by Phoebe Conn
When Alex had been alive, being a countess had never been dull, but now the whole day stretched before her without a single responsibility to occupy her time. Abbot ran the house so beautifully that there was not a speck of dust on the furnishings nor a bit of tarnish on the silver.
The cook was extraordinarily talented and prepared delicious meals from the wide variety of livestock and produce grown on the estate. Eden had always been busy at home, and even at her aunt Lydia’s she had managed to find useful things to do. But Briarcliff ran itself, and she did not feel needed there.
The day was again bright and warm, but a sleepless night had left her without the energy to go out for a ride. “No one should be widowed at nineteen,” she whispered softly to herself.
Raven heard the sound of Eden’s voice, if not her words, and not wanting to interrupt a conversation, he peeked into the library to see to whom she was speaking. Finding her alone, he walked on in. “I thought it would be better for both of us if I remained on board my ship last night. If you’ve nothing better to do than talk to yourself, why don’t you come upstairs and help me sort though Alex’s things? Once we get that chore done, we can leave for London.”
Raven was in his shirtsleeves, his coat slung over his shoulder. Well-groomed as always, he looked rested and eager to get to work. Eden, however, felt completely drained. “Do you actually consider that an adequate apology after the way we parted yesterday?” she asked.
“On the contrary, I think you owe me one,” he countered smoothly.
Rather than argue with such an obstinate man, Eden slammed her book shut and rose to her feet. Knowing she lacked the interest to complete the novel, she replaced it on the shelf, and then preceded Raven out the door. “Alex had such a beautiful wardrobe. Can you wear any of his things?”
Surprised Eden had merely ignored his request rather than angrily persisting in her demand for an apology, Raven frowned slightly as he caught up with her. “No, I outgrew his clothes in my teens. The fact I was several inches taller threw everything out of proportion.”
“Yes, I understand. Do you want to give his clothes to the poor then?”
“No, there are men on the staff who can use a new suit of clothes.”
Eden didn’t argue as her father had frequently passed his clothes on to their servants and it was a common practice. When they reached his room, she went to the wardrobe and began looking through her late husband’s suits, making certain nothing had been left in the pockets while Raven chose to sort through the contents of the dresser.
That Raven had again assumed she would be leaving Briarcliff with him annoyed Eden no end, but she had spent enough time by herself since Alex’s death to know she ought not to remain there. She would have liked to have been asked what she planned to do though rather than told, however.
Raven had not noticed that Eden did not look well, and he was grateful for her silence as he looked through the assortment of tie pins, shirt studs, and cufflinks in Alex’s jewelry case. Finding the gold signet ring bearing the Clairbourne crest that his late uncle had occasionally worn, he tried it on. He liked the way the heavy gold ring felt on his hand and decided to wear it. He then set the small velvet case atop the dresser, and opened the next drawer.
The hummingbird-topped bottle tucked in the corner immediately caught his eye. He picked up the delicate glass container, removed the stopper, then tasted a drop of the fragrant oil. He recognized the damiana instantly, and turned toward Eden. “Do you know what this is?”
Eden looked up, and began to blush when she saw what he was holding. “Yes, and the bottle is so very pretty I’d like to keep it if you don’t mind.”
“Did you and Alex use this often?” he asked, barely able to keep his temper in check.
“That’s really none of your business,” Eden replied, unwilling to discuss the intimate details of her marriage with him.
Raven crossed the room in two long strides. “An aphrodisiac this potent leaves a healthy man as weak as a babe. Didn’t you realize what it would do to Alex?”
What little color had been in Eden’s cheeks faded instantly. “You mean it was harmful?”
“Harmful? For the love of God, Eden, it probably killed him!” Incensed by the stupidity of her question, Raven hurled the exquisite bottle against the far wall with a force that shattered it into a thousand shimmering bits. What little oil it had still contained splattered across the burgundy silk wallcovering leaving a dark stain trailing narrow rivulets that slid slowly to the floor.
Raven was every bit as enraged as he had been the previous afternoon and Eden was terrified not only by the hostility of his expression, but also by the harshness of his words. “He couldn’t have known that, Raven, or he would never have used it.”
“You must know what it does, so you can’t possibly be so stupid as to believe that,” Raven scoffed. He lowered his voice, taunting her anew, “It makes a person dizzy, makes everything seem like a fabulous dream where making love provides pleasure so intense it’s nearly pain. It also makes the heart race wildly until—”
“Stop it!” Eden screamed as she clamped her hands over her ears. She knew very well that the oil heightened the senses until reality was lost in a cloud of desire, but could its effect overwhelm a heart that already had to struggle to beat?
Raven grabbed her wrists so she could not block out his words. “You never thought about it, did you? Your only concern was how wonderful it was to be with Alex when all the while he was risking death to please you!”
“No!” Eden screamed. She tried to get away from Raven, to flee the room, to escape the horror of his words, but he refused to release her. He was so strong he needed only to tighten his grip on her wrists and he again lifted her off her feet. Crushed by the brutality of his accusations, Eden swiftly became hysterical. She had been able to accept Alex’s death with a calm resignation, but not under the circumstances Raven described, not if her passion for her husband had hastened his death.
