Ecstasy n-4

by Nicole Jordan

  Lasseter interrupted, addressing Raven. “It would be better for you to write from Richmond. The longer you remain here, the harder it will be to support the pretense that we were wed last evening. As it is, we can say that we only stopped here to inform your family of our union.”

  “Yes,” Raven agreed, seeing the wisdom of his suggestion. “We should be on our way.”

  “Is such unseemly haste really necessary?” Lady Dalrymple protested-simply, her niece suspected, because she disliked someone else being in charge. “Raven should at least be allowed to change her gown for something more suitable.”

  “No, Aunt Catherine, Mr. Kendrick is right. My attire isn’t overly important. But I will eventually need access to my belongings. My trunks were packed for my remove to Halford House. Were they delivered there yet?”

  “Not yet. With all the chaos yesterday-”

  “Her trunks can be retrieved once we decide on living arrangements,” Lasseter said with an edge of impatience.

  “But a valise was prepared for her wedding trip,” her ladyship insisted. “She should be permitted to take it with her. She cannot go about town looking like a ragamuffin.” The suggestion was accompanied by a derisive look at Raven’s ill-fitting skirts.

  “Perhaps that would be wise,” Raven agreed, remembering that the valise would contain a nightdress among other garments.

  “Very well,” he acceded.

  Rising, Lady Dalrymple rang for Broady and instructed the grave-faced butler to have Miss Kendrick’s valise loaded at once onto Mr. Lasseter’s carriage.

  After that, there seemed to be little more to be said except for farewell. Raven, however, couldn’t help but contrast her leavetaking now with the previous day’s. Yesterday she had been about to marry an illustrious duke; today she would wed a notorious gamester who was suspected of murder…

  Her relatives’ qualms were almost as great as her own, it seemed. Her aunt remained icily polite, while her grandfather was actually distraught. Lord Luttrell took her hands in his own trembling ones and squeezed her fingers hard.

  “If you ever find yourself in need, my dear…I hope you know you can count on me.”

  A sudden ache of emotion tightened her throat: surprise, gratitude, affection. She was amazed and relieved that her grandfather didn’t mean to treat her in the scurrilous way he had her mother. Her voice sounded raspy when she murmured her thanks.

  Her grandfather then turned to Lasseter with a fierce stare. “If you harm her in any way, I warn you, sir, you will answer to me.”

  “Grandfather-” Raven objected, feeling the injustice of the remark, but Lasseter offered the elderly nobleman a cool smile.

  “I intend to save her, Lord Luttrell, not harm her. You will have to be satisfied with that.”

  Raven intended to apologize for her grandfather’s animosity once they were out of earshot, but Michael O’Malley was waiting for her directly outside the salon door, pacing the hall.

  The groom’s expression held despair and remorse and more than a little concern.

  “Oh, Miss Raven, I feared…Sure and I had to see for myself that you were all right,” he said in his Irish lilt.

  “I’m fine, O’Malley, truly.”

  Beside her, she felt Lasseter stiffen at the name. He eyed the groom sharply but didn’t comment.

  “Who was the bastard responsible?” O’Malley demanded. “That scurvy case Lasseter, was it?”

  “Yes,” Raven murmured, “but please keep your voice down. I don’t want it advertised. In fact, I intend to try to put it behind me.” She hesitated. “This is his brother, Mr. Kell Lasseter. He has agreed to wed me, O’Malley.”

  “Wed?” The elderly groom looked shocked for a moment, before his gaze narrowed in piercing scrutiny. “Saints preserve us.”

  The two men regarded each other with almost dislike while Raven quietly explained the need for her unexpected union.

  “I ken you’ve no choice, Miss Raven,” O’Malley finally said with reluctance, “but I mean to accompany you. I’ll not let you out of my sight again.”

  She looked to Lasseter, whose expression was grim. “Please?” she asked. “May he come with me?”

  To her surprise and gratitude, Lasseter nodded. “He can act as a witness for the ceremony. And no doubt you will want someone nearby to protect you in case my abusive tendencies get out of hand.”

