Raven hadn’t said a word.
Heloise glanced down at herself, suddenly self-conscious. In the firelight the silk shimmered over the contours of her body like droplets of water on the petals of a rose.
Raven let out an unsteady breath, half laugh, half groan. “Christ, Hellcat. You’re killing me.” He eyed her approvingly. “Have I ever told you how much I appreciate your taste in undergarments?”
“Several times, I believe. You have my mother to thank.”
He raised his brows.
“She says one should always wear nice underwear because you never know when you might get run over by a carriage. I’d have thought if you’d been hit by a carriage you’d have more to worry about than whether your underwear was matching, but still.” Heloise ground to a halt, uncomfortably aware she was babbling.
“I love your mother.”
“She is French,” she said, as if that were sufficient explanation. Which, to a man like Raven, a connoisseur of the European female, it probably was.
His gaze roved over her, as intimate as a caress. “Come here,” he said.
The mattress dipped with her weight as she crawled up it toward him.
“Be gentle,” he teased.
She gave him an arch smile. “I promise not to torture you too much.”
And then he caught the back of her head and put his lips on hers.
It was a kiss like no other they’d shared. Heloise threw her arms around his neck and kissed him with all the ardor and enthusiasm in her heart. What started as a sweet exploration soon metamorphosed into an urgent mating of mouths. She couldn’t get enough of the taste of him, the wicked swirl of his tongue, the passionate press of his lips. She offered herself unashamedly, teasing him, thrusting deep then retreating in passionate surrender.
He pulled back, panting. “Vixen.”
Her hair had been arranged in an elaborate coil. Heloise sat back on her heels as he raised his free hand and gently pulled out a pin. A curl fell down against her neck. Another pin. Another. He worked slowly, methodically, until her hair fell down around her shoulders in a soft cloud. He threaded his fingers through it and combed it forward to cover her breasts. She shivered.
Heloise ran her palms over his shoulders, enjoying the reflexive leap of his muscles, luxuriating in the feel of him. She nibbled kisses on his collarbone, teethed the muscle on the side of his neck, and felt the racing pulse beneath his skin, heavy and erotic against her lips.
The metal cuff forced Raven’s right arm out at an awkward angle, but he used his left hand to stroke down her back and squeeze her bottom and she let out a groan of encouragement. She stroked his biceps, his pectorals, petting him like a giant house cat. Instinct told her that whatever had felt good to her surely felt good to him, too. He bared his teeth when she circled his flat male nipples with her fingers and when she flicked her tongue over them he hissed in a breath and curled up toward her.
The muscles of his stomach tensed one by one as she slid her hand downward and ran a finger from his navel to the top of his waistband.
She smiled against his skin.
Chapter 45
Raven swallowed, his throat tight with excitement.
He studied her face, so beautiful, her brow furrowed in concentration as she explored his body, as immersed in the sensations as if she were studying a new, mystifying code. He couldn’t ask for more.
She toyed with the waistband of his breeches, then brushed her hand over the hard shape of him. His hips bucked off the bed. She raised her eyes to his.
“Don’t stop there,” he rasped.
She popped open the buttons of his breeches and peeled back the flap. His cock sprang free and he raised his hips from the bed to help her as she drew down his breeches over his thighs and threw them to the floor. He lay naked in front of her, more vulnerable than he’d ever been in his life. It was terrifying, and exciting beyond measure. He reached up with his free hand and caught her nape.
“Touch me,” he ordered.
She obeyed. She closed her fingers around his shaft and the exquisite pressure made his eyes roll back in his head. He throbbed beneath her palm and groaned as she made a tentative slide, up and down. He arched up into her touch.
And then she leaned forward and took him in her mouth.
The sight of her lips closing around him had him bowing off the bed. Sweet heaven. Her untutored exploration was the most erotic thing he’d ever experienced in his life. Raven threaded his free hand through her hair and smoothed his thumb over the scar at her temple. She tensed, an almost imperceptible pause, then turned her face into his hand, accepting the caress. She glanced up at him with a wicked, sparkling look from beneath her lashes.
