Nicole Jordan (23 page)

Emma started to speak again but was interrupted when a boy of perhaps ten entered the library, unsteadily carrying a tea tray. He was followed by the majordomo whom Raven had met before.

Under Timmons’s watchful regard, the boy carefully set the tray on the tea table, then looked up at the servant, seeking approval with a hint of fear in his eyes.

Raven could scarcely contain her dismay at the boy’s appearance. Even though he was clean and well-groomed, he was thin to the point of emaciation. Worse, his face and hands sported numerous bruises and open sores that looked suspiciously like burns.

“Thank you, Nate,” Emma said gently. “That was well done of you.”

“Oi, mum.” His coarse accent suggested his lower class origins.

When both the butler and boy had gone, Emma took up the teapot to pour, but she evidently saw Raven’s troubled frown and hastened to explain. “Nate was a climbing boy until last week. Kell discovered him in an alleyway being beaten by his master and forcibly purchased him.”

Raven winced at the image. Climbing boys were little more than slaves and so often ill-treated—by being prodded up chimneys with knives and flaming torches—that they sometimes died.

“I know.” Emma agreed with her unspoken thought. “A life of hell. But at least he has a future now. When his wounds heal, he will go to the foundling home that Kell supports.”

“Foundling home?”

“For orphaned boys.” Emma smiled. “Nate makes the thirteenth street urchin that Kell has rescued. A baker’s dozen. Kell feeds and clothes them, provides for their education, and sees they learn an occupation.”

“How admirable,” Raven murmured, thinking how few true good deeds she had rendered in her own life.

“Yes,” Emma replied. “I owe Kell a great deal myself. He saved me from a…a difficult situation with my former protector.”

And me as well, Raven thought. Kell had saved her from a life as an outcast. “He seems to make a habit of rescuing people.”

“Indeed,” Emma said softly. “He claims not to care, but he continues to protect the innocent and the abused.”

Hearing the note of tenderness in Emma’s voice, Raven couldn’t help but wonder if more than admiration was its cause. Not for the first time, it occurred to her that Emma could be Kell’s mistress. It was even possible she might be in love with him.

The thought sent an uncomfortable pang to the depths of Raven’s stomach. This woman knew her husband far more intimately than she herself ever was likely to. And she could well understand if he was attracted to the golden-haired woman in return. The hostess was older than Kell, perhaps nearing forty, but still incredibly beautiful.

Yet in spite of her instinctive jealousy, Raven found herself liking Emma and feeling ashamed of her ungrateful thoughts. Thus far Emma had proven a firm ally. Admittedly her cordiality surprised Raven. She would have thought a mistress wouldn’t relish having an unexpected wife for a rival. But then, perhaps Emma didn’t consider her a rival for Kell’s affections, since he wasn’t sharing her bed.

Raven was glad, however, when the talk turned to less serious matters, namely how a gaming hell was run. She was extremely curious about the notorious male world that had always been denied to her, and asked numerous questions, which Emma patiently answered.

Her fascination was piqued further after tea during her guided tour of the club, when she was shown the large, richly paneled gaming room where the hazard table stood. O’Malley had taught her how to shoot dice, but she knew the game of hazard involved far more than tossing bits of ivory. It was a complex betting game where players wagered on the combinations thrown.

The oval-shaped mahogany table was indented on either side—to provide a place for the croupier to stand, Raven presumed. The surface was covered with a fine green cloth marked with single and double yellow lines. Completing the table were chairs for the gamesters, boxes, bowls, and small hand rakes.

“What are these used for?” Raven asked, indicating the accessories.

“Those are dice boxes,” Emma explained. “The bowls are for holding counters—worth differing amounts of money—and the rakes are for drawing them in.”

“And one player casts the dice?”

“Yes. His initial throws establish what are called the main and the chance. How subsequent throws match those determines who wins and loses. The most successful players are able to calculate the odds of various casts. Shall I show you?”

Raven started to reply that she would enjoy a demonstration, but just then a masculine voice sounded from behind her.

“Would you care to explain what you’re doing in my gaming room?” her husband asked in a disapproving tone.