Knowing the walls of Briarcliff were so thick they would muffle her cries, Raven let Eden shriek until she grew hoarse. His worst suspicions confirmed, he braced his feet and continued to hold her firmly, waiting for her to admit the responsibility for what she had done.
Bent on escaping him, Eden thrashed about so wildly her hair came loose from the bun at her nape. Her curls flew about her head, blinding them both with a veil of silken tresses. She tried to kick him, but her feet became entangled in her slips and she did no damage to his shins.
Raven did not shake Eden, nor slap her. He merely held her while she struggled and drenched him with her tears. When she had first begun to sob, he had felt a surge of triumphant satisfaction but as she continued to fight his grasp and wept past the point of exhaustion he grew concerned, and then alarmed.
“Eden,” he called, pulling her against his chest but she shrank away from him. He knew her to be high-strung, but now feared in his quest for an admission of guilt he might have pushed her into madness. Gathering her up in his arms, he carried her to the bed. Her full skirts and crinolines presented a bothersome nuisance that blocked his way so he hurriedly removed her gown and the layers of starched cotton slips beneath it.
Clad now in her chemise and pantalettes, she was much easier to handle and he forced her down on the bed and stretched out beside her. She had given him something precious in the times they had made love. He had only wanted her to see the truth, not to destroy her. He covered her tear-streaked face with kisses, smoothed her hair away from her eyes, and murmured the tender promises of a lover until at long last her racking sobs became no more than soft whimpers of despair.
As always, Raven had confused Eden completely. He had broken her heart with his mean accusations, and yet as his lips caressed hers lightly, she felt only desire rather than hatred. Too hurt to logically contemplate the puzzling change in his mood, she longed to be held rather than cursed. She wrapped her arms around his neck and again responded to his affection with kisses so de
ep they left him craving much more.
His passion loosed with anger, Raven eagerly accepted Eden’s unspoken invitation. He removed her lace-trimmed lingerie with a few savage tugs, flung his own clothes far and wide, and then returned to her arms with a cry of surrender that echoed hers. He knew he had thoughtlessly pushed her to the edge of reason, but now he hoped to undo that damage in the only way he knew how.
This time Eden had no illusions about what she was doing or with whom. She kept her eyes wide open, although Raven closed his to savor the beautiful sensations her loving created. Fully awake, she felt Raven’s strength rather than Alex’s tenderness, the exuberance of his youth rather than the masterful seduction of a mature lover. Cursing her own weakness, she wanted it all and she returned Raven’s fiery passion as though it were her natural right. Seductive, alluring, with a wanton abandon she drew Raven into a union that was as heated as the flames of her own private hell.
Wanting to prolong this passionate yet strangely bittersweet encounter, Raven plunged deeply then lay still within her. He held Eden’s face cupped tenderly between his hands as he searched her expression for the acceptance he sought. Her topaz gaze had always held a hint of wildness, but now it was darkened with desire. Certain she wanted him as badly as he wanted her, although he knew she would never say so, he began to move, striving to again make their union as perfect for her as it was for him. He held back the full force of his desire until he felt the waves of her climax begin to contract around him. He buried himself deep inside her then, and did not relax his loving embrace until she had fallen into the peaceful sleep of an untroubled child.
Raven did not disturb Eden’s rest until Reverend Boyer responded to his summons in the late afternoon. He then awakened her gently, wrapped her in a silk robe, and sent her into her own room where a maid was waiting to help her bathe and dress. He gave her no clue as to his purpose until she was again as beautifully groomed and dressed as was her custom. He had laid out the ice blue gown, and he was delighted when she accepted his choice rather than defying him. After thanking the maid for her assistance, he dismissed her and drew Eden into his arms.
“I arranged for a marriage license while I was in Exeter yesterday. I also informed the priest that it was Alex’s wish that we wed. I told him our grief has made us too dependent upon each other to live apart for any length of time, and that we ought to be allowed to wed without observing any further period of mourning. He was shocked by my request as you might well imagine, but I convinced him that our reputations would be sacrificed whether or not we married, and he could not in good conscience condemn us to a life of sin.”
Despite her lengthy nap, Eden’s head ached so badly she could scarcely understand Raven’s words. “Sin?” she repeated softly, thinking what she had done to Alex was a far greater sin than what had transpired between her and Raven.
“No one will dare say what exists between us is sinful when we are husband and wife,” he assured her. When Eden did not respond, Raven was grateful she appeared to be too distracted to argue with his plan. He slipped his arm around her waist and escorted her downstairs, where the entire staff, along with Randy MacDermott and several other members of the crew, had gathered in the drawing room to witness the ceremony. If any thought the wedding of a newly widowed woman to her late husband’s heir ill advised, they kept their thoughts and comments to themselves.Jamaican Wind’s
At her wedding to Alex, Eden had felt a delicious excitement that had been impossible to contain, but now with Raven by her side, she was overcome with the pain of grief and despair. Only dimly aware of the significance of the proceedings, she had to be prompted to give the appropriate responses. While in reality lasting only a few minutes, in Eden’s pain-numbed state the ceremony appeared to consume hours and she found it increasingly difficult to remain standing. When Raven slipped his arm around her waist to provide support, she looked up at him but was unable to convey her gratitude with a smile.
Expecting Eden to faint at any second, Raven did not merely clasp her waist, but instead took a firm hold on the smooth satin of her gown so he could keep her on her feet until the priest pronounced them husband and wife. When that moment finally arrived, he breathed a deep sigh of relief that his pale bride was still conscious. At least her eyes were open, but she scarcely seemed to see the people who came forward to wish them well. The mood of the small gathering was subdued as could be expected with Alex’s passing so recent, but still, there was not a guest present who did not appear far happier than the bride.
“We’ll not leave Briarcliff for a day or two,” Raven told Eden as they returned to his room that night. During dinner he had done his best to be as charming as he knew Alex must have been on their wedding night, but feared he had failed miserably. Eden had tasted each of the courses, but he doubted she had swallowed more than a thimble full of food the entire meal.
Her occasional responses to his conversation had been appropriate, if brief, so he knew she had at least been listening to him, but she had not glanced his way once. She had been in better spirits at Alex’s funeral than she was that evening, and he knew he was to blame for the blackness of her mood.
“I looked through your wardrobe this afternoon while you were sleeping to judge how much there was to pack. Several of the gowns I remember seeing you wear are missing. Did you leave some of your things at your aunt’s?”
What an odd question, Eden thought, for the size of her wardrobe was of no consequence to her. “Yes, the majority of my things are there, if Aunt Lydia has not given them away.” Eden could not even glance toward the bed without wincing, and terribly uncomfortable in the room, she started for her own.
“Where are you going?”
“I can’t stay here,” Eden responded with a shudder.
Her tone held more spirit than he had heard since their confrontation that morning, and rather than being insulted, Raven was relieved the damage he had done had not been permanent.
“Are you objecting to this room, or to me?” he asked as he followed her toward her door.
Her hand resting upon the doorknob, Eden turned to face him. She remembered the night they had met. He had been dressed in elegantly tailored evening clothes as he was now, but it had not been the attractiveness of his appearance that had impressed her. It had been the chill of his glance as he had dismissed her with no more than a nod. Now that aloof stranger was her husband.
“Both,” she replied truthfully.
Raven halted his advance in midstride, but his pose was relaxed rather than threatening. “The room we can change, but if that’s not the only problem, just what is it you want?”
Eden took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I want to be by myself.”
“On our wedding night?” Raven was barely able to ask before breaking into deep chuckles.
Eden considered his laughter as out of place as he had thought hers was on the cliff. “I can understand why we had to marry, but this isn’t the way newlyweds ought to feel.”
“How do you know how I feel?” Raven asked in a far softer tone.
“I know you think I killed Alex,” Eden responded. “So I can’t imagine you feeling anything but loathing.”
Raven could not deny the first part of her accusation, but he most certainly did not loathe her. That was a contradiction that he could not justify even in his mind, let alone aloud to her. He had thought her a lovely opportunist and he had wanted to make her pay for her selfishness. Clearly he had gotten his point across, but he could not take any pride in the accomplishment. The anguish in her eyes was too real. He had never deliberately hurt another person as he had Eden, but there was no way he could take back what he had said. Even if he offered an apology, she would never forget that bitter attack nor the fact he had made her face a truth she would never have seen for herself.
“If you would be more comfortable in your own room, I won’t keep you,” he finally offered graciously, sorry he had not thought of the consequences before he had f
orced her to accept his view of Alex’s death.
When Eden closed the door behind her, Raven held his breath, waiting for her to turn the key. When she did not, he broke into a sly smile. He went downstairs for a bottle of Briarcliff’s superb blackberry brandy and two delicate crystal snifters. He then returned to his room and waited until he was certain Eden had had ample time to prepare for bed. He then rapped lightly on her door, but entered her room before she had time to respond. She was seated at the dressing table, wearing the nightgown he had removed from her slender figure twice, and brushing her hair.
“I thought a brandy would help you sleep.”
Eden watched him approach in the mirror. He’d shed his jacket and waistcoat, and unbuttoned his shirt clear to the waist. She knew the brandy was merely an excuse to speak with her again, but she lacked the emotional strength to send him away. “That’s very thoughtful of you, but I’ve never cared for brandy.”
Undaunted, Raven placed the two snifters on the dressing table. “I’ll give you only a drop then.” He poured her no more than a splash, but was far more generous with himself. After recorking the bottle, he took a long sip then set his brandy aside.
“Will you let me brush your hair?” When she appeared to be reluctant to relinquish her silver-handled brush, he took it from her hand. “Did Alex like to do this?” He drew the brush through a long tawny curl, then wound the end around his hand. “Well, did he?”
“Yes.”
“Just close your eyes and pretend I’m Alex then.”
That was a suggestion Eden had never expected to hear from him. That she had already played such a dangerous game on more than one occasion was a secret she intended to take to her grave. His hands caressed her back gently as he continued to brush one curl at a time and she could not suppress a shiver. She was not cold, merely all too aware of him.