“You’re the expert,” she whispered. “Now what shall I do?”
He lost himself in her thunderstorm eyes. “Take me,” he whispered, breathing hard. “Do it, Hellcat. If you want me, take me now.”
She placed her hands on his shoulders and straddled him. Her skin was flushed, her lips parted, as he used his free hand to position himself at the entrance to her body. She lowered herself down and her wet heat closed over him, barely an inch.
“More.” He panted. He could hardly choke out the words, the sensation of her was so incredible. “All of me. Slowly. That’s it.”
He moved his hand to her hip to steady her, guide her, and watched her face as she bit her lip in concentration. She slid down farther, and he saw stars. His hips arched upward automatically and he captured her mouth with his own, kissing her hard, merging his soul with hers. He caught her gasp as he filled her with a deep, swift stroke that slid him fully home. He paused, afraid he’d hurt her, but she rose up and slid down on him again with a moan of delight.
Light filled him, seeping through his veins, banishing the darkness and leaving only glowing pleasure in its wake. His heart was beating as if he’d run a race. Need pounded through his bloodstream, roaring in his ears, demanding he take. And take and take. He wanted to roll her over and get on top, but the metal cuff prevented him. He concentrated on her instead. Her breasts on his chest, hard-tipped and perfect, her lips on his, her hands clutching his shoulders, her legs tight around his hips as he drove into her again with a guttural cry.
She threw her head back in abandon. Her long hair brushed his thighs. His mind went blank. She wiped his soul clean, burned him away until they were nothing but bodies, his and hers, hot and sliding, pumping deep. Nothing but the feel of her all around him, inside him, as he was inside her. She filled his heart, his soul. So deep there was no getting her out.
He heard her gasp in pleasure and began to quicken the rhythm of his strokes. She rocked her hips, drawing him deeper; he felt her inner muscles clutching him and her climax triggered his own. He surrendered to it, felt the pulse of him flowing into her, and he cried out, savage and triumphant, falling, dissolving, and being reborn.
Heloise collapsed onto him, panting and limp. She let out a shaky laugh then rolled onto the bed next to him.
Raven sat up, the handcuffs clinking against the wooden post. He’d lost all feeling in his right arm and had nearly pulled his shoulder out of its socket, but it had been worth it. He jiggled his arm. “Let me out of these. Please.”
Heloise laughed, slipped out of bed, and padded across the room to the desk. “Is this what you’re after?” she teased, holding up the key.
Raven eyed the slim perfection of her naked body, pale and sleek in the fire glow. “It’s exactly what I’m after,” he growled.
She came back to him and slid the key into the lock. The metal fell away and he rubbed his wrist. His fingers tingled with returning circulation and there were raw red marks on his skin, but he didn’t care. He’d never imagined he could give himself so completely to another person. But surrendering control to Heloise was a pleasure, not a punishment.
He gathered her into his arms, tucked her head beneath his chin, and drew the covers over them both. She let out a long, contented sigh.
> Chapter 46
“Come on, get up. We’re going.”
Heloise blinked at the pale gray light filtering in the window and stifled a groan.
Raven slid out of bed and she took a moment to appreciate the sight of him naked as he crossed the room. It was still barely dawn, but she could see broad shoulders, narrow hips, muscled thighs. She could have looked at him forever. She added an extra line to her list. “Make love to Raven in full daylight.” Her pulse quickened.
She bit back a sigh of disappointment as he shrugged into his breeches.
“Get dressed,” he urged impatiently. He tossed her dress at her and she caught it with a huff of indignation.
“Where are we going?”
“It’s a surprise.”
There was something extremely intimate about having a man help one dress, Heloise decided. Raven’s long fingers tied tapes and fastened buttons with deft speed and she smiled as he dropped playful kisses on the nape of her neck.