  It was said with irony, but Raven chose not to press the issue. Instead she had a footman retrieve a cane for Kell to use and then led the way outside, where her valise was being loaded in the boot of the waiting coach. When the task was finished, O’Malley climbed up to join the coachman while Lasseter handed Raven inside and then settled beside her.

  Soon they were off, but they had gone barely half a block before Lasseter spoke.

  “Your groom is Irish.” It was not a question.

  “Yes. He was in service to the Kendrick family when my parents wed, and he decided to accompany them to the Caribbean. Actually O’Malley has been like a father to me. He practically raised me.”

  “He’s the one who taught you to shoot.”

  “Yes…that among other things.”

  Lasseter’s mouth curled at her admission. “I wonder that you allow him to serve you in such an intimate capacity. Your relatives obviously scorn anything Irish.”

  “I am not my relatives,” Raven assured him in a stern voice.

  She couldn’t tell from Lasseter’s enigmatic expression what he felt about that, but she was inclined to think her groom’s being Irish was the only reason he’d granted her request to have the servant go with her. She’d seen Kell Lasseter’s anger when her grandfather had derided his bloodlines. In fact, she’d caught the slightest glimmer of hurt mixed with the fury in his dark eyes, the slightest vulnerability. His Irish blood was unquestionably a sensitive matter with him.

  “Is Kell an Irish name?” she asked curiously.

  “It’s Gaelic. Short for Kellach. It means something like ‘strife.’ ”

  She repressed a smile but couldn’t resist replying, “Rather fitting, I should think.”

  The responsive flicker in his dark eyes might have been amusement, but the glance he gave her was unreadable. “Kell is actually my middle name, the one my mother gave me. Sean chose to use his Irish name as well.”

  Any humor Raven felt disappeared abruptly at the mention of his brother, while her misgivings returned full force as a wretched thought occurred to her. Sean Lasseter would shortly become her brother-in-law.

  Frowning, she hesitantly broached her concern. “After tonight your brother and I will be related by marriage. But I…it will be difficult for me to treat him with civility. I would prefer to have nothing to do with him.”

  “I see no reason why you should have to deal with him,” Kell responded without inflection.

  “But he may not consider his vengeance complete. I might even need protection from him.”

  She saw Kell’s jaw harden momentarily before he spoke. “I will see to it that he doesn’t abuse you again.”

  Deciding to be content with his assurance, Raven lapsed into silence for the rest of the journey.

  At length the coach turned off the main road and onto a smooth gravel drive. The well-kept grounds were landscaped with lush foliage that offered occasional glimpses of the Thames River. And when they drew to a halt, Raven found herself impressed. The house seemed more a mansion than a country cottage, large and elegant and built of mellow red brick.

  “Is this your home?” she asked Kell. “Or do you use it primarily for diversions?”

  “Diversions?”

  “I’m aware that gentlemen often have pleasure houses for the purpose of keeping a mistress.”

  He glanced at her for a long moment, but his reply was less forthcoming than Raven could have wished. “This is indeed a pleasure house, but it is unoccupied at the moment.”

  “Because you already have Emma Walsh? Is she your mistress?”

  One da
rk brow lifted sardonically. “I offered to wed you, Miss Kendrick. Not to divulge the details of my personal life.”

  Raven found herself flushing. “I simply wanted to know the circumstances of our relationship so I would not be caught off guard.”

  “I believe we agreed to live separate lives. Are you acting the managing wife before we are even wed?”

  “No, of course not!” Raven retorted, stung by the accusation.

  Thankfully O’Malley came around just then to hand her down from the carriage. But it was Kell who escorted her up the front steps. As he ushered her inside the house, his touch on the small of her back sent a sensual shock rippling down her spine. Raven was glad he was eager for them to live apart. Enduring such close proximity with Kell Lasseter day after day would be unnerving in the extreme.

  The interior of the house was just as elegant as the environs, not at all the sort of residence she would think of as belonging to a gamester…or to a gamester’s mistress.

