“Ah, there are boundaries now?” She posed the sarcastically issued question with attempted levity, her brows lifting. Kate flinched as he flung away from her. His wrath was apparent as a silvery glow of moonlight illuminated his body, sending his impressive shadow into stark relief on the distant walls.
“Madam!” He spat warningly.
“I suppose we have reverted to unspoken boundaries, if you're going to address me as madam.” She muttered mutinously. “Apparently, you haven't gotten over your anger.”
He paused and shoved his fists deep into the pockets of his trousers. The ebon darkness of his head dropped perceptibly, his chin nearly coming to rest on his chest with the effort to inhale. Kate watched as he took a deep breath before lifting his head.
“Anne's mother is a difficult subject.” His voice was haunting as he turned toward her. He removed his hands from his pockets and ran them over the nape of his neck. “I never assumed Anne would question about her birth. I had hoped she was satisfied with the simple knowledge that she's a Ravensmoor.”
“Sometimes, that might not be enough” Kate supplied.
“Apparently,” he returned to her side. Dante angled the broadness of his shoulder into the framework of the arched window, absently rubbing the chill from his arms as his shirt slipped heedlessly from his brawny shoulders. After a few moments of silence, as if carefully phrasing his words, his arms dropped to his sides. Deep in thought, he stared at her upturned face, his eyes gleaming.
“There are actions many of us commit in our youth, which we eternally rue.” Dante began, his words slow and halting, the effort to speak his thoughts troubling. “I was an over indulged youth. I had everything I desired at my fingertips, the absent but influential and titled father, the glamorous mother, the proverbial silver spoon popped into my mouth at birth.”
He paused to rub at the dryness burning his eyes, the throbbing in his head increasing.
“My father sent me to the best universities offered, the schools of my illustrious ancestors, striving to mold me into a productive individual. The old man didn't want another peacock in residence, although he christened me with the same bloody name.”
“You went to school and proved him otherwise?” She prompted gently.
His hands fell to his sides and a short bark of bitter laughter escaped him. “I rebelled against the schooling and tormented my head-masters.”
“Oh.”
“The summer of my eighteenth year, I had matured to the point where I….” he paused, as if striving to find the correct words. “ I was similar as I am now, physically. I attracted the attention of numerous women.”
Kate was grateful for the darkness, feeling her cheeks warm at his strangled admission.
“Primarily, older women,” he continued harshly, his tone biting. “Women whose sons were my friends and peers with whom I attended the uni.”
“The uni?” Kate was perplexed at the word.
Dante afforded her a small but decidedly tight smile.
“The university.” He provided easily. “I seduced women old enough to be my mother. I surmised, being the spoiled child I was, they desired me due to my rakish good looks and title. I was a gift to be doled out in large doses, invincible, perfection in male form, a man for which women hungered.”
“Dante!” She hissed, bringing her hands to her flaming face, unbidden images leaping into her mind.
He snorted derisively, his hands tangling in the thickness of his hair as he shook his head.
“Fool I was that I didn't realize I was a toy, a plaything to their jaded libidos. They would boast to one another of how I pleasured them. I was something passed among a group of insatiable women who cared nothing for me.” His hands fell to his sides, hanging limply. “My father heard of my exploits.”
“He called you home.” She added simply, almost capable of hearing the outrage resonating through the manor house at the discovery.
“He summoned me to Colinwood for chastisement.” Dante provided with a penitent nod. “Defiantly, I returned home, intent on advising him that my life was mine and not to be dictated. I never had the opportunity to utter any of my carefully rehearsed words.”
“Why?” Despite the gut wrenching jealousy tearing at her, Kate's curiosity was overpowering.
“I found an infant awaiting me.”
“An infant?”
“More precisely, my Anne,” and humorless laughter twisted his next words. “My child was left at the kitchen door without a by your leave. O'Toole took one look at Anne and knew she belonged to me.” He paused, rocking on his feet as a short and bitter laugh escaped him. “The curse of being a Ravensmoor, our devilish good looks.”
“Anne's mother?”
He issued a deep and heavy sigh, the sound full of regret. “I'm unable to inform Anne of her mother's identity.”
Kate was stunned by the admission. “You must have an idea?”
“I don't know the identity of the woman.”
“There has to be a name on the birth certificate.” Kate prompted, her head spinning with his confession. “Men may refuse to sign a certificate, but a woman? That's an entirely different matter.”
“Oh, there was a name on the certificate.” He supplied gruffly as he shrugged. “Unfortunately, it's the name of a woman who doesn't exist. , in many corrupt circles, money and influence can accomplish bloody miracles in concealing the truth.”
Kate blinked, flabbergasted. “You don't remember any of the women, anyone that might be Anne's mother?”
Dante issued a short bark of cruel laughter. “Names weren't a requirement to obtain a good fuck.”
Kate winced at his crude admission, her face flaming. Her words were tight as she responded. “I wouldn't know.”
“I don't suppose you would, Kate,” he chided, her innocence obvious to his jaded senses.
“Dante,” she began sympathetically, effectively halted as he raised his hand to silence her.