Then he caught her hand and led her out into the corridor, down the grand staircase, through the deserted ballroom, and to the hall. Heloise gave a choked sound of protest as he opened the front door and pulled her outside, but he simply tugged on her hand and stalked across the dew-wet grass.
Her silk ball slippers became instantly soaked but Heloise laughed aloud at the mad, thrilling chase. She followed him across the gardens, skirts blowing, out of breath, heart singing with joy. “What are you doing, you madman?” she panted.
He guided her down the steps cut into the cliff and Heloise followed him up the gangplank of the ship with a smile. “I can’t help noticing that you’ve kidnapped me again, William Ravenwood,” she scolded.
“This is the last time, I swear. Come here.”
Raven drew her over to the rail and positioned himself behind her, looking out to sea. He pulled her back against his chest.
Heloise caught her breath as the sun broke free of the horizon in a blaze of peach and gold. Raven rested his chin on the top of her head and pointed into the distance. “Africa’s over there. Egypt. The Nile. Cairo and Alexandria and all those dusty tombs and ghastly pyramids you seem to be so in love with.”
“I know that.”
“Do you want to go?”
Heloise tilted her head so she could look at him, her pulse beating hard in her throat. “To Egypt? With you?”
He frowned. “Of course with me. Who else?”
She hid a smile at his exasperation, even as her heart swelled. She furrowed her brow and feigned indecision. “I don’t know. You’ll probably try to sell me to a band of pirates or swap me for a herd of camels and a nice Heriz rug…”
“Do you want to go?” he repeated, his tone subtly threatening.
A gust of wind caught the sails behind them. The impatient snap of sailcloth and rattle of brass fittings were a siren’s call, impossible to resist. Her stomach fluttered in anticipation.
“I might get seasick.”
“I’ve had a whole crate of pink gin put in the cabin already.”
“I hear it’s terribly hot.”
She could swear he was grinding his teeth.
“I’ll buy you a hat. And a fan.”
She adopted her most prim and proper expression. “Just think of the scandal.”
“I don’t give a damn about the scandal, and neither do you.”
“That’s because you have no reputation to lose,” she admonished sternly.
“The way I see it, you have two options. I can either kill you…”
“Or—?” she prompted.
“Or you can marry me.”
His offhand declaration was hardly the gushing proposal she’d dreamed of as a girl, but she could feel his tension in the tightness of his muscled forearms around her. He honestly thought she might refuse him. He was such an idiot.
She tossed her head. He deserved to suffer just a little bit. “Death it is, then. I’m sure you can make it quick and painless.”
He glanced at her and away. “Marriage to me would be neither quick nor painless, you know.” A muscle ticked in his jaw. “I can’t promise not to hurt you. In fact, I’m sure I will. I won’t mean to, but it’s inevitable. And you’ll hurt me.” He sighed. “But that’s what bloody love is, isn’t it? It’s giving someone the power to hurt you and trusting in your heart that they won’t.”
Heloise studied the profile of his half-turned face. The molten glow of sunrise touched his hair and illuminated the fine grain of his jaw and her heart swelled with love for such an impossible, wonderful man.
“Well?” he said gruffly. “Is it yes or no?”
She waited until he finally plucked up the courage to look at her. “That would depend.”
“On what?”
“On whether you love me.” Her voice trembled as she gazed up at him. “Because I’ve loved you for so long I couldn’t bear it if you didn’t love me back.”
He closed his eyes and she couldn’t tell if it was exasperation or relief.
“Do I love you?” he growled. “Of course I bloody love you! I love you when you drive me insane and when you tease and when you’re brave and when you cry. I even loved you when you ate that stupid carob and when you nearly got me killed.” He turned her in his arms, caught her chin, and stared deeply into her eyes. “I want your light. Your goodness. Your warmth. I want everything that you are. I will love you until the day I die, and probably long after that. Only an idiot would even have to ask.”