  They were met by a butler and housekeeper, who were apparently a couple. If the Goodhopes were startled by their master’s announcement of his impending marriage, they were too well disciplined to show it. Kell ordered Miss Kendrick’s valise unloaded and a bedchamber prepared for her, but he waited until the servants had left to execute their respective tasks before he spoke again.

  “It may take me the better part of the day to arrange for a special license at Doctor’s Commons and to engage a clergyman. While I’m away, you can make use of the drawing room”-he pointed toward a door off the entrance hall-“or perhaps you would prefer to rest.”

  Raven shook her head. She’d had little genuine sleep the previous night, but at the moment she had more pressing matters on her mind than rest. “I should write Halford as soon as possible.”

  He nodded. “I will have one of my grooms deliver your letter.”

  “If it is all the same to you, I would rather send O’Malley. I don’t care to trust such an important commission to a stranger. His grace is not likely to take the news well, and it would be better if only O’Malley were there to witness his reaction.”

  “I suppose so.” Kell made a scoffing sound deep in his throat. “Halford is as pompous and stiff-necked as they come. I can’t imagine how you ever came to be betrothed to him in the first place. He hardly seems to be your type-Never mind,” Kell said curtly. “I can imagine. Doubtless you were enamored of his title.”

  Raven felt herself wince. He wouldn’t understand her determination to make a magnificent match, or her distress at having those plans shattered. “I don’t deny,” she admitted, “that his title was one of his strongest suits.”

  She saw Kell’s mouth harden with something like contempt, but then he shrugged. “Do whatever you like. But you may consider the staff at your disposal. It isn’t large, but Mrs. Goodhope can send a maid to attend you later.”

  “I can make do without a lady’s maid.”

  He looked skeptical.

  “Truly, I managed to dress myself for years,” Raven said. “Servants were a luxury when I was growing up. Not until I came to England did I have anyone to wait on me.”

  Kell’s dark brows drew together as if she’d surprised him once again, but he made no comment. “Very well, then. I will see you this evening.”

  He started to turn away, but Raven stopped him. “Mr. Lasseter…Kell…I am grateful for your…sacrifice. I know this is not what you planned for your future.”

  His mouth curled in a cynical half smile that was not unattractive. “I can only conclude my innate chivalry overcame my good sense.”

  “Even so, I should like to thank you.”

  “You can thank me once your reputation is safe.” He hesitated before giving her a pointed glance. “You realize, of course, that we will have to consummate our union. Unless you want there to be a question about the legitimacy of our marriage.”

  Raven’s breath suddenly escaped her. She hadn’t thought that far ahead. “I…suppose you are right.”

  His smile was humorless. “Are you certain you don’t wish to withdraw now, Miss Kendrick? The prospect of sharing my bed doesn’t intimidate you?”

  She gazed up at him, at his strong, chiseled features. She was indeed intimidated. The scar slashing across one high cheekbone marred his masculine beauty and suggested he was capable of violence, while those midnight eyes were heart-stoppingly intense. His mere glance made her quiver inside-as did the thought of making love to him.

  “It need only be once, isn’t that so?” she murmured finally.

  “Yes, it need only be once.” The edge of determination in his voice implied that he didn’t relish the obligation any more than she did. “Until tonight then.”

  With a brief bow, he left her standing there staring after him.

  Alone, Raven bit her lower lip, wondering if she was making a terrible mistake by allying herself so intimately with a perfect stranger. Especially one so compelling as Lasseter. He was dark, dangerous, and handsome as sin, with a damn-your-eyes attitude that was inexplicably appealing-the precise opposite of the husband she wanted. Despite her every instinct of self-preservation and common sense, she was attracted to him against her will. The heat and vitality that throbbed from him set her every nerve ending on edge. And the thought of the night to come…

  If her sensual memories of last night were anything to judge by, Kell Lasseter would make an exceptional lover.

  Shutting her eyes, Raven made a sound of distress deep in her throat. She didn’t want an exceptional lover. She didn’t need a real lover when she had her pirate. For tonight, however, there was no hope for it. She would have to become Lasseter’s wife in truth.