“Both of my parents were in residence at the time.” He continued grimly. “My mother didn't speak to me for nearly six months, and my father….” Shamefully, he lowered his head. “My parents were mortified. I had a child by an unnamed woman in her forties, who obviously found a newborn a hindrance. I had yet to turn nineteen and was a father and a wastrel.”
“What happened?”
“My father deemed it necessary to lend a firm hand. He had me withdrawn from school, away from the persuasions capable of reverting me to my worrisome ways. His words were 'If I had the time to propagate, I had the time to assume responsibility for my actions'.”
He snorted at the remembered disbelief, the palms of his calloused hands lifting upwards in a nearly beseeching gesture. He laughed ironically, remembering how smooth they once were before they fell to his sides.
“I was employed at the factory, under his direct supervision, at the most lowly position available. If I wanted advancement, I had to apply myself and compete against other employees, but I began at the very bottom.”
She really had to retract the comment to Anne about the benefits of nepotism. Apparently, Dante had received a far sterner and less forgiving lesson than those he provided his daughter. Kate's blinked at his revelation, suddenly understanding why he was more receptive to the plant employees.
“I worked the hours I do now, if not more. I had to do without readily available transportation, the family money and title, all the inherent luxuries of being the manager's son.” He continued without any trace of bitterness. “I had it far worse than the other employees, for I answered directly to Earl Ravensmoor, not a subordinate.”
“No soft ride?” She questioned.
“Most assuredly not,” his lips formed into a tight and forbidding line. “I labored diligently for every coin. I compensated my father for room and board, the expensive nanny, and tended to Anne at night. When funds were short, I applied for jobs about town and the neighboring shires. Shoveling a ditch for ten hours wasn't beneath me.”
&n
bsp; Kate was silent, absorbing the full impact of his words.
“It's a past I would prefer to keep from my daughter, to avoid hurting her.” He stated bitterly.
“Or make her think less of you?”
“Precisely.”
Kate sighed heavily. “As you said, we all do things in our youth, Dante.” His head dropped in resignation to her comment. “I don't think less of you.”
He looked at her, unable to believe her words. He had expected disgust, anger, repulsion, not the words she had mouthed into the silence of the night.
“How can that be?”
“It was the long-ago,” she answered with a shrug. “It isn't part of your life, now. You put that behind you and became the man you are today, all because of it.”
He was silent, uncertain of what to say.
“I have one more question.”
“What would that be?” He asked, his voice strained.
“Do you regret Anne?”
“Oh, God, never!” His response was heartfelt. “I've never regretted her. She's the most wonderful gift I could have received, no matter the consequences. I would never change what happened; I just choose not to be reminded of how I was.”
“Then let her know the truth.” Kate encouraged tenderly. “Leave out the….”
“Sordidness?”
“The unpleasantness,” she corrected firmly. “Give her the birth certificate, it's Anne's, by right. If she asks of her mother, tell her the truth. You don't remember the woman. Reassure her you love her and that will never change.”
Dante thrust himself roughly from the window frame. “Anne knows I love her.”
“She needs to be reassured that, though you can't give her a name, you'll always provide the love she needs.”
He chuckled softly. “When did you become sage?”
“I'm not wise, Dante.” She smiled at the flattery, noting the bleary edge to his gaze, caused by his tortured thoughts. “I just understand.”
Inquisitively, Dante peered at her, inhaling the familiar fragrance of her rose scented skin. His confounded senses tardily recognized her state of undress and he hardened, envisioning the silky skin beneath.
“Have I plunged from my lofty pedestal, Kate?” The sound of his throatily intoned words filled the air, a swirling mist of enticement apparent in each syllable. “Has the hideousness of my past diminished any of the esteem you may have held?”
“No.”
Her candidly issued response sent a tremor of unspoken relief running through him. She struggled to breathe, inhaling the spicy masculine scent radiating from him. Her body thrummed at his proximity and she swayed. Her heart thundered as his head lowered, the tip of his heated tongue grazing her lower lip and moistening the sensitive flesh.
A low-pitched moan escaped her at the tentative touch and her lids fluttered downwards, her body suffusing with an all too familiar flame. Her hands slipped from the pockets of her robe and settled on his shoulders as she tried to remain steady. Kate floundered to suck in a wisp of a strangled gasp as the pressure of his lips brushed her jaw, leaving behind a scintillating trail of fire.
Except for the gentle pressure of his mouth against her tender flesh, he didn't place a hand on her. Kate felt an uncontrollable restlessness arising within her as his hair brushed her face, the unhurried descent of his lips along her neck evoking exasperating quivers of arousal.
“Order me to stop, Kate.” The murmured words were urgently against her skin, hunger evident in each syllable. “Tell me to leave you well enough alone.”
Pulsating with need, Kate grasped at his shirt, her fingers twisting into the material as she rose to the tips of her toes. Dante exhaled deeply, the warmth of his breath inciting an excited chill to rise on her overly sensitized flesh.
“Stop me, Kate.” He groaned, the weak plea issued into her ear. “Stop me and I won't touch you.”