“I’m not an idiot,” she said.
“So you’ll marry me.” He made it a statement, not a question.
Heloise sighed, as if it were an enormous imposition. “Well, if I must. But only to avert a scandal. And because I want to get my hands on your enormously impressive…library.”
All the tension drained out of him and his eyes took on a teasing glint. “Of course. What woman could resist something so monumental?”
Heloise was laughing as he lowered his lips to hers.
When they finally pulled apart Raven chuckled. “You’re doing my home a grave disservice, you know. Ravenwood has plenty of other rooms, in addition to the impressive library.”
“How many?”
“Seventy-eight, give or take a closet or two.” He nuzzled her neck. “I’m going to make love to you in every one of them.”
She smiled against his shoulder. “That’s an awful lot.”
“It is. We’ll start as soon as we get back from Egypt. If we can manage two per day we should be finished by March next year.”
“You are a rogue and a scoundrel.”
“Yes,” he said unrepentantly. “But I’m yours.”
Epilogue
EGYPT, SIX WEEKS LATER
“Time for a break, Lady Ravenwood.”
Heloise sighed as her husband of exactly three weeks came up behind her and nuzzled her neck.
“Five more minutes,” she murmured, blowing sand from a hieroglyphic fragment. “I really think I’m—”
Her protest was cut off as he slipped his hand into the front of her loose bodice. She gave a yelp of surprise then softened against him as a sweep of languid heat suffused her.
He smiled against her nape. “Have I told you how much I approve of these loose-fitting clothes? They allow such wonderful access.”
He spun her around, lowered his head, and kissed the top curve of her breast. They both groaned in pleasure. Heloise attempted a token protest as he lifted her up to sit on the sun-warmed block of granite and settled himself between her thighs. She leaned back as he tugged the linen shirt from the waistband of her harem trousers and ran his hands up her ribs.
“Raven, we can’t! Anyone one might come along!”
He dropped a leisurely kiss on her collarbone. “I’ve sent all the servants back to the ship.”
“Someone else might come!”
“I don’t care. You can blame these trousers you’re wearing. They’re worse than breeches. While you’ve been scrambling around, I’ve been fo
rced to watch your bottom wriggling about in a most provocative manner.”
Heloise let her head fall back. The past few weeks had been a revelation. He’d taught her so much. About her body, and pleasure. And love.
They’d left straight after their hastily planned wedding and in the past week alone Heloise had crossed off every remaining item on her original list. Raven had taken advantage of a deserted beach on one of the Greek islands to take her swimming in the ocean at midnight. Naked. It had been the most extraordinary, wickedly liberating sensation imaginable. And when her list had been exhausted, her outrageous husband had formulated an entirely new, decidedly more scandalous, one. He was coming up with new additions daily.
Egypt had been everything she’d imagined, and more. She’d seen Bedouins and Tuaregs, snake charmers and souks, spices and dates. She’d held her nose at the stink of the tanneries, covered her ears against the din of metalworkers hammering brassware in the streets, and punched Raven in the kidneys for pretending to exchange her for a nice Heriz rug.
Even the wonderful illustrations in the Description de l’Égypte hadn’t done justice to the still-bright colors of wall paintings and temples over two thousand years old. Heloise was in love with everything, even the reluctant camels—which were more woolly, like a lamb, than hairy like a horse—and were always grumbling and sneezing and spitting. The flies were a constant nuisance, the sand scoured her face, and the midday sun was unbearably hot, but she wouldn’t have changed it for the world. The discomfort was more than a fair exchange for freedom.
“You know we’re going to have to go home eventually, don’t you?” she murmured.
Raven paused in the act of pushing down her bodice. “Yes. But not just yet.”
“That sounds as if you have a plan.”
His grin made her stomach somersault, as usual, and she wondered if she’d ever grow immune to his charm. She hoped not.
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