“Jewels, I have been thinking about this …” He tried to interrupt.
“Babette will do more than deal Faro. I am going to beat him in Piquet, myself … as Babette … for the house!”
“You will do no such thing!”
“I will … and I will make the house enough money to kick him in the—”
“Jewels!” He stopped her then and shook his head as one finger up in the air stilled her argument. “I will not allow it. He will see through your disguise at such close contact.”
She pouted and conceded. “Very well … but in the meantime, I want you and Lyla to come to lunch. Elizabeth would like that …” She had the satisfaction of seeing the color rise to his cheeks.
“That wouldn’t be wise, Jewels … you know, I am not in a position to … to …”
“To what … have a bite to eat with friends? Nonsense. Bring Lyla and come to lunch.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said and inclined his head.
*
At the White Stag Ryker became engrossed in a lively conversation with two gentlemen who had arrived some minutes after him in search of a room. It appeared a pugilism match was scheduled during the week, and nearly every inn on Wight was completely booked. The young men were in high spirits, and although they sat at another table, they maintained a lively banter. Ryker enjoyed listening to their hearty conversation while he sipped his coffee and added a few sentences regarding the upcoming event.
They were fair, they were young, and they were probably not much older than Jimmy. Ryker rather liked them until one of them put down his pewter of ale and remarked, “By Jove! Look at that rough and tumble stunning piece of flesh. Every inch of her made for tossing!”
Ryker’s gray eyes hardened, and for no particular reason he felt like punching the poor fellow in the nose; then he saw how they must see Jewels, and he wanted to take her over his knee.
He said curtly, “Excuse me, gentlemen.” He was up and marching across the room to intercept Jewel’s further entrance into the main hall. He took her arm roughly and steered her forcibly around toward the exit and out of their sight.
“What the deuce do you think you are doing?” She gasped.
He was furious and couldn’t say why. How she behaved or dressed had naught to do with him. However, he owed it to her aunt to see her safely away from the manly crew inhabiting the inn at the moment.
Also, he owed it to his mother, as long as he was a guest in the Henshaw House, to look out for the wayward chit. He owed it to … damnation to hell … she was the devil of a hoyden that wanted manners!
“Devil is in it, Jewels … I am doing what is necessary. Have you no sense walking into a public galley dressed as you are, inviting insult to yourself and your family name?”
Jewels blushed. Indeed, he wasn’t a dunce and could see from her reaction that she had not set out to buck the proprieties by gadding about in her buckskin riding clothes. No doubt it was an informal style she had adopted at home that had carried over and had been loosely accepted by the town. She hadn’t realized how many strangers would be at the inn for the upcoming event.
He could see also by the sparkle of her green eyes that she was now on the defensive, and something inside him lit with amusement. “How the devil was I to tell you I was ready to return home? Surely you didn’t expect me to stand about outside?” she snapped.
“I expected you to send me word. That is what those link boys out there are for,” he said glibly.
He watched her bite her bottom lip and wished it was his teeth nibbling there, his mouth on hers, his tongue plunging into her …
She turned and marched out of the inn. He followed and heard one of the men at his back say, “I’d follow that butt as well …” He did just that, deciding not to take the fellow to task for his comments.
Outside and mounted on their horses, he said softly, “I seem to remember, Jewelene, a promise to give me a tour of Yarmouth Castle …”
She glanced sidewise at him. “It doesn’t open until later. Perhaps Jimmy will give you a tour another time.” Her tone was snappish, and she definitely cold shouldered him.
“The promise came from you. I expect you to keep it …” he said pointedly.
“Very well, but you won’t enjoy it,” she snapped.
“That is probably true,” he bantered. She eyed him with the hint of a smile in her eyes, and he laughed out loud. “Do you always torture anyone who has displeased you?”
“Always. I am most spiteful.”
“I find that hard to believe … and I am certain you are not so … to one man at least …”