  She took a deep breath to steady herself. Surely she could manage to resist his dangerous appeal for one night.

  Determinedly attempting to dismiss her chaotic thoughts, Raven made her way to the drawing room to compose what was certain to be a difficult letter to her former betrothed.

  It took over an hour, as well as a half dozen drafts before Raven was satisfied with her letter to Halford, explaining how she had been stolen on her wedding day by a man who’d captured her heart long ago.

  She didn’t like having to lie to him but felt the tale was necessary not merely to save her reputation, but to provide a balm to Halford’s wounded dignity. The duke had an immense sense of pride, and she had savaged it, however unintentionally. Thus she was glad that her heartfelt apology had a sincere ring of truth.

  And even in the midst of her misery, she couldn’t deny a vague feeling of relief that she wouldn’t be required to wed Halford after all. Losing him wasn’t the devastating blow it might have been had she truly loved him.

  Forcibly ignoring her despondent thoughts, Raven sanded and sealed her letter, then sent for O’Malley and commissioned him to deliver it for her. A mistake, she realized, for it gave him the opportunity to quiz her relentlessly about her decision to wed the man whose brother had made her life a misery.

  “I’ve heard tell of Lasseter, Miss Raven,” the groom protested almost as vocally as her grandfather had done earlier. “His reputation is shady, without a doubt.”

  “I know all about his reputation,” Raven replied quietly. “But I have to believe it is much exaggerated.”

  “But his brother-”

  “Kell is nothing like his brother, O’Malley; I am certain of that. If he were, nothing could induce me to wed him. But as you said, I have little choice. Marrying Mr. Lasseter is the only possible way to extricate myself from this disaster.”

  “Maybe so,” O’Malley agreed with grave reluctance, “but I’d not like to see you hurt again.”

  “I know. But the worst is over.” She gave him a smile of reassurance and repeated her arguments until he finally abandoned the fight and complied with her request to deliver her letter.

  When he was gone, Raven sighed. She couldn’t take O’Malley to task for exceeding the bounds of the servant-mistress relationship, for he enjoyed the status of an o
ld friend, and she knew he worried for her. He had looked after her since she was a young girl.

  She felt her stomach clench with familiar anguish as she recalled the first time the groom had consoled her. She had been ten years old at the time, nearly dancing in anticipation of attending the birthday celebration of the Honorable Miss Jane Hewitt. Eleven-year-old Jane was the daughter of the highest-ranking nobleman on the island, and all children of the Quality had been invited.

  Raven, however, had made the mistake of asking her stepfather for a new dress-a request Ian Kendrick not only denied but maliciously ridiculed.

  “You will not need a new dress, Raven, because you are not going. A bastard does not belong in such elite company.” He eyed her coldly, making a scoffing sound. “You would never have been invited were your low origins known.”

  Bastard. Savage pain sliced through Raven at the vicious word, and it was all she could do to hold back her tears. It wasn’t that she needed or even wanted a fancy dress; she was much more at home in her worn riding habit than flounces and ribbons. But to be forcibly excluded because of her birth, and worse, to suffer her stepfather’s implied threat to tell the world about her origins…His cruelty made her stomach churn.

  She had fled to the stables and hid in the hayloft, where O’Malley found her sobbing her heart out. Hunkering down beside her, he eventually coaxed from her the reason for her grief.

  “I am a bastard, O’Malley. I will never be anything better. I am a nobody.”

  “ ’Tis not true, Miss Raven. You’re a beautiful young lady, I’ll be thinking. And who sired you isn’t as important as who you are inside, here.” He touched his chest.

  “But I have no father.”

  “If you want a da, I’ll be your da.” He patted her shoulder. “There now, dry your tears and come with me to see the new filly. She’s a beauty, with a coat as black as your hair…”

  Ian Kendrick had died two years later, but Raven had never extinguished her private fear of being publicly branded a bastard.

  Nor was it only her mother who had dreamed of the day Raven could travel to England and take her place among the nobility, of when she could prove herself worthy of joining the elite ranks that would have scorned her had they known the truth.