Nicole Jordan (26 page)

He came to a halt before them, neither bowing nor greeting them.

Tension hung heavy in the air as the two men regarded each other—combatants sizing up their foe.

Raven took a deep breath and hastened to make the introductions. “Your grace, may I present my husband, Mr. Kell Lasseter. Kell, this is Charles Shawcross, Duke of Halford.”

“Your grace,” Kell said tersely. “To what do we owe the honor of this visit?” His slight emphasis on the word “honor” suggested it was no such thing.

Halford returned a stiff smile. “It seems that I owe you an apology, Mr. Lasseter. Regrettably I have made some unfounded accusations against your establishment, impugning your honesty and your reputation. To my shame, my motives were hardly pure. I confess I was insanely jealous after you won my bride from under my very nose. But I sincerely hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me.”

When Kell’s dark eyes narrowed, Halford turned to glance at Raven. “There, is that adequate, my dear?”

His generous apology was more than she had even hoped for. She might have kissed his hand again, but knew he wouldn’t appreciate such a public display. Nor did she wish to give rise to further gossip.

Instead her lips curved in a brilliant smile. “Thank you, Charles,” she said softly. “I think you must be the kindest man I have ever known.”

Halford’s cheeks took on a slight flush as he returned his attention to Kell. “And you are a fortunate man, Lasseter. I trust you will take good care of her.”

Raven felt Kell’s sharp gaze sweep her before he replied, “I intend to, your grace.”

Glancing around, the duke eyed the hazard table with curiosity. “I am not much of a gambler, but I am willing to attempt it, if I could prevail upon you for some instruction.”

With a single glance, Kell summoned his hostess, who had been watching the exchange along with everyone else in the room. “This is Miss Emma Walsh, your grace. She will assist you in every way possible. And whatever gaming you do will be on the house. If you will excuse me, I should like to have a word with my wife.”

If Halford was put out by being relegated to an underling, he didn’t show it. His bow was all politeness as he acknowledged the beautiful hostess. “I am honored, Miss Walsh.”

Emma returned a pleasant smile. “I would be delighted to show you how hazard is played, your grace, if you will come this way….”

Raven was left alone with Kell and his simmering anger. She nearly flinched as she met his dangerous gaze.

“And just what did you promise your duke in exchange for his apology, dear wife?” he asked in a silken tone.

She stiffened at his insinuation. “I promised him nothing. I simply told him the truth about our marriage, that it wasn’t a love match, and that you were a perfect stranger who saved me not only from your brother, but from the wretched fate of becoming an outcast. It so happens that Halford has a generous nature—more generous than I even hoped. I merely asked him to make a public appearance here, to help refute the rumors that he himself started, but he added the rest.” Her own gaze narrowed. “And you might show him the smallest measure of gratitude. Your club should be safe now.”

She turned on her heel then and walked away, leaving Kell to fume alone.

He didn’twant to show any gratitude toward the duke. It infuriated him to be obliged to anyone, particularly to a man of Halford’s elevated rank. It infuriated him more that a nobleman could wield such power over his life, rousing his dormant sense of inferiority and impotence.

As for his meddling wife…she’d brazenly disregarded his wishes. Kell’s gaze settled upon Raven as she stood with her duke at the hazard table.

Her duke.

His rival.

Kell clenched his fists, jealousy an unexpectedly fierce emotion inside him. As much as he despised admitting it, the sight of them so close together fired every possessive male instinct in his blood—and stirred unwanted images in his mind as well of Raven surrendering to her lover.

It made his blood boil to think of his aristocratic rival touching his wife, enjoying her lovely body, caressing her full, ripe breasts, her long, slender legs. Hell and damnation,he wanted to be the one suckling her rose-hued nipples, stroking her creamy ivory skin, so velvet smooth beneath his hands….

The very thought made his loins ache.

Cursing again, Kell turned away. He had to get hold of himself before he became no better than his brother, filled with lust and insane jealousy, ready to do battle for the tempting Raven Kendrick.

As she absently watched the gaming, Raven was highly aware of her husband’s brooding gaze surveying the crowd. Kell stood to one side, seeming alone even in a room full of people. A breed apart. A rebel.

