He stepped around her then, blocking her view of the others and shielding her body with his own. “If you’ll excuse us, gentlemen.” He cocked both the hammers on his pistols back, the sound echoing through the streets.
“No need fer that,” the Scot called before the shuffling of their feet caught her ears. She nearly wilted against him in relief but a new fear niggled at her insides. Who was the man she was now alone with?
Several seconds passed and then he finally turned back to her. Tricia clutched her stomach and tried not to sway on her feet as her eyes quickly shifted to the ground. “Thank you, kind sir, for your aid,” she managed to push out between labored breaths. “I won’t trouble you further.” And then she took a step away, desperate to retreat. While he had protected her, for all she knew, he was more dangerous than the group she had just encountered.
“Hold on,” the voice grunted behind her. “I don’t know what insanity brought you here tonight but I will see you out of docklands and into respectable neighborhoods and then I will happily allow you to trouble me no further.”
Tricia notched up her chin and found herself looking squarely into a man’s chest. She blinked several times before her head tilted up to see a broad set of shoulders, then the lean column of his neck. A square jaw and lips far too tempting to be on such a hard man. Finally she met a set of the most penetrating eyes she’d ever encountered.
“I can’t do that,” she whispered. Even if she did trust him, which she most probably didn’t, she had important business here. And while he appeared to want to help her, there was something dangerous about him. Her body fluttered with a pent-up energy that she hardly recognized.
His eyes widened for a moment before those full, sumptuous lips thinned into a tight line. “You will do exactly as I said.”
She blinked because he sounded like…well, like her father, the Duke of Waverly. “You must be titled.” She nibbled on her lip, her eyes studying his features again, trying and failing to place him. But it did ease some of her concern that they travelled in the same social circle. With that said, she’d have to be careful to protect her identity.
Not that she cared about being ruined. She didn’t. She had no plans to marry, so it was of little consequence.
He let out a long slow breath as though he were trying to regain his patience. “It matters not. What does matter is that you come with me and we get you to a safer place.”
She still held the miniature in her hand and she thrust it out at him then. “Have you seen this man?”
Surprise lit his eyes again followed by a sneer. “Is that why you’re here? Searching for a man? Is he your husband?”
“Fenton? My husband? Goodness no, he’s my cousin and he’s in trouble.” Tricia stepped closer then, her fear forgotten. “You haven’t seen him, have you?”
“No, I have not.” He holstered one of the pistols he’d been holding and then grabbed her upper arm.
Tricia had to stop allowing men to do that. He said little else as he turned on his heel, one pistol still in his other hand and began marching down the street pulling her along behind him.
“Has anyone ever told you that you are rather heavy-handed?”
“Yes,” he answered. “Has anyone ever told you that you are terribly foolish?”
“Hmm.” She tried to pull away but his grip was quite firm. “They usually say such things to my sister.”
He stopped then, turning to her with one of his eyebrows quirked. “There is another one like you?”
Tricia assessed him, wondering if that was a compliment or an insult. “She’s much more adept at this than I am. Or at least she was before she wed.”
He let out an incredulous chuckle then. “A man wed her?”
Now she knew he wasn’t complimenting either of them. “Luke is quite smitten with her, I’ll have you know.”
“I’m sure they are gloriously happy.” He started walking again as though she didn’t tug at all.
They were moving out of the docklands and she gave a little sigh, trying one last time to pull away. She’d worked so hard to get here. “Please, my lord. I need to find Fenton.” She tugged again.
He stopped, looking at her again. “What is your name?”
Tricia bit her lip. “I don’t think it’s wise to tell you.”
“Finally you show some modicum of sense.” His eyes assessed her for several seconds, his look not giving anything away. It remained stoic, his posture rigid. “Tell me any name you wish, I care not, just so long as I have something to call you other than foolish girl.”
She bristled at being called both foolish and girl. She had just turned nineteen, thank you very much. “You may call me Trish. What shall I call you besides overbearing stiff?”
He gave an exasperated sigh. “Ryker. Now Trish, let’s leave before any more trouble finds us.”
“I cannot,” she shook her head and had the sense to back away from him then. “I appreciate your help, truly, but I must find Fenton.”