The Taming of Ryder Cavanaugh (The Cynster Sisters Duo 2)

“You do realize,” Patience said, “that you will be expected to bring him to his knees?”

Alathea chuckled. “Indeed. You will have to exact from him the full price for marrying a Cynster—he absolutely must declare his love for you.”

Patience nodded. “And from such as him, it will have to be in words, with no roundaboutation.”

Mary considered, then said, “I don’t think roundaboutation will be a problem, not with Ryder. But as for the rest—well, that’s my challenge, isn’t it?”

The others softly laughed and agreed.

“But what happened with this necklace you’ve all set such store by?” Honoria asked.

Mary glanced down, then hauled the pendant from between her breasts and realized it wasn’t overly warm.

She thought back to all the times it had been . . . slowly, she blinked. “I think,” she murmured, “that the necklace worked exactly as it should have.”

The other three ladies studied her face, then Honoria said, “In that case, I believe we can have faith that all is exactly as it should be.”

At the far end of the room, Gabriel turned to Ryder. “I can see you have doubts that it was Fitzhugh behind the attack. I wondered if there was anything in your finances, any investments or estates matters or even recent acquisitions”—Gabriel nodded at the antique globe—“that might in any way have precipitated the incident.”

Ryder grimaced. “Not that I’m aware of. We haven’t made any acquisitions of that type for years—most of the art and antiquities date from my father or grandfather—and as for the estate and finances in general, mine are handled by Montague, as are yours.” Ryder glanced at Devil, now leaning against the desk beside him. “So how likely is that as a cause?”

“Not likely at all.” Vane met Ryder’s eyes. “So now we’re out of earshot of the ladies, tell us why you really got us here.”

Ryder fleetingly grinned. “I did, indeed, have another purpose. The attack was specific, targeted, and very nearly did for me—if the knife had struck a few inches higher, I would have died. And now there’s Mary. If in the near future anything should happen to me—”

“We would, of course, step in and take care of Mary.” Devil met Ryder’s eyes. “Is that what you wanted to hear?”

Ryder nodded. “Randolph, my brother—half brother, to be exact—is my heir, but he’s too young to adequately protect her. And I would prefer Mary is never . . . I hesitate to say ‘left at my stepmother Lavinia’s mercy.’ While I don’t imagine Lavinia would do anything truly heinous, she is capable of behaving atrociously and is highly antipathetic toward me, and I fully expect that to extend to Mary.”

Devil nodded decisively. “If anything should happen to you, we’ll make sure Mary is taken back into the Cynster fold.”

Ryder inclined his head. “Thank you.”

“So your stepmother doesn’t like you.” Gabriel caught Ryder’s gaze. “Could she have been behind the attack?”

Ryder considered, then grimaced. “I really can’t see it. Lavinia is all melodrama and sweeping accusations. She’s one of those women who always feels put upon, or let down, or done badly by, but while she will rant, rail, and even rage, I can’t imagine her ever actually doing anything about me—she never has. Aside from all else, if she removed me, who would she blame for all the disappointments in her life? And as for hiring men to kill me, I seriously doubt she’d have the faintest idea how.”

“In that case”—Devil straightened from the desk and turned toward the ladies—“Fitzhugh remains the most likely suspect. I’ll see if there’s any way to get word to him that there’s nothing to his wife’s assertions. Failing that, perhaps we can arrange to get word should he return to the capital.”

Ryder strolled with the others toward the assembled ladies—and for the first time ever, one of them was his.

Fifteen minutes later, ignoring the look Mary cast him that stated very clearly she thought he should remain in the library conserving his strength while she did the honors, Ryder walked out to the front hall to farewell his Cynster guests. The ladies went ahead while Vane and Gabriel followed, leaving Devil and Ryder strolling more slowly in the rear.

Grasping the moment of relative privacy, Ryder murmured, “I’m rather surprised you’ve all taken this so . . . amicably, shall we say? I was anticipating a somewhat more hostile reception.”

His gaze fixed on those ahead, Devil fleetingly grinned—a flash of white teeth in his harsh-featured face. “Ah, but you are who, and what, you are, and given we know Mary rather better than you, we can appreciate just how much you deserve her.”

Ryder blinked. “That doesn’t sound comforting.”

“It wasn’t meant to.” Devil’s grin returned. “Let’s just say all the Cynster males are distinctly grateful to you for volunteering to take her off our hands—the headache of dealing with her is now officially yours.”

Ryder pondered that, and the light it cast on his soon to be formally betrothed, but when, turning from waving her relatives off, allowing Pemberly to shut the front door, she immediately glided to his side, exasperated anxiety in her blue eyes, he smiled and decided that her challenge was one he was looking forward to meeting.

“You must be flagging,” she nagged.

Immediately seeing the possibilities, he reached a hand to the top of the hall table, as if bracing his weight, and lightly shrugged. “Perhaps a little.”

She made a disgusted sound. “Men—you’re all alike. Would it actually hurt to admit you’re in less than tip-top condition?”