Ecstasy n-4

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by Nicole Jordan


  “To what purpose?” he asked, probing. “You said you didn’t want or need a lover.”

  “No, I…I am not inviting you to share my bed, merely your house. I don’t like to think that I am driving you from your own home.”

  Kell held her gaze, unable to look away. “It would be best if I left now. The play at the club may not have ended yet.”

  “Perhaps so,” she murmured, her voice low. And yet she moved closer, as if drawn to him.

  Kell felt every muscle in his body tighten at her disturbing nearness, his instinct for danger warring with the powerful need to take her in his arms. He knew better than to touch her, and yet…the impulse was unconquerable. Gently grasping her shoulders, he drew her against him.

  A lightning stroke of desire surged through him. And from the darkening look in her eyes, he knew the fiery shock had touched her as well.

  He tightened his hold-and felt himself swell with an immediate, throbbing erection.

  Kell groaned silently, fighting the primal urge that was rampaging through him. He had to take care. Such hunger was dangerous, lethal. This woman could hurt him badly if he wasn’t careful.

  Yet he couldn’t move. He gazed down into her crystalline blue eyes, seeing the color in their depths shift like richly hued gemstones. He felt as if he were drowning in her gaze, drowning in her alluring combination of fire and fragility, her vibrancy.

  He wanted so badly to kiss her. To crush her mouth with his. Wanted to bury the ache of his arousal in the welcoming sheath that was made to receive him.

  Kell inhaled sharply, shaken by the intensity of his desire.

  Raven seemed just as spellbound. She reached up to touch his scar, and he felt something shift inside him…tenderness, lust, need. Desperate need.

  His head lowered…

  “So what have we here, big brother?” a snide voice drawled behind him.

  Kell gave a start, while Raven froze. Turning his head, he saw Sean mounting the front steps.

  Kell cursed the untimely interruption, a curse that was swiftly followed by a surge of self-censure. He’d been caught embracing Raven when he’d resolved to keep his distance. It irked him to think he was so weak that his powers of resistance would crumble at the first test.

  He would have held her away, but she stepped back on her own, into the shelter of the hall, a purely defensive gesture, eyeing Sean with wariness, even alarm.

  “How inconsiderate of you, Kell,” Sean sneered as he came to a halt on the upper landing. “You neglected to invite your own brother to your nuptial ball.”

  Biting back a retort, Kell regarded his brother over his shoulder. Sean had avoided him this past week, probably because he didn’t want to be pressed into leaving London. He was the worse for drink now, and clearly infuriated.

  “The ball,” Kell observed with little patience, “was merely an attempt to curb the scandal you caused. A means to show our unity and support our pretense of a love match.”

  “You call the touching scene I just witnessed pretense? Admit it, brother, you’re smitten with her.”

  “I was escorting my wife home,” Kell said sharply. “A circumstance that would not have existed if not for you.”

  Sean jerked back as if he’d been slapped.

  “But in fact,” Kell added grimly, “I was just on my way to the club. Why don’t you accompany me?”

  Raven felt a sudden chill as Kell stepped back from her, deliberately distancing himself, a closing out of emotion. His features as hard and remote as ever, he turned to his brother.

  “Come.” Without waiting for a protest, he ushered Sean down the steps.

  Raven watched them leave, regret coursing through her, along with a fierce surge of relief. She had despised meeting Sean again, and though it was cowardly to admit, she still dreaded dealing with him. She was glad he had gone.

  And yet she was profoundly glad he had come as well. Without the interruption, she might have given in to her senses. For a riveting moment as Kell had held her in his arms, she’d almost forgotten that their marriage was a sham. She had wanted him to kiss her, to touch her. To take her, heaven help her.

  Fool, she muttered fiercely to herself.

  Raven shivered in the freezing night air, realizing how narrowly she had avoided peril. Muttering a curse, she shut the door firmly and turned to go upstairs to seek her bed alone.

  Chapter Eleven

  As Raven’s friend Brynn had predicted, the ton showed signs of relenting in their harsh judgment of the scandal. The afternoon post brought nearly a dozen invitations for Mrs. Lasseter and her new husband.

  Upon seeing the size of the stack, Raven felt her mouth curve in a cynical smile, one admittedly tinged with bitterness. How fickle the ton was, following the whims of their leaders like sheep. And how blind she had been.

  She had willfully fooled herself all this time, hungering for acceptance by their imperious confederates, convinced that belonging to their elite ranks meant the world to her. But their specious brand of acceptance was as much a sham as her marriage. A house of cards that had all come tumbling down with one breath.

  Her course was set now, though. She was still determined to win herself back into their good graces. And she had no intention of backing down.

  Raven was perusing the various invitations in the parlor when Sean Lasseter spoke from the doorway.

  “How charming. The perfidious bride playing lady of the manor.”

  Alarmed, Raven leapt to her feet, scattering invitations everywhere.

  “Beg pardon, madam,” the Lasseter butler exclaimed at Sean’s shoulder, “but Mr. Lasseter insisted upon seeing you.”

  “I came to call on my new sister,” Sean drawled, sauntering into the room.

  Reflexively Raven’s hand went to her throat, where she could feel her pulse pounding. “What are you doing here?”

  “Calling, as I said. I have a key to my brother’s house, of course. And you haven’t the authority to deny me admittance.”

  Perhaps she did have no right to order him to leave, but neither did she have any desire to be alone with the man who had used her so harshly.

  “Knowles,” Raven managed to say to the butler, “will you please send O’Malley to me?”

  “Hiding behind your groom’s skirts again?” Sean said when the servant had gone.

  “What do you want, Mr. Lasseter?” Raven demanded, ashamed of the way her voice trembled. Yet the pain and humiliation he’d caused her during her abduction was still a stark memory. She had every reason to harbor a healthy fear of him.

  “I told you, I came to pay a courtesy call. I thought it only polite form to welcome you into the family.”

  She gazed at him skeptically as Sean settled in a chair, casually crossing one leg over the other. He was impeccably dressed in a bottle green coat that brought out the deep color of his eyes. She would have considered him a strikingly handsome man but for the savage look of dislike he was directing at her.

  “Somehow I doubt you consider me welcome,” she returned. “Or that you are even capable of common courtesy.”

  “Call it curiosity, then. Tell me, what clever tricks did you employ to dupe Kell into wedding you?”

  Gathering her control, Raven attempted to respond calmly. “I did not dupe him. He understood my plight and responded as a gentleman might, by proposing.”

  His mouth curled. “Kell is hardly a gentleman.”

  “At least he did not abduct me and drug me and ruin me in the eyes of society.”

  “But you know nothing of the sins he has committed.” Sean’s look turned almost sly. “He is suspected of murder; were you aware?”

  She lifted her chin scornfully, unwilling to believe anything Sean said. “I refuse to listen to such ugly rumors.”

  “Are you certain they are rumors?”

  Raven stared at him. “Are you claiming they are not? Kell said…He led me to believe he didn’t kill your uncle.”

  “Would you expect him to do
otherwise? He would hardly admit to murder, now would he?” Sean made a scoffing sound. “My brother is not the paragon you think him. You should take warning.”

  Raven shook her head, suspicious of Sean’s motives. He was doubtless trying to make trouble between her and his brother. Surely there was not any real substance behind his innuendo. But whatever his aim, she only wanted to be rid of him.

  She drew a deep breath. “What will it take to persuade you to leave me alone, Mr. Lasseter? Money? If so, I can give it to you. I have a modest fortune. You can have it if that will stop you from hounding me.”

  “You cannot bribe me,” Sean returned with scorn. “No amount of money can make up for the hell you put me through.”

  “I am sorry for the pain you suffered. But you have had your revenge. I would call us even.”

  “Not even. Never even.” His voice dropped to a chilling whisper. “Not until you pay in blood.”

  Rising, he moved toward her, his very stance menacing. If he deliberately meant to frighten her, he was succeeding. Raven took a defensive step backward, glancing behind her at the bellpull, wondering if she could reach it in time and summon a servant. If not, she could scream…

  When he reached out and grasped her wrist, she winced in pain. The bruises he had inflicted upon her the night of her abduction had only recently faded.

  Just then O’Malley appeared. Raven gasped in relief as he grabbed Sean by the collar and yanked him away from her.

  When Sean started to struggle, O’Malley drew back his meaty fist, holding it poised threateningly. “ ’Tis clear you didn’t learn the lesson I taught you last time.”

  “Unhand me, you bloody cur!” Sean demanded, his face black with rage.

  When the groom contemptuously released him, Sean staggered back, running a finger beneath his cravat as if it were too tight. “You will regret that, O’Malley.”

  “Not as much as you’ll regret it if you dare to touch her again. Wring your neck, I will, I promise you. You’ll not see your next dawn.”

  His scowl returning, Sean took a step forward. But then he stopped, as if considering the wisdom of fighting a man so much brawnier than he.

  His fists clenched at his sides, he lowered his voice to a savage whisper. “I would watch your back, if I were you.” Still bristling, Sean brushed past the groom and stalked from the room.

  Raven sank into the nearest chair, trembling.

  “Are you all right?” O’Malley asked in concern.

  “Yes…I think so.”

  “ ’Tis sorry I am that I let that bastard slip away the last time. Killed him, I should have.”

  She drew a slow breath. “Killing him might have been extreme. And the cost too high. You could have landed in prison or worse.”

  “But had I killed the blighter, he wouldn’t be here to accost you now. And you would never have been forced to wed his brother.”

  Raven pressed her lips together, refusing to let herself sink into self-pity. “Well, it is done now. I will have to find some way to live with it.”

  “I don’t like it, him being free to target you.”

  “I don’t care much for the way he threatened you, either,” she responded, remembering Sean’s warning to O’Malley to watch his back.

  “I can take care of myself, Miss Raven. ’Tis you who should beware, I’m thinking. You should keep a knife or a pistol close at hand.”

  Raven grimaced. She had already shot his brother. She didn’t like to think of having to defend herself by violent means, and yet it might be necessary. “Perhaps I should.”

  “Well, I’ll be near if you should need me.”

  “Thank you, O’Malley.”

  After the groom was gone, she hugged her arms around herself, feeling unclean and afraid. It was a long moment before her shivers began to subside.

  Her gaze dropped to the invitations that had fallen to the carpet. She might have made some progress in reducing the scandal, but it was clear she still hadn’t removed the threat.

  She still had a dangerous enemy in Sean Lasseter. And so did O’Malley.

  When Raven’s groom was shown in, Kell was seated at his desk in his private study, reviewing account books. He looked up in surprise as O’Malley stalked across the carpet.

  “A word with you it is I’m wanting, Mr. Lasseter,” the groom said grimly, coming to a halt before the desk. He stood with hat in hand, like any correct servant, but there was nothing humble about his demeanor. Rather, anger etched his craggy features, perhaps even belligerence.

  Kell set down his pen. “Is this about my wife?”

  “Aye, and your brother.”

  He felt his stomach knot.

  “I’m not usually one to bear tales,” O’Malley ground out, “but your brother…he came to your house this afternoon to threaten Miss Raven. He nearly struck her.”

  “Did he hurt her?” Kell demanded in a sharp voice.

  “No, but he would have had I not been there to stop him. I had to show him my fives to make him leave.”

  Digesting the groom’s information in silence, Kell felt anger spear through him. Before he could respond, however, O’Malley continued in a voice that was half-furious, half-pleading.

  “That won’t be the end of it, I’m thinking. Your brother said he wants revenge for the hell he suffered. But Miss Raven isn’t to blame for what the navy did to him. If anyone is at fault, ’tis myself. When he attacked Miss Raven in the park, I darkened his daylights and left him there to come to his senses. But I swear, I never thought he would be taken up by the impressment gang.”

  “No,” Kell replied in a low voice. “If anyone is to blame, it’s Sean for assaulting her in the first place.”

  “Aye.” O’Malley nodded fiercely. “He’s already hurt her enough. But I’ve a terrible fear he won’t leave it be. And I don’t know if I can protect her next time.”

  Kell felt his jaw harden, along with his resolve. “I will deal with my brother, O’Malley,” he said tightly. “I promise you, Sean won’t hurt her again.”

  After finding Sean away from home, Kell visited several haunts his brother normally frequented, finally running him to earth at Madame Fouchet’s. The most elegant sin club in London catered to aristocratic young bloods and wealthy commoners and specialized in fulfilling sexual fantasies.

  The proprietor was a shrewd Frenchwoman, the same madame who had supplied the aphrodisiac used on Raven. Madame Fouchet greeted Kell personally, and with fondness.

  “How good to see you, mon cher. You have not graced us with your presence in quite some time. We have missed you.”

  Kell returned a noncommittal half smile. “I am seeking my brother, madame. Is he perhaps here?”

  “Indeed, he is. But he is…occupied at present.”

  “Even so, I should like to speak to him.”

  “Then you will find him in room number seven.”

  Kell started to turn away, but Madame Fouchet stopped him. “I worry about your brother, cher. He seems a very troubled young man. He has such delightful charm, but there are occasions when he has not been…nice to my girls.”

  “Is that so?” Kell asked with an edge of grimness. “In that case, you needn’t feel obliged to endure his patronage. And you should not hesitate to call me if he oversteps the bounds.”

  “I will do that, monsieur. Thank you.” She smiled. “Of course you must know that you are always welcome here. But I hear you are newly wedded. You will not want to leave your bridal bed for one of my girls, no?”

  He feigned a smile and declined to answer directly. “I will keep your invitation in mind, madame.”

  The sporting house seemed abnormally quiet as Kell mounted the stairs. But then it was only late afternoon, far too early for the usual revelry.

  He had no doubt how he would find his brother, though. And given his own past wildness, he could hardly condemn such dissipation. Kell could well remember his younger years when he first came to London. He had thought nothing of spending
the entire day in bed with a beautiful Cyprian, indulging in decadence.

  For too long, however, he’d set Sean a bad example. He had sobered greatly since, making an effort to be more discreet, eschewing brothels for longer-term arrangements. His last affair with a wealthy merchant’s widow had ended badly, with tears and recriminations on her part, and he’d refrained from employing another mistress since then.

  Perhaps fortunately, Kell reflected, considering the fact that he was now wed. Managing a wife and mistress at the same time was more trouble than he preferred to deal with at the moment. He had enough on his hands with the problem of his brother.

  Then again, he might be wise to take up Madame Fouchet’s offer to visit here. Perhaps then he would be able to forget the searing memory of blue eyes and soft breasts and the alluring scent that haunted his dreams.

  Trying to dismiss thoughts of his beautiful, unwanted bride, Kell rapped lightly on the door to room seven and was sharply bid entrance.

  He found Sean seated on a chaise, a scantily clad beauty on his lap.

  “If I might have a word with you in private,” Kell said, not waiting for an invitation before settling himself in a chair opposite his brother.

  With a scowl on his face, Sean patted the courtesan’s derriere and sent her from the room.

  “So what brings you here, brother?” he asked belligerently. “Not the entertainment, surely. You have no need to drown your sorrows in the arms of a paid whore. You have a wife now-or is she spurning you the way she did me?”

  Kell forced himself to ignore the jibe. “You crossed the line again this afternoon,” he said, his tone terse. “Raven is my wife now, whether or not either of us likes it. I won’t have her harmed.”

  Sean looked away guiltily. “I didn’t harm her.”

  “But you threatened to.”

  “How do you know? Did she come running to you?”

  Kell responded to the taunt by issuing a demand. “Perhaps I failed to make myself clear. You’ll keep away from her in future.”

  “And if I don’t?”

  He narrowed his gaze on his brother. “I expect you to leave London tomorrow.”

 

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