Her pulse quickening, Raven glanced over her shoulder to find Kell moving toward her. Awareness shivered down her spine as she met his unsettling gaze. The physical effect he had on her never failed to startle her. The mere sound of his voice stirred her senses, while her blood seemed to thicken at his nearness.

Disciplining her thoughts, however, she fished in her reticule and withdrew the dice she had brought with her, but kept them hidden in her closed fingers.

“I was just showing Raven around,” Emma answered for her.

“Thank you, but I will take over from here.”

For a moment Emma looked as if she might argue, but then she offered Raven a smile and took her leave.

“What are you doing here?” Kell repeated when the hostess had gone.

“I was curious,” Raven replied. “I have never seen a game of hazard played.”

“This is no place for a lady.”

Raven arched an eyebrow. “You sound remarkably like my aunt. Do you really mean to suggest my presence here offends your sense of propriety?”

Did it? Kell asked himself. It would be hypocritical to claim he didn’t want his wife at his gaming hell because it was improper. Some men, even rakes and libertines, became excessively conservative about their wives upon marriage, but it was absurd to be entertaining proprietary notions or feelings of possessiveness toward Raven. She wasn’t his wife in the true sense of the word—or even his woman.

Yet he didn’t want her here. His club was his one haven from her. Ever since Raven had begun sharing his house, he’d found it impossible to shed his awareness of her. He didn’t want her invading his sole refuge. Not that he intended to let her know how profoundly she affected him.

“Besides,” she was pointing out, “I understand from Emma that several ladies frequent your club.”

“Perhaps, but they don’t have a scandal hanging over their heads. Or they don’t give a fig about their reputations. And you haven’t answered my question. Why are you here?”

“Actually, I wished to speak to you. I wanted to thank you, for one thing. I am profoundly grateful that you sent Sean away.”

Kell nodded. “Very well, I’ll consider myself thanked. Now you can go.”

Raven made a face. “You can’t evict me without undermining our pretense of being happily married.”

Kell’s gaze narrowed. “I believe we had an agreement. If I escorted you to the Wycliffs’ ball, you pledged never to ask me for another favor, remember?”

“This has nothing to do with favors. This concerns the fate of your club.” She hesitated. “Have you heard what Halford has been saying about you?”

His lips thinned in a hard line. “I’ve heard,” he replied grimly.

“Well, we mustdo something. We have to try to stem those terrible rumors.”

“I doubt anything I could do would have an effect.”

“Lord Wolverton has offered to sponsor you in society. Dare believes that if you would only ingratiate yourself with the ton’s leaders, you might be able to weather Halford’s accusations.”

Kell shook his head. It rubbed painfully against the grain to accept help from anyone; most certainly he didn’t want to be beholden to Raven for her friends’ intervention. “I’m not about to accept charity from the Marquess of Wolverton.”

“It wouldn’t be charity in the least. He would be doing it for my sake. Besides, you are always aiding others. Emma told me about all the street urchins you’ve rescued. It is only fair that you be the recipient for a change.”

Kell grimaced. He didn’t like having his secrets probed any more than he liked having to deal with his beautiful wife’s nearness. “You are much too interested in my affairs,” he observed.

She didn’t respond to that charge but took another tack. “Kell…I can understand why you scorn society, but this is another matter altogether. Your club is in danger.”

“It isn’t your concern.”

“But it is.” Raven gave him an imploring look. “I am the reason your reputation is being maligned. I cannot simply meekly return home and forget the trouble you are in. I won’t stand idly by while you are ruined.”

“I’m not giving you a choice. I don’t need or want your help.”

Frustration shone in her blue eyes. “I don’t understand why you must be so stubborn!”

Kell steeled himself against his own frustration, wishing Raven would just go away and leave him in peace. Her very nearness was a temptation. Yet if he wanted her gone, he would have to drive her away. But how, other than physical threats…?

Assessing her, he responded to the devil prompting him. “There is only one thing I might want from you, vixen.”

She looked taken aback. “Oh? And what is that?”

“Perhaps you can guess.” He reached out to brush her breast through her gown, making her start in alarm. “Carnal relations. You can fulfill my carnal needs.”

Her sharp intake of breath was supremely satisfying.

“I see I have shocked you,” Kell murmured. “How entertaining to render you speechless.”

Raven ignored his baiting, however, and searched his face, her gaze both serious and wary. “Do you truly want relations between us?”

Kell felt his loins pulse at the prospect. Too clearly he remembered the tight, glorious fit of his hard flesh in the hot, wet softness of hers. “No,” he denied swiftly. “I’m perfectly satisfied with our mock marriage, with neither of us demanding or expecting anything from the other.”

“But will you at least consider taking Dare up on his offer? I know it wounds your pride to consider accepting help—”

“My pride is none of your concern.”

Her lips pressed together for a moment, but then she narrowed her eyes, the picture of determination. “Very well, then. I have a proposition for you.”

Kell gave her a measuring look. “Why would I be interested in any proposition of yours?”

“Because you are a gamester, and you can’t resist a wager. I will gamble with you for your agreement, Kell. A few throws of the dice. If I can roll seven or eleven three times in a row, you will allow Wolverton to help you.”

“And if not?”

“Then I will never bother you about the subject again. I will stand back and let your good name be ruined and your club destroyed with my blessing.”

Kell eyed her in speculation, wondering what she was up to.

“Are you afraid I might win?” Raven taunted, a bright challenge in her eyes.

He wanted to tell her to go to the devil, but curiosity got the better of him. He pushed the dice box toward her, then leaned indolently against the table, crossing his arms over his chest. “Go ahead then, roll.”

Shaking her head, she opened her fist, showing a pair of dice. With a smug look, she juggled them a time or two and tossed the bits of ivory on the table, rolling a combination of eleven.

When Kell raised an eyebrow, Raven smiled serenely.

The second throw was just as successful. A seven. She gathered the dice and started to throw again.

His hand reached out to close over hers, staying her. Prying open her fingers, Kell captured the dice, hefting them in his hand.

Understanding dawned, as did anger. “These are weighted,” he said harshly.

“I never claimed they weren’t,” Raven responded, her own tone dulcet. “You merely assumed I would use your dice.”

Kell took a step toward her, reaching up to wrap his fingers around her throat in a gentle vise. “I don’t tolerate cheating in my establishment.”

A fleeting smile wreathed her mouth. “I never doubted it for a moment. But we must make everyone else see that.”

Praying for patience, Kell shut his eyes. “I’ve been gulled like the veriest greenhorn, haven’t I?”

“I’m afraid so.” Pulling his fingers from her throat, Raven eased from his grasp. “But I cheated for a good cause.”

Seeing the mirth trembling on her lips, Kell choked back his own bark of laughter and cursed instead. “Where in hell did you get a pair of loaded dice? No, don’t tell me. O’Malley.”

“Yes. He taught me to play cards and shoot dice.”

“And pistols as well,” Kell said darkly, remembering.

“Well, yes. He contributed a great deal to my education.”

“Your education was damned peculiar for a young lady.”

“I won’t argue with you on that point. My mother would have been appalled had she known.”

She took the dice from him and threw again. Another seven. “I believe I just won,” she said, her tone unwisely triumphant.

But Kell wasn’t willing to let her escape so easily. Grasping her arm, he turned Raven to face him and, with his body, crowded her against the hazard table, bracing his arms on either side of her to prevent her escape.

“Do you know what I do to cheats?” he asked, his voice a silken menace.

“No, what?” she said breathlessly.

His gaze dropped to her mouth. He wanted to shake her. He wanted to kiss her and wipe that knowing gleam from her incredible blue eyes. “I throw them out on their ears.”

“Would you really be so cruel to me?”

At the laughter in her question, a dozen thoughts rushed through his mind; foremost was how badly he wanted her. It would be so simple to lift her onto the table and drive himself home between her parted thighs….

Without volition, he reached up to trail his knuckles along the delicate curve of Raven’s jaw. Instantly he heard her breath catch, saw her lips part in surprise at the heated tension that suddenly sizzled between them.

Riveted, Raven stared back at him. Kell’s unexpected caress had made her stomach muscles contract, made her nipples stiffen. The feel of his hard, powerful body pressing against her own aroused a yearning ache between her thighs….