A fevered longing filled her, and she licked her dry lips, anticipating that hot, hard shaft coming into her, assuaging the terrible, sweet ache that all but consumed her.
“Yes.” Her own voice sounded sultry when she added a plea. “But you should untie me, sir. I can give you more pleasure that way.”
“Very well, captive.”
He complied, reaching behind her to slice the bonds from her wrists.
“Thank you, kind sir,” she murmured. “You won’t regret it.” Looking down, she eyed the dagger. “Do you really need this wicked blade? I vow I will be obedient.”
With a provocative glance, she took the dagger from his hand. The anticipation in his smile, however, vanished when she held the blade to his throat.
Behind the pirate’s mask, his eyes flashed dangerously.
“Back away,” she ordered. “Farther!” she insisted, waiting until he had retreated three more steps. “Now it is your turn, monsieur.”
“My turn?” She could imagine him raising an eyebrow behind the mask.
“To obey. Kneel before me.”
His mouth twisting with mockery, he did as she bid, dropping to both knees.
“Now your manhood. Release it completely. I want to see it.”
Opening his breeches farther, he drew up his shirt to expose his flat, hard belly and powerful loins. His erect member jutted proudly toward her, Raven saw with fascination.
“Now pleasure yourself.”
“Mademoiselle?”
“You heard me! I want to see you stroke yourself, to torment yourself as you did me.”
Obediently he reached down, but when his palm brushed the smooth tip of his phallus, the shaft jerked hungrily. Raven saw him clench his teeth.
“I am waiting, pirate.”
Sitting back on his heels then, he cupped the velvety pouch of his heavy testicles with one hand, gripping the thick stem with the other.
“Like this, mademoiselle?” he said, slowly stroking from base to head.
Raven barely stifled a moan, overwhelmed with longing to feel that hard flesh driving deep, deep inside her.
The pirate clearly had the same goal in mind, for his black eyes were fastened on the juicy folds of flesh between her thighs.
“This will satisfy neither of us,” he scoffed, yet raw desire darkened his voice.
“Do you think I care about satisfying the lustful desires of a pirate?”
“Yes.”
Gazes locked, they stared at each other.
“No,” she insisted. “I would rather have you at my mercy.”
He gave a slow, lascivious smile. “There is just one problem, mademoiselle.” He sprang lithely to his feet and stalked toward her, his magnificent shaft swaying. “You should know better than to torment a pirate.”
Raven gasped as he swept her up in his arms, letting the dagger clatter to the deck.
“My revenge will be swift,” he threatened, his warm mouth against her lips. “I intend to ravish you until you scream with pleasure.”
He carried her into the cabin then, dropping her on the satin-covered bunk and following her down, pinioning her hands on either side of her bare shoulders.
When she struggled to free herself, he gave a menacing laugh. “Fight me, vixen,” he urged, tenderly biting each of her hardened nipples in turn. “But before we’re through, you will surrender to me. You’ll give me everything I want, everything you have to give.”
He thrust himself relentlessly within her, making her cry out in pleasure. Raven arched against him, her inner muscles clutching his gloriously hard flesh, even as she fought the onslaught of rapture.
But his hot, slick strokes drove her onward, toward the excruciating bliss. He released her hands to capture her face and kiss her fiercely, his tongue plunging deep. Yielding, straining in mindless abandon, she dug her nails into the muscles of his shoulders.
Suddenly his body wrenched in a massive shudder. At his ragged groan, fire exploded through her veins. She screamed, and his mouth captured her sobs of ecstasy, just as her pirate lover might have. They clung together through the passionate storm, lost to reality, oblivious to anything but their fantasy.
Finally he collapsed against her, spent, shuddering, leaving her dazed and exhausted.
Later, much later, Raven lay in Kell’s arms as he slept, stunned by the savage pleasure he had given her, frightened by the feelings this complex, enigmatic man had incited in her.
