Page 25 of Dangerous

Mia wasted no time.

“Lord Ramsay,” she said, easing up beside him and giving him a flattering look from beneath her lashes. Flattery was not something she had to feign. Ramsay stood a good head taller than any other man in the room and he towered over Mia. His enormous body was well-formed and impeccably clad. And his face, although marred by the scar that ran across it and the patch that covered one eye, was almost obnoxiously attractive.

He bowed over her hand, an amiable smile on his handsome face. Mia opened her mouth to begin her campaign.

“Lady Exley,” he said, putting emphasis on the two words. Mia looked closer and realized there was a hard glint in his solitary green eye. “I suspect you are about to embark on a tiresome subject we have already exhausted. Let us dispense with it now, so that we may enjoy the festivities. You are married. And even if you were not, I would not transport you back into that dangerous viper’s nest.” His unexpected offensive left her speechless.

His face softened as he surveyed her from his great height. “Jibril would have my head, Mia. Your son extracted a promise from me that I would not allow you back into danger,” he added softly.

Mia’s heart thrilled at the sound of her son’s name—it had been so long since she’d spoken to anyone who even knew of his existence.

A small voice inside her insisted the baron’s words were sensible, that Jibril, although young, was a well-respected leader of men who would not appreciate his mother’s interference.

Mia suppressed the voice with all the ruthlessness she could not use on the man across from her. Her son was a boy who didn’t know what was right for her, or himself, for that matter.

“What have you heard from him?” she asked.

“Very little, but enough to know he is realizing the futility of gaining control of his father’s shrinking empire. Assad is beheading the family of anyone who shows the slightest inclination to support Jibril and that has had a cooling effect on his cause. I told him in my last message I would not throw good money after bad. I counseled him to come back to England. The Duke of Carlisle is a man of influence, Mia; he will take care of his grandson.”

“As he has taken care of me?” she hissed, her resolve to deal sweetly with the towering baron dissolving at his arrogant words.

Ramsay’s blond brows arched.

Mia scowled up at him. “You know Jibril can have no life here—I have no life here. I hate England.” She fought to keep her voice down. “I wish with all my being I had never agreed to Jibril’s demands and returned to this vile country.” She swept the room with a hate-filled glare. “They will never accept me, Ramsay, and I was born here. How can you think they would accept my half-caste son?”

“You appear to have done well enough.”

Mia followed Ramsay’s gaze to her new husband. Even at his own wedding there was a gulf of empty space surrounding Exley, as though he were a lone British ship in enemy waters.

The aloof lord had invited no one to the ceremony save Viscount Danforth, who’d served as his only male attendant. Danforth was speaking to one of Mia’s many cousins, so Exley was alone. He was watching Mia and Ramsay bicker. He met her eyes and cocked one brow, his lips curving into an amused, superior smile. The smile that made her want to do something shocking and wipe it from his face.

Mia groaned at the lustful thought and looked away from her husband’s probing gaze. She stared up at the handsome giant beside her instead. “If I had a stick right now I would beat you with it.”

Ramsay’s booming laugh shook the very foundation of the house. Unlike his rich laughter, however, his eye was as hard as a faceted jewel. “Even such a dire threat as that will not make me change my mind.”

Mia was too choked by frustration and rage to respond.

“You do Jibril a discourtesy by keeping his existence a secret. Your son is not so weak a man that scandal and gossip would overwhelm him.” The baron gave a dismissive flick of his three-fingered hand. “He must forget his father’s dying empire. The days of growing rich off slavery and piracy are at an end. Now that you are married and established, you could help him.” His eye became shrewd and assessing. “Anyone who can navigate the shark-infested waters of the sultan’s household—and flourish—would be a force to be reckoned with among the ton.”

Mia flushed at his unexpected praise.

His next words were not so flattering. “You are a fool if you haven’t told Exley about the existence of Jibril and your desire to return to Oran. I agreed to keep the matter from the duke because I saw no point in making your homecoming any more difficult than it needed to be—especially since Jibril refused to do the wise thing and accompany you. However, I do not feel as sanguine hiding the truth from Exley. The man is your husband and it would behoove you to treat him with some respect and disclose your secret. If he were to ask me about you, I would feel compelled to tell the truth.”

“It is not your secret to disclose,” Mia hissed between clenched teeth.

Ramsay heaved an irritated sigh. “Do you imagine Exley will allow his wife to jaunter off into corsair-infested waters, Mia? The man is no fool and is possessed of a notoriously dangerous temper.”

“Exley?” Mia looked at the unsmiling man across the room and gave an unladylike snort. “He is colder than a snake. I doubt you could rouse his temper—even if you could find it.”

“I couldn’t, but I’ll wager you could, Mia.”

Mia answered with a bitter laugh.

“Exley is not the sort to sit by and do nothing while you engage in intrigues. I’ve seen him shoot and fence, and I assure you, my lady, he is devilishly skilled at both. He has killed more than one man who has dared to make sport of him.” Mia started at his words but Ramsay wasn’t finished lecturing yet. “I should not try to deceive him were I you, madam.” He paused, as if he wanted to say more on the subject, but then seemed to change his mind. “In any case, neither you nor Jibril will get my assistance retaking the sultan’s crumbling empire. Nor will I transport you back into the middle of a desert war. Jibril is a man and must settle his own problems without his mother clucking over him like an overprotective hen. Your time would be better spent straightening out your affairs here.”

Mia heard the steel beneath his words and bit back a scream. What did Ramsay know of her life? Who was he to say what was best for her or Jibril? Her head fairly jangled with rage but she took a deep breath and suppressed it. She needed the privateer. Right now he was her only connection to her son. It would be unwise to alienate him any further than necessary, no matter how unsympathetic he might appear to her cause.

She looked up and smiled. “I daresay you are correct. Let us not argue, my lord.”