Taming of the Beast (Scandalous Affairs #2) - Christi Caldwell Page 0,61

“And you just happened to take him down? This most famed of street fighters?”

“There was, of course, the element of surprise, which is handy for a man in a street battle.”

“You coordinated that meeting so that I would rethink my plans.”

Tynan rocked back, surprise marching across his features.

He was an impressive actor.

With that, Faye stepped around him.

“I most certainly did not send anyone to accost you,” he said, his pronouncement so rich with indignation and shock it gave her pause.

She slowed her step. “Of course,” she breathed, the chill of the winter air making her words tremble and her teeth chatter.

“Of course what?” he asked, his features set in a scowl.

As if he had any grounds for being upset.

“Finn,” she said tightly.

Tynan glanced about, as if searching for the boy.

“You were here, and Finn was also here. He came because he was aware of what you were up to.”

Tynan’s mouth moved. “You think that Finn came here because I put him up to…” His words trailed off, and something flashed in his eyes, that was gone quickly, but there long enough for her to see. He immediately hooded his soot-black lashes. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I think you do, Tynan Wylie,” she said, going up on tiptoe so she could better hold his gaze. Never had she hated more the extreme disadvantage of her height when squaring off with a taller opponent. “Tell me you did not express your annoyance about me being around to that child.”

“Faye,” he said, her name a study in rich exasperation. “I’ve made no attempt to hide my annoyance with you from you.”

Faye found her footing and resumed walking onward. “Hmph.”

“Hmph. What the hell is that supposed to mean?” he demanded, and this time, he jogged sideways beside her.

“It means someone who robbed me of fifty pounds and provided me with a false address and who told me horror stories about the Rookeries in a bid to convince me to drop my pursuit is hardly a person I’m going to take at face value, Mr. Wylie.”

“Fair enough. I did take your fifty pounds, and… and… do all those other things, but goddamn it, I wouldn’t send a London street tough to endanger you, Faye.” He stopped quickly, and Faye kept walking. “Faye,” he tried again.

She knew the moment he stopped following her. She felt his absence because, God help her, for whatever reason she’d an awareness of him. One that she didn’t understand. One that she couldn’t make sense of.

Keep going. Do not stop. Keep going.

Only, if she did, then what?

You still need him. You still cannot do this without the help he’s willing to provide you.

“Help,” she muttered to herself as she approached her hack. She was being a fool. She wanted to believe in his honor. And yes, he’d given her a name, but how helpful and, more important, how truthful had he been with her?

This, however, had been a bridge too far.

“Faye.” His shout grew more distant as she reached her rented conveyance, not looking back even as everything within her called her to turn and face him once more.

Drawing the door open, she climbed inside, and knocking once on the roof, she left.

Tynan stood there, staring after Faye’s retreating hack as it carried the lady out of the Rookeries and on to her posh, cushy existence.

His breath swirled a little cloud of white around him.

Good.

She’d gone.

Let her go.

Nor, for that matter, should he give two shites whether or not Faye Poplar believed him when he said he’d nothing to do with her attack by Bragger. Now, he was fifty pounds richer from her and free to go about attempting to win back his role of warden. No more strings attached. Not that there ever truly had been where she or anyone else was concerned.

He’d never been about helping people who didn’t in some way serve a purpose to him.

Nay, Tynan had been singular only in his views on strangers: he didn’t need them. Not beyond acquiring the funds that kept a person secure and safe. Money and power were all that stood between him and the workhouse.

But, damn it, for some unexplainable reason, it did bother him. It grated mightily. Her allegations. Her refusal to believe the word he’d given her. Nay, it wasn’t even that. It was that she believed him capable of hurting her. Of sending a man after her to instill holy terror in her. Granted, she was in desperate need of the sentiment, but he