Ecstasy n-4

by Nicole Jordan

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

  He didn’t want 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 t
he 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?”

  “Yes! Although I can’t imagine it will be easy to satisfy a libertine of your vast appetites.”

  Her muttered comment was meant as an insult, but Kell returned a tolerant smile. “I expect you will be a quick study. After all, you have an unusual depth of knowledge gleaned from your erotic journal. And experience with your fantasy lover as well.”

  Annoyed by his reminder, Raven frowned. Perhaps it had been unwise to tell Kell about her fantasies; certainly it was if he meant to throw her confessions back in her face.

  “Well, what are you waiting for?” he asked as she stood trying to think of a suitable retort. “You just agreed to satisfy me.”

  “You want me to-Now?”

  “Why not now? What better opportunity to show me that you are serious? You can start by undressing me.”

  “You cannot undress yourself?”

  His smile was one of amused patience. “Where would be the satisfaction in that? I will find it much more pleasurable if you assume the honors.”

  Biting back an oath, she reluctantly went to him and helped him out of his coat. Then she removed his waistcoat and untied his cravat. The open throat of his shirt revealed a glimpse of bronze-hued skin lightly sprinkled with hair.

  “Please me, Raven,” he commanded softly when she hesitated. “Take off my shirt.”

  Obediently she slid her hands beneath the fine cambric to touch his flesh, finding it warm and silky. With his help, she raised the shirt over his head but found herself distracted by the elegant patterns of dark hair on his chest.

  “Raven?”

  Dragging her gaze away, she glanced up at Kell. A cool smile played around his impossibly sensual mouth; he knew quite well how appealing she found his stark masculinity.

  “Now my breeches.”

  Her cheeks flushing at his knowing look, she took a deep breath and unbuttoned first the straining placket on his breeches, then his drawers. His rampant member sprang free, brushing her fingers. He was fully aroused, his erection as hard as marble.

  Raven drew back as if she’d been burned. Merely touching him felt like playing with fire. Yet she wasn’t nearly as bold as he thought her. It was one thing to make love to a fantasy image, quite another to take the initiative with this beautiful, vital man.

  She glanced up at him, hoping that her racing heart wasn’t obvious. “You are laboring under a misapprehension if you think I know how to pleasure you. I don’t have your prowess or experience.”

  To her surprise, Kell didn’t pressure her. Instead he moved over to his desk and pulled out the chair, then settled in it.

  “Come here, then.” He held out his right arm, indicating that she should sit on his lap. His blatantly rigid manhood jutted out from the opening in his breeches, beckoning as well.

  His brazen arousal held her fascinated gaze as she crossed to him. But then she remembered his bullet wound and hesitated, eyeing his left leg. “Has your thigh healed?”

  “Enough to allow me to perform, at least if I am careful.”

  She sat gingerly on his right side, feeling the hard, lean muscles of his thigh flex beneath the tight-fitting satin breeches.

  His arms encircled her loosely as he settled her more securely on his lap. His eyes had taken on a slumberous look, his black-velvet lashes hooding the dark intensity.

  “With my body I thee worship,” he murmured, repeating a line from their marriage vows. “Do you intend to properly worship me, wife?”

  Not answering, Raven held herself stiffly, despite the heat rising up in her at his suggestive words. She continued to remain immobile when he reached around her, his fingers expertly unfastening the hooks of her gown.

  “Relax,” he said, evidently feeling her tension. “I won’t make you do anything you don’t want to do.”

  Yet she couldn’t relax. His alien hardness was a hot brand against her thigh, and she could only think of what was to come, how it would feel to have that swollen length thrusting inside her, filling her…

  He leaned forward and, with his tongue, touched the rapidly beating pulse in her throat. “Draw down your bodice for me.”

  The heat of even that brief caress flared through her, setting fire to every nerve. After a short hesitation, she lowered the neckline of her blue velvet gown, leaving her bosom still covered by her chemise. When she looked down, she could see the rosy outline of her peaked nipples.

  Bending, he kissed one through the thin fabric, his tongue finding the tip, drawing it against his teeth.

  Raven shivered.

  “Your shift, too. I want to see all of you.”

  When she had difficulty freeing her arms, he aided her, unfastening the buttons at her back, then drawing off the sleeves and pulling down her garments till she was bare from the waist up. Everywhere his fingers touche
d, her skin seemed to burn.

  His gaze was almost leisurely, appreciative and very male as he surveyed her naked flesh. “I keep forgetting how beautiful you are,” he said, his voice low and husky. “Your breasts are more lush than I anticipated, given your slenderness.”

  Raven shifted restlessly in his lap, her breasts tingling for want of his caresses.

  His gaze focused on her taut nipples, his eyes glittering with a heat that had nothing to do with his earlier anger. “Your nipples are hard and I haven’t even suckled them yet… Do you want me to suckle them?” He touched the sensitive tip teasingly with his mouth.

  Raven closed her eyes, unable to deny her need. “Yes…” she breathed.

  “Then offer your nipples up for me,” he ordered, his voice as smooth as velvet.

  Her eyes flew open. Kell was watching her, challenge in his dark eyes. He was perfectly serious, Raven realized. He was demanding she act the wanton. But if he meant to intimidate her, he would not succeed.

  “You aren’t very accommodating for a mistress,” he said, his voice a silken taunt. “Didn’t that journal of yours teach you anything?”

  “Yes, but obviously not the sort of thing you are proposing.”

  “Then I shall have to give you lessons in how a woman satisfies a man.”

  “I suppose Miss Walsh knows how to satisfy you.”

  He surveyed her with a level gaze. “She knows very well what it takes.” His eyes were suddenly intense, his tone harder. “What of your fantasy lover? Does he know how to satisfy you?”

  “Yes,” Raven retorted, glad to have something to throw in Kell’s face.

  “Then think of me in his place. I intend to be your lover tonight. Now do as I say and give me your nipples.”

  Another sensual shiver rippled through Raven. Kell was bold, brazen, commanding, just like her pirate lover-and it excited her more than she could have imagined. Swallowing her misgivings, she did as he bid, cupping her breasts till they were raised high and mounded in her hands.

  Kell nodded with a charming, predatory smile. “Now say ‘please suck on my breasts, lover.’ ”