Taming of the Beast (Scandalous Affairs #2) - Christi Caldwell Page 0,18
came a steady drip of water as he wrung out the cloth. “All right. Out with it,” he said impatiently. “What is to be the expected price for my freedom, kitten?”
Faye had taken care to script this entire exchange, but in all the preparations she’d done, never, at any time, had the meeting included her standing beside a naked Tynan Wylie while he bathed. She dampened her lips. “I a-am conducting research for a project.”
“And you thought to solicit my help?” He chuckled. “Find yourself a scholar, love.” There was a dismissive quality to that pronouncement.
She frowned. “No. No. It’s not a literary work, necessarily. Or, that isn’t my intention. I intend to create a book of… crimes… an exposé.”
Out of the corner of her eye, she caught him pause in the middle of scrubbing his arm. Encouraged by his silence, she continued. “It is my intention to uncover, detail, and enumerate for the world all the crimes that have been carried out and committed by the peerage.” Enlivened by the idea that had come to her and given her purpose, Faye grabbed a wood chair and forgetting his nakedness, she dragged her seat closer to Tynan’s bath. “I will lay out all those sins and explain how they were committed and the avarice and evil that drove them.”
The water sloshed noisily, and she stole a peek downward to find he’d submerged himself totally under the depths.
He came up a moment later, giving his head a shake, sending droplets splattering about like her brother’s enormous hound.
Tynan stood, unfurling to his full impressive height, and also placing that fascinating long length between his legs nearly in line with her vision briefly, before he stepped out of the tub, sending drops of water spraying upon Faye once more. “And what of your family, love?”
Her mouth dry, her heart racing, Faye forced herself to focus on the question he’d asked. “My family?”
Padding across the kitchen, he fetched himself a towel and proceeded to dry off. “Yes, yours.” He stretched that single syllable into three. “I trust they won’t make the pages of this… scandal sheet you intend to publish.”
“They’ll be included,” she murmured and then winced. “We’ll be included.” Because, like it or not, she was included in the ranks of the shameful Poplars.
Faye felt his eyes upon her and looked up.
Tynan’s chiseled features proved implacable, a rendering in stone that erased any hint of emotion and gave no indication as to what he was thinking or feeling.
Then, snapping his towel once, he wrapped it around his waist, and she gave thanks for that small but essential barrier that hid that fascinating part of his nude form from her view… and more, from her perusal.
She cleared her throat. “And it won’t be a scandal sheet. I intend for it to be a publication.”
“And my role in this is”—he rotated his right hand in a half circle—“what, exactly?”
“You’re going to provide me the names of the guilty.”
“You want me to give you the names of men and women from whom I’ve accepted bribes and reveal their crimes?” He repeated her expectations in a different way.
Faye beamed. “You have it exactly.”
He snorted. “You’re off your damned head, love. You’re wasting your time here and mine.” And she was dismissed once more as Tynan headed to the far corner of the kitchen. He retrieved a pair of clean trousers, and dropping the towel at his waist, he proceeded to dress.
“That is… it?”
“That’s it,” he said flatly. “I’ve got to see to securing my post as warden, and even if I didn’t, I’ve no intention of helping a bored lady.”
She scoffed. “Do you really believe with your criminal history of bribing the most powerful, you’ll be granted another post as warden?” She scoffed. “Furthermore, I’m not a bored lady,” she shot back. Except… “Well, I am bored.” As a social pariah, she received few invitations to events hosted by Polite Society. And even when the rare invitation did come, she’d no interest in attending. “But this has nothing to do with boredom. It has to do with what is right and just and—”
“Look at you, a regular old Saint Clare of Assisi, you are.”
“I… I’m not familiar, though my sister’s name, ironic enough, is Claire and—” Tynan stared back, his eyes widening with a slow-growing horror, and Faye made herself quit rambling. “I need your help,’ she repeated, turning her palms up. “I cannot uncover this information without your help.”