His smoldering intensity only added to his appearance of isolation, as did the scar that marred the chiseled perfection of his face.

It was no wonder he was considered an outcast, she thought, remembering his almost grudging acceptance of the duke’s apology. Polite society didn’t take kindly to a man who showed so little deference to their rules, and Kell seemed to relish his defiant, black-sheep image.

Raven found it impossible to keep her glance from him. He was remote, enigmatic, notorious. And she was more drawn to him than any man she had ever known.

Was it because at heart, she was something of a black sheep herself? Because she understood what it meant to be alone? Or was it because Kell didn’t want her? Because he was eminently capable of resisting her charms? Or perhaps it was the lure of forbidden danger that she found so potent.

From their first moment together, she’d felt that perilous pull to danger, the breathless thrill of walking a cliff edge. A primal threat that only stirred the restlessness inside her…

Raven shivered. How could she be so enticed by a man who made her feel this vulnerable? So fiercely attracted to one who didn’t need or want her?

Casting another glance at Kell, she suddenly stiffened. Emma Walsh had joined him as he stood on the sidelines. Seeing them with their heads close together aroused a hot sting of jealousy within Raven.

She scarcely noticed when Dare came up to her.

He followed her narrowed gaze for a moment, then said in an amused drawl, “If I were Miss Walsh, I would take great care. You look as if you want to scratch her eyes out.”

Pressing her lips together, Raven dragged her thoughts away from her irksome husband and his beautiful mistress and focused her attention on the marquess. “Have you just now arrived?”

“Yes. I had a prior engagement. A pity,” Dare remarked. “I hear I missed all the excitement. Word has already flown around town about Halford’s public apology. I suppose you orchestrated it?”

“I only asked him to make an appearance here. Halford did the rest.”

“I should have thought your husband would be more pleased.”

“Not Kell,” Raven muttered. “He considers the duke’s gesture charity.”

“Well, a man has his pride. But even so, Lasseter should be grateful to you.”

“He wants nothing to do with me.”

At her morose tone, Dare gave her an assessing look. “And it disturbs you that your husband’s amorous interests lie elsewhere?”

Raven averted her gaze from Dare’s knowing one. “I shouldn’t allow myself to be disturbed, I know. Ours was merely a marriage of convenience. He has every right to keep a mistress, or an entire harem, if he wishes.”

“You could change the situation, puss. I have no doubt you could have Lasseter fawning at your feet if you chose to.”

The image was an appealing one, Raven admitted to herself. She cast Kell another glance. He was watching her intently now, with those dark eyes that could hold her spellbound. Yet there was a decided coolness to his features, even disapproval, Raven noted. Perhaps he didn’t like her associating with the Marquess of Wolverton any more than she liked her husband dallying openly with his mistress.

Forcing her gaze away, she gave Dare a deliberate smile. “I suppose I should apply to you for advice. No doubt the Prince of Pleasure could instruct me on how to keep a philandering husband from straying.”

He laughed. “You don’t need instruction on how to secure a man’s attention. You had half the males in London swooning over you last Season.”

“I’m not sure how I managed that.”

“I can tell you how. Because you were so refreshing. With your frankness and your high spirits, you were unlike every other debutante in existence. A tart lemon ice to their blancmange.”

Raven made a face. “How gratifying to be compared to a vanilla pudding, Dare. And to think I tried so hard to conform.”

“You succeeded admirably, but you still stood out in the crowd.” Dare hesitated. “If you’re serious about keeping your husband from straying, a little effort at seduction would not go amiss.” He glanced toward the hazard table. “Perhaps I should see how Halford is getting along.”

He left her then to stew over his advice.

Raven frowned thoughtfully as she eyed her husband. Did she wish to keep Kell from straying? Did she want to risk a mortifying rebuff?

It would be undeniably brazen to try to seduce him. While her upbringing had been unconventional, she possessed enough ladylike sensibilities to hesitate at such flagrant boldness. And yet she was immeasurably weary of conforming to society’s rigid rules.