Kate clutched the thin material of his shirt more tightly, striving to draw him closer. The warmth of his chest came into hard contact with the soft rise and fall of her breasts beneath the terry cloth thickness of her robe.
A powerful surge of intense and all-encompassing heat shot through her at his touch and she gasped, unable to speak or entertain a coherent thought. He uttered the softest of triumphant chuckles as he bent into her, although he continued not to touch her with his hands.
A series of languid and feather light kisses, whispers of soft movements, trailed across her neck. Kate's head fell back, the arched length permitting him effortless access to the rapidly thundering pulse that betrayed her. His strong teeth nipped experimentally at the exposed length, cautious not mark the delicate paleness of her skin.
She groaned deep in her throat, rising up off the floor and shuddering, her grasp the sole reason she hadn't crumpled. His hair brushed her flaming cheek and Kate buried her face into the inky darkness. She savored the heady scent that rose to her inflamed senses, a spasm of unrepentant desire wracking her trembling body.
Ecstatically, Kate's eyes drifted shut with the sensations washing through her, her body pulsating. Her hands clutched, then fluttered, then seized at his shirt. The fine material became a mass of twisted, expensive cloth, tightly clenched in unspoken desperation between her fingers.
Sensing her uncontrolled desire, Dante pulled back, his face mere inches from her. Kate's heavy eyes opened, her thoughts dazed as she stared up at him. She had an abrupt impression of a fallen angel, regal and glorious beyond any conceivable uncertainty but with inescapable traces of wickedness discernible in the glittering shadows of his eyes. She trembled with need as she leaned into his firmness, her hands enmeshed in his shirt.
Her lids lowered, the thickness of her lashes fluttering as she pressed her lips to his unresisting mouth. She felt, rather than heard the rawness of the groan, emitted from deep within his chest. His lips parted hungrily at the uncertainty of hers and he bent into her proffered warmness, the heat of his brandy-scented mouth adeptly assuming control.
With infinite deliberation, he used the firm texture of his lips to tease apart the delicate petals and invade the warm confines concealed within. The tip of his tongue began a languid duel against hers, coaxing, and teasing as the pressure of his lips increased. Kate shuddered again, soft moans of acquiescence escaping as her hands fluttered uselessly against him. She was a melting mass of flesh, reacting ravenously to the seductive movement of his lips, craving to feel more than the gentle pressure he exerted on her mouth.
“Order me to stop, Kate.”
Yet again, the words were weak, aching with the unspoken need.
“I can't, Dante.”
“I won't permit you to walk away this time, Kate.” He growled as her hands traveled across the bareness of his heavily muscled chest. The coolness of her nearly weightless touch was a stark contrast to the heat he felt surging through him.
“I didn't walk away, the last time.” She dared to correct him, the unmistakable thudding of his heart evident beneath her fingertips.
She splayed her hands across his skin, detecting the slight acceleration of the pulse rate the minute action caused. He twitched, the silken material of his shirt shifting from his shoulders and slipping downwards before pooling on the floor. Kate gasped, a surge of desire rocking her as she marveled at the muscular body revealed.
“You're truly beautiful.” She mouthed to his absolute surprise, the unsteady tips of her fingers tracing his biceps. Her touch was slow, reverent, as if memorizing each pulsating nerve.
“Men aren't beautiful.” Dante exhaled a choked and muffled laugh, the tip of his tongue nervously moistening his lower lip. His head remained lowered, his lips inches from her upraised mouth, his eyes drifting shut to cloak the intense agony she was inflicting. She was unaware her touch was driving him to a sheer and fractious madness, each labored aspiration catching painfully within his throat.
She was in awe as she tentatively traced the outline of his collarbone. “You're magnificent.”
“Kate!”
Her name sounded suspiciously strangled to her ears and his body was wracked with a rapidly increasing misery. Celibacy was a self-imposed sentence that nearly drove him to the edge with need whenever Kate was near, when she so much as graced him with a smile. The scintillating trail of her fingers moved across his Adam's apple before touching the rapidly thundering pulse at his throat.
“Dear Lord, woman!”
His words were harsh, forced from him as he opened his eyes. Her attention lifted to his tortured features, a low and throaty growl erupting from him. Roughly, Dante grasped her hand and brought her fingers to his mouth. He pressed feather light kisses on the tip of each finger, sending a shuddering tremor of longing through her. His gaze remained locked with hers as his tongue slipped to her palm, seductively circling and performing a liquid trail of suggestive fire. Kate moaned deep in her throat, her heart in her ears as his teeth nipped at the tingling pad.
“You're lovely, Kate.” He expressed in a sultrily whispered voice that was hot against her skin, placing her small hand to the region of his thudding heart. His hand framed her upturned cheek as the other drew her to him.
He bent his head close, his finger caressing the tender lobe of her ear. The thickness of her robe slid from her shoulders, the material gaping wide as he pressed against her. The contact was electric, whisking words from her in a whoosh and causing her to arch against him.
The inaudible caress of his name dashed the last semblance of his rigorously controlