Taming of the Beast (Scandalous Affairs #2) - Christi Caldwell Page 0,32

had a blade pressed against you here. You’ve never been forced to decide between giving up something you need, like food or coin, in favor of keeping your life,” he murmured. The long, graceful column moved wildly under his touch. “You’ve been gossiped about by nasty lords and ladies. All the while, the only hurt they inflict is upon your bruised feelings. They aren’t people whom you need to be peering over your shoulder to watch out for.” He flicked her puffed sleeve, setting those beads ajingle. “Men, who’d happily curve a hand here”—he cupped her lightly by the front of her neck—“and squeeze so tight you can’t even make a sound as you fight for breath, or so quick as to snap your neck with a mere flick.”

Her eyes bulged with a palpable terror.

A fear potent enough to send a grown man running.

Satisfied, Tynan released his hold upon her.

Faye immediately drew in a noisy breath, touching that same place where he’d lightly gripped her a moment ago. “That is why I need to do this,” she said, her strong voice contradicting the fear radiating from those expressive brown eyes. “Because the lords and ladies you speak of? They aren’t just harmless gossips wielding only words. Among them are people who’ve committed acts of evil and who deserve to be revealed for precisely what and who they are.” This time, something replaced the previous disquiet she’d emanated—determination. A grit so strong and intense it was hard to not be impressed by her.

Bloody, bloody hell.

He released a long string of curses, black ones that should have elicited a blush from the lady. She continued staring calmly back.

“You don’t intend on relenting.”

“Not at all.” She smiled.

There was nothing he could say to talk her out of this. At least, not now. “All right. I don’t have endless time to enter into whatever game you’re playing. I’ve got my own life to see to. Next, terms.”

With an enthusiastic nod of her head, she scrambled forward. “Of course!”

“I don’t want that child you’ve dragged into the Rookeries here.” As it was, he risked enough having dealings with one proper lady. To add a second into the mix? Nay, their lofty relatives would happily finish him off where Newgate had failed.

“Do you mean Daria?”

Tynan made a show of looking over the kitchens. “Is there someone else here? A third, fourth, or even fifth lady I should expect to pop out?”

She puzzled her brow. “No—”

“I was being sarcastic,” he snapped.

“Oh.” She paused. “Well, either way, the answer is no. Daria is my only friend and my closest confidante. She is very much part of—”

“She could be the goddamned Queen of England ordering you to keep her here. She’s not allowed.” Tynan spoke over Faye’s interruption. “If you care about her…” Or, for that matter, if she cared a bit about her own self. “If you care about her safety and survival, you’ll keep her out of these streets.” Tynan let that thought sit in silence.

In a visible sign the lady warred with herself, Faye caught her lower lip between her teeth and worried at the flesh.

Over the years, Tynan had engaged in all manner of dealings with all manner of people, enough to know how to read absolutely everyone, and that went for the five-feet-nothing woman before him. He’d known her for a day, but he’d already gathered she wasn’t the sort who’d factor her own well-being or safety into her decisions. And she was a fool for it.

He hooded his lashes. “What’s it going to be?” he put to her. “A party of one? Or a party of none?”

“Very well. Daria shall not be included in my outings.”

He laughed outright. “Your… outings?” He strangled on mirth born of disbelief over the extent of her naïveté.

“I’m sorry.” Her cheeks pinkened. “Our outings,” she amended, and his laugh grew more strained at just how obtuse she was. God, she was as innocent and naïve as any he’d ever dealt with, and that was saying something.

“Yes, just the two of us, then, for our… outings.”

“I beg your pardon.” She bristled. “Are you laughing at me?”

“Yes,” he said automatically. “You’ve got five days.”

Faye crossed her arms. “Ten.”

Ah, it was too much to hope she didn’t know the art of the haggle. “A week.”

Faye shot a hand out. Too quickly.

He studied those long digits draped in satin casings. “I could have settled this at five.”

She smiled.

Cursing, Tynan took her hand, and swiftly turning it over, he teased the inside of