He had become too dangerous, she reflected. Their carnal pleasure had grown too threateningly intimate, his image too irresistibly entwined with her imaginary lover.
I want everything you have to give, he had said. Dismayingly, she could envision herself giving him everything.
But she wouldn’t let that happen, she vowed. She would have to stop making love to Kell before he took over her fantasies entirely.
Three nights later Kell found himself pondering how to proceed with his wife as he watched a dozen nubile female bodies cavort upon a stage.
As Dare’s guest, he was attending a soiree held expressly for the Hellfire League at a different sin club. The entertainment, which had begun merely as an erotic ballet, was in danger of sinking into something of an orgy, for a few noble bucks in the audience had become overly aroused and had claimed several of the performers as their sexual partners.
The debauchery didn’t surprise Kell. He had attended similar gatherings in the past at various flesh houses, although never in such elite company. Dare had seen to it that his fellow Leaguers had welcomed Kell into their ranks and supported his gaming club-much to his gratitude.
Twisting his mouth wryly, Kell took another potent swallow of brandy. Two months ago he would have scoffed had someone told him he would be grateful to be taken under wing by the Marquess of Wolverton and his ilk. But he owed a great deal to Dare-and to Halford as well, he grudgingly admitted.
His club was safe now. Halford had been magnanimous indeed, bringing the Prince Regent himself to patronize the Golden Fleece last evening. Prinny had won a small sum and pronounced the play “capital.” And with the royal seal of approval, Kell’s club was assured of recovery from the destruction the duke’s slander had wrought.
The future of his marriage, however, was still wholly unsettled.
Absently Kell’s gaze wandered over the stage, but the carnal antics had no power to arouse him, nor did the thought of coupling with any of the beauties there. Upon his arrival, several of the doves had fawned over him and invited him to partake of their frolics later, but he had politely extricated himself.
There was only one woman he desired, one pair of legs he wanted coiled around his waist, one delectable beauty writhing in passion beneath him.
Averting his gaze, he stared down into his brandy, seeing a vision of soft, creamy skin and lush breasts and laughing sapphire eyes. He could still feel every soft curve against him, stirring his body…
His unsated body.
Raven hadn’t allowed him to touch her since their heated night of shared fantasy. She was regretting what had happened between them, he knew.
As he was.
Hell, it had probably even been a mistake to goad her into conjugal relations in the first place. Initially he’d had the vague, misguided notion that if he made love to her, he could satisfy his hunger and drive her from his mind. And then his male pride had gotten the better of him, spurring him to see her imaginary lover as his rival.
He had fooled himself, though. The deep ache of desire hadn’t eased even after their nights of passion. Raven’s allure was as potent at ever. And her fantasy lover still claimed her allegiance.
Cursing, Kell tossed back the rest of his brandy.
Just then he saw Dare making his way toward him and felt another involuntary twinge of jealousy. He was jealous of the marquess and his easy relationship with Raven, for Dare shared her confidence and trust. Even Halford had a stronger claim to her affection than he himself did.
He would have pref
erred Raven to associate less with both men, but he could hardly order her to cut the connections. He didn’t have that right. Whatever his feelings of male possessiveness, he would have to control them. Their marriage was merely one of convenience. It would be lunacy to develop any deeper emotions toward Raven, for she wouldn’t allow herself to reciprocate.
He schooled his features into impassivity as Dare sat beside him.
“I must apologize for the spectacle,” Dare said with an elegant grimace. “Such juvenile deportment can be so tiresome. I suspect it interests you no more than it does me.”
“I prefer a more private performance, I admit.”
“Shall we depart, then? The sport is far better at your club.”
Agreeing, Kell accompanied the marquess downstairs, but they spoke of inconsequential matters until they were seated in Dare’s carriage.
“I haven’t thanked you adequately for your intervention on my behalf,” Kell said then.
Dare waved a hand. “Think nothing of it. I would have acted for Raven’s sake, even if I had not come to like you. I very much want her to be happy.” He gave Kell a studied glance in the dimness of the carriage. “You needn’t be concerned about my relationship with your wife,” he added pointedly. “I think of Raven as a beloved younger sister.”
“You relieve my mind,” Kell remarked, his tone lightly mocking although inwardly he was quite serious.
Dare hesitated. “To be frank, I am glad for the opportunity to speak to you alone.”
Kell felt himself stiffen, uncertain where this conversation would lead.
“I confess,” Dare said, “I wasn’t entirely displeased when Raven was compelled to wed you. She and Halford were completely ill-suited. In the long run, I believe you will be a far better choice for her.”
Kell eyed the marquess skeptically. “You think me a better choice than a lofty duke?”
“Without question. You are much more likely to appreciate Raven’s unique qualities. She has more spirit than any dozen other women combined, even if she’s endeavored to repress it since coming to England.”
She did indeed have more spirit, Kell agreed silently. A bright spirit that was irresistible.
“She has worked quite hard at attempting to fit in, trying to mold herself into what her mother wished her to be.”
“And what was that?”
“A milk-and-water miss who’s ruled entirely by propriety,” Dare said with an edge of derision.
“You seem to know Raven well.”
“I am privy to some of her secrets.”
“Her secrets?”
“She would probably have my head for telling you this, but I think you should know about her past. Her half brother Nicholas informed me so I would be better prepared to look after her.”
Dare proceeded to tell about Raven’s mother and her passionate love for a married man, about Elizabeth conceiving a child out of wedlock and being forced to wed a younger son she disliked.
“So Kendrick was not Raven’s real father?” Kell asked thoughtfully.
“No. Raven rarely speaks of him, but I gather there was no love lost between them. She cherished her mother, though. Before she died, her mother made her promise to wed a noble title. I expect Elizabeth feared the scandal might catch up to her daughter one day and wanted Raven to have the protection of rank and position, even though Nick made certain she inherited a substantial income from her real father. Wealth can make up for a multitude of sins but not questionable bloodlines.”
“How well I know,” Kell said darkly.
He fell silent, remembering Raven’s remark about not wanting children-her concern about conceiving a child without a father who would love and care for him. Was her reluctance because of her own experience?
Kell frowned. He wasn’t all that certain he wanted children himself. There was enough bad blood in the Lasseter line to fear passing it on to his offspring. His uncle for one, and his brother Sean…
He recollected himself as Dare spoke again.
“Despite your lack of a title, you could be precisely what Raven needs.”
“You’re not concerned I might do her harm?”
“Not in the least. I’ve seen how you look at her.”
“Like every other besotted sap who sets eyes on her, you mean.” Kell’s mouth twisted. He couldn’t deny that his worst fear had come to pass: He’d been bewitched by the bride he’d planned to ignore. “I suppose you have a reason for confiding Raven’s secrets,” he said finally.
“I do,” Dare admitted. “I consider you a highly intelligent man. If you understand what drives her, you will know better how to deal with her. Raven is passionate in everything she does. If she came to care for you when you couldn’t reciprocate…I would not like to see her heart broken.”
“Raven is the one known for breaking hearts,” Kell retorted dryly. “I expect I’m in far greater danger than she is.”
“Even so…if you don’t think you can care for her, then it would be best if you simply kept away from her.”
It was Kell’s turn to hesitate. “I’ve been invited by her grandfather to spend the holidays with Raven at his estate.”
Dare raised an eyebrow. “Luttrell must have elected to accept your marriage, then. Do you intend to go?”
“I have yet to decide.” Surprisingly, Sean had written of his desire to remain in Ireland over Christmas, and Kell was uncertain about whether to join him or to allow his brother the distance he seemed to crave.
“You are more than welcome to come with me to the Wolverton family seat for the holidays,” Dare said. “Frankly, I would enjoy the company, for this visit will be purely obligatory. I’ve been there only once since I inherited from my grandfather, because it holds so many unpleasant memories of the old bastard. You would be doing me a favor.”
“Thank you. I’ll keep your offer in mind.”
Gazing out at the dark streets, Kell sank into contemplation. He had unpleasant memories as well, both of his bastard of an uncle and of Christmas. It was during the Christmas holidays that he’d come home to discover the terrible truth about his poor brother. And then they’d fled to Ireland and to the misery of living on the streets-certainly the worst time of his life.
He didn’t want to endure Christmas alone. Whether or not he should risk spending it with Raven, however, was an entirely different matter. Raven left him so dangerously vulnerable.
She’d shown little enthusiasm about his accompanying her to her grandfather’s. And then there were his brother’s feelings to consider. Sean would be furious if he returned to find his prediction had come to pass-that Kell had fallen for the very woman Sean blamed for causing his misery.
Mentally Kell shook his head. He couldn’t continue letting his brother rule every aspect of his life, especially one so personal as his marriage. And despite the danger, he wanted to go.
The temptation of being close to Raven for even a short while was relentless, overpowering. He was like a possessed sailor being lured by a siren’s call toward the lethal rocks. He couldn’t turn away.
Kell pressed his lips together in a grim line. It was no doubt madness, but he intended to accompany his wife to the country for the Christmas holidays. And God help him if he couldn’t prevent his desire for her from swelling out of control.
Chapter Seventeen
If Raven hoped to avoid intimacy with Kell during the Christmas holidays, she realized her mistake the moment she set foot in his traveling coach.
Her grandfather’s estate in East Sussex was only some forty miles south of London, but spending a good part of the day alone with Kell gave her more opportunity for private conversation than in all the weeks of their marriage. Regrettably O’Malley wasn’t on hand to keep the discussions impersonal, for he rode in a second carriage with the other servants-her maid and Kell’s valet.
The frigid weather didn’t help her keep her distance, either, for the coach windows had to remain shut against the light snow that was falling
. Unaccustomed to such chill temperatures, Raven couldn’t refrain from shivering, despite the hot bricks at her feet and several woolen carriage robes.
“I never realized winter could be so cold,” she complained, watching her breath frost on the interior of the panes.
“The West Indies isn’t exactly renowned for its snow,” Kell replied, amused.
“No. Until I came to England, I never even saw snow.”
“It will likely get far worse than this. Come here,” he ordered, holding out his arm.
She protested when Kell drew her into the shelter of his body to share his warmth, but then he asked her about winters in the British West Indies, and somehow Raven found herself telling him about growing up on the Caribbean isle of Montserrat and revealing confidences she never intended to-about playing pirate on white crystalline beaches and swimming in aquamarine seas and galloping over green, green hills.
“I’ve heard that Montserrat resembles Ireland somewhat,” Kell remarked thoughtfully.
“I wouldn’t know since I’ve never been to Ireland, but the largest number of settlers on the island are indeed Irish. Did you spend much time in Ireland when you were young?”
She immediately regretted her question, though, for it was unsettling to hear Kell tell of visits to Ireland when his parents were still alive, especially when she caught his dark eyes smiling with fond memories.
“From the time I was a babe, my mother regaled me with tales of the wee folk, so whenever we visited, I spent most of my waking hours hunting them.” His self-deprecating grin held an irresistible appeal. “I vow I believed in leprechauns until I was nearly a grown man.”
Raven shifted restlessly and eased herself from Kell’s embrace, claiming that she was warm enough. Even if it was a lie, she knew she would be wiser to maintain a formal reserve between them.
The situation grew even worse when they arrived at the Luttrell estate. There were some initial awkward moments when his lordship greeted Kell, and Raven worried that she would have to come to her husband’s defense. Then they were shown upstairs and she discovered her grandfather had allotted them only a single bedchamber, even though there were dozens of empty guest rooms throughout the huge manor.
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