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

His head shouldn’t have been whirling; his senses should have been far too jaded to fall so easily to the glory and the wonder.

She drank him in; he couldn’t get enough of her.

Sirenlike, she lured him in, on . . .

The pealing of the front doorbell jerked them back to the present.

As one they broke from the kiss. Stunned, he gazed down at her . . . and saw a smile—one of discovery tinged with wonder—curve her slightly swollen lips, then spread to her eyes, making them shine. . . .

The sound of approaching footsteps and familiar voices dragged his attention to the door. “My half siblings,” he murmured.

“Ah.”

He released her and she stepped back. He grabbed his cane before it fell, and together they turned to the door.

It swung open, propelled by a vision in fashionably frothy apple-green muslin.

“Ryder! My God! Are you all right? We only just heard!” Stacie raced across the room.

The sight of Mary standing beside him brought his half sister to a skidding halt, stopping her from flinging herself into his arms—which, in light of his injury, was just as well.

“Oh!” Eyes riveted on Mary, Stacie searched for and found a polite smile. “Hello.”

From Stacie’s tone and the questioning glance she slid him, Ryder deduced she, at least, hadn’t heard about his engagement. “This is Miss Cynster.” Turning to Mary, he said, “Mary—allow me to present my half sister, Lady Eustacia, known to all as Stacie.”

Mary calmly smiled. “Yes, I know. We’ve met. Good afternoon, Stacie.”

Unsurprisingly wide-eyed, Stacie politely nodded and touched fingers. “Mary.” Glancing at Ryder, then around, confirming the room was otherwise empty, devoid of lurking chaperons, Stacie asked, “What’s going on?”

As at that moment Rand, Kit, and Godfrey—Ryder’s three half brothers—reached them, he managed to avoid answering, having to deal instead with a barrage of exclamations and questions.

“What the deuce?” Rand said. “Why didn’t you tell us you were attacked?” He bowed to Mary. “Miss Cynster—a pleasure . . .” Noticing what Stacie had, Rand frowned.

“How bad is it?” Godfrey asked, then promptly answered with the obvious, “Well, clearly not that bad.” He dipped his head to Mary. “Miss Cynster.”

The most observant of the four, Christopher—Kit—had halted a yard away, looking from Ryder to Mary and back again. Eventually meeting Ryder’s eyes, he raised both brows. “Thought you were at death’s door, and instead . . .” Fluidly bowing to Mary, he said, “Your servant, Miss Cynster.” Then he looked back at Ryder. “Well, for heaven’s sake, tell us—what the devil’s going on?”

Ryder held up a hand. “First, from whom did you hear I was attacked?”

Rand looked sheepish. “I bumped into David on the street a few hours ago—literally. He was dead on his feet. Don’t blame him—he was half asleep and mumbled something about you recovering well. After that, of course, I browbeat him into telling me what the deuce you were recovering from. He made me promise not to tell anyone, but”—Rand glanced at his siblings—“obviously he didn’t mean this lot.”

Ryder had his doubts about that, but . . . “Very well. Let’s sit down like civilized people and I’ll tell you all.”

“But where are you hurt?” Stacie took his arm as if to assist him to a chair.

Ryder didn’t budge. “My side, which means I’m perfectly able to walk.”

Stacie met his eyes, then wrinkled her nose at him. “Then do—to a chair.”

Ryder chuckled and did, but he elected to sit beside Mary on the chaise. The others all subsided into the various chairs, all fixing demandingly inquisitive gazes on his face. Inwardly sighing, he gave them a severely edited version of events—which naturally led to all four expressing their heartfelt thanks to Mary.

She accepted the accolades with serene calm and the observation “It was the least I could do.”

“Yes, well.” Ryder took back the conversational reins. “That’s not my only news. Miss Cynster has done me the honor of accepting my offer for her hand, and will therefore soon be your

sister-in-law.”

“Really?” Stacie sat up, eyes widening, totally distracted from his injury. “There’s to be a wedding?”