Furthermore, she was not the unsoiled virgin with a spotless reputation to protect that she’d been a few short weeks ago. In that sense, the scandal had been liberating. She had much more freedom now from the stifling strictures of the ton, the trivialities of London drawing rooms, the vapidness, the pretense. If she wanted to seduce her notorious husband, she could do so without feeling shame or guilt.

And she had to confess she was tempted. So tempted.

She was also dismayingly, idiotically jealous, Raven realized when she saw Kell laugh at something Emma said.

The intimacy of the gesture sent rebellion flaring inside Raven. Involuntarily her hands curled into fists, and she moved forward, unable to stop herself. She found herself standing before Kell, demanding an interview of a man for the second time that evening. But this time there was fire in her heart.

“Might I have a word with you,dear husband ?” she said through gritted teeth.

Kell raised an eyebrow, while Emma’s smile of greeting faded.

The hostess looked from Raven to Kell, who gave a brief nod.

The moment Emma was out of earshot, Raven launched her impulsive tirade. “Publicly flaunting your mistress is hardly the way to avoid scandal.”

He regarded her levelly, not remarking on the unfairness of her attack. “I had no idea you cared about my mistresses.”

“I don’t, except when you make such an obvious display of your affections.”

“If you are so concerned about appearances, perhaps we should continue this argument in a less public forum.”

“Very well,” Raven replied tightly, realizing they were once again the focus of all eyes. “Where do you suggest?”

He gave her a curt, mocking bow. “I will meet you shortly upstairs in my apartments. I believe you know the way.”

Chapter

Fourteen

She waited for him in his private study rather than the intimacy of his bedchamber. The fire had died down to embers, so she added more coal and stood at the hearth, warming her hands and wondering what madness had overcome her.

Did she really want to make an issue of Kell’s mistresses? Did she want to acknowledge her jealousy, even to herself?

At least she didn’t have long to wait. Only moments later Raven heard the study door shut softly. She whirled to find Kell leaning indolently against the door-jamb, watching her with narrowed eyes.

“I suppose you mean to explain your tantrum just now,dear wife, ” he said finally, his tone cool.

Raven swallowed, regretting her earlier outburst. She hadn’t meant to make her possessiveness so obvious. “It was hardly a tantrum. It was more along the lines of a complaint.”

“And just what do you have to complain about?”

“Your indiscretion,” she prevaricated. “It is mortifying to have to watch your dalliance before a roomful of people.”

“If you had taken my advice and kept away, you wouldn’t have to watch my dalliance, as you put it.”

Pushing off from the door, Kell crossed the room toward her. Raven held her ground, but he only went to the hearth and bent to stir the fire.

“You were purposely flaunting your mistress directly under my nose,” she said tightly, “and I won’t stand for it.”

That drew a quick, challenging stare from him.

Raven flushed at his measuring appraisal, and she hurried on. “You agreed we would try to preserve the appearance of being in love. And publicly lusting after Miss Walsh is hardly the way to do it.”

“I trust,” Kell responded in a drawling voice, “you don’t expect me to live like a monk. I believe I mentioned that I’m not overly fond of celibacy.”

“No, but you might try to contain your passion for that woman and keep out of her bed.”

His eyebrow shot up. “Are you perhaps demanding fidelity from me, vixen? That was not part of our bargain, nor is it exactly fair. You have not been any kind of wife to me thus far.”

“And you have been no kind of husband!”

His gaze raked her. “If you don’t want me to seek my pleasure with Miss Walsh, perhaps you would care to take her place.”

Raven felt her heart skip a beat. “What exactly are you suggesting?”

“That you see to my pleasure yourself. You are perfectly capable of assuming the duties of a mistress, or at least fulfilling the carnal obligations required of a wife.”

Their gazes locked and held.

“So, love,” Kell murmured tauntingly, “are you willing to be a proper wife to me?”

Was she willing? Raven asked herself. She wanted Kell; there was no denying it. And she wanted to keep him from his beautiful hostess’s bed.

She stared back into his impenetrable eyes, the tension stretching like a taut cord between them.

“Very well,” she murmured.

“What did you say? I couldn’t hear you.”

“I said I was willing!”

He let his gaze slide down her. “You agree to satisfy my sexual needs?”