As you recall, he was a very close friend of your sister. He's been asking about you and will delighted to hear of your recovery."

Rafael didn't miss the fact that if anything, Kyra turned even paler. Her face was now as white and lifeless as the carved marble statuary decorating the nearby fountain.

Bowing her head, she stood fussing with the cut greenery and flowers in her basket until the crunch of Matherton's footsteps on the graveled path died away. "I—I had best be going, too. These herbs need to put away properly in the stillroom."

Rafael gave a low whistle for Hero, who had been sitting across from the pergola, the watching the proceeding while gnawing on his stick. "
Amigo
, go keep milady company as she walks to the house." A quick hand signal punctuated the command.

The dog bounded over and nuzzled her hand.

"If your Father has need of a kennel master, perhaps he should consider hiring Rafael," murmured Jack.

Kyra essayed a weak smile. "Mr. Greeley has an excellent rapport with all fauna and flora." She hesitated. "I would invite you to come in for tea..." Another little nervous touch to the greenery. "However I really should attend to these."

"But of course," said Jack heartily. "We had no intention of interrupting you. We were merely enjoying a constitutional stroll along the lake and thought we would head home by way of the upper pathway."

"The walking is doing both of you a world of good. You are looking very well."

Unfortunately, the same could not be said of her, observed Rafael. She ready to swoon on the spot.

"Stronger every day," Jack cocked a jaunty salute as she and Hero headed off down the side path leading to the kitchen gardens.

"Something is, you do you say it in English, havey-cavey here," muttered Rafael as soon as he was sure she was out of earshot.

"Aye,
very
havey-cavey," agreed his cousin.

"That fellow frightens Lady Kyra."

"I've always thought him to be a thoroughly dirty dish."

Rafael wasn't familiar with that bit of cant, but its meaning was clear enough. "Have you indeed?" He lapsed into a thoughtful silence for several long moments. "Then we shall have to discover what nefarious plans Mr. Matherton has up his sleeve." A mirthless grin. "Had they been up his trouser leg, they would have been revealed."

"Clever dog," said Jack. "But we shall have to be even cleverer to best a scoundrel at his own sordid game."

"And so we shall be," vowed Rafael. "The predator may seek to prey on a lone lady, thinking she is helpless to defend herself, but he shall soon find there are sharp teeth and claws stalking his own worthless hide."

"Your sentiments appear edged with a flash of fire." A hint of a smile pulled at the corners of Jack's mouth. "It seems you have developed a rather warm friendship with Kyra."

He felt a flush steal to his cheekbones. "I... that is, you..."
Damnation
. This was a deucedly awkward subject. "I am aware that you have a very high regard for the lady—"

"The very
highest
," interrupted Jack. "I love her like..." There was a pause as he drew in a deep breath.

Rafael shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot. By every code of honor, his cousin had first claim to Kyra's affections. He would, of course, gracefully withdraw...

"Like a
brother
," finished Jack, a twinkle lighting his still-sunken eyes. "You have my blessing—nay, my encouragement—to offer yourself as her two-footed Hero."

"I don't think she would accept me if I did," he mumbled. "Yes, we have come to be friends." A grimace. "At least I think we have. But she seems determined to keep me at a distance."

"Hell's bells, can you blame her?" exclaimed Jack. "She's been badly hurt by a scoundrel. It's up to you to win her trust, and convince her that not all gentlemen are callous louts."

"I—I am not sure how."

"You've always been far too modest, my dear cuz. Trust me, I've watched women flutter around you like moths drawn to a flame."

"All those women can't hold a candle to Kyra. She is different," said Rafael softly. "Special."

"Of course she's special." Jack grinned. "She's the lady you love."

Love.

Rafael had shied away from admitting his feelings, even to himself. But the truth was, he
did
love Kyra. He loved her courage, her compassion, her strength. He loved her artistic spirit, her inquisitive intelligence, her luminous beauty. He loved her smile, her laugh, her grace.

Squaring his shoulders, he stared off into the gardens, watching the subtle play of sunlight and shadow bring the textures and colors of the plantings to life. "
Si
, I love her."

"Thank God," Jack cut a flourish through the air with his cane. "I thought I might have to knock some sense into your thick skull, and my arm is still a trifle weak."

"But I fear—"

"No buts, no fear," counseled his cousin. "If you wish to be worthy of her, then fight for her. And vanquish her tormentor in the bargain. We are warriors, you and I. We know how to fight. And we know how to win."

Chapter 11

After carefully securing the latch to the stillroom door, Kyra slumped back against the age-dark oak and tried to steady the trembling of her limbs.

One impetuous error of judgment.

Tears pooled in her eyes. Which had led to an even more grievous mistake. How could she have let herself be seduced by a serpent's forked tongue? Matherton had encouraged her to be rash, to be reckless. His words still echoed against her skull—
a daring lady is deliciously alluring
.

And she had believed him. But at heart, the fault lay with her, not with him. She could have said no to temptation.

"I am wicked," Kyra whispered, a wave of self-loathing cresting up inside her. "Wicked, wicked, wicked."

One life of a loved one had already been destroyed because of her actions. Now another hung in the balance. Agreeing to Matherton's despicable proposal was a small price to pay to protect her Father's happiness. Even if it meant giving up any hope of...

Pressing her back hard against the planked wood, she forced herself to forget the solemn, shadowed expression on Rafael's face as he had watched her move away from her former fiancé. He kept his feelings well-hidden, so she could only imagine what he must have been thinking.

Nothing good, that was for sure.

Which was all for the best. He deserved a lady untainted by scandal.

She touched the sprigs of St John's wort in her basket. Already the delicate flowers were beginning to wilt. An apt metaphor for her own tentative dreams, which had been nipped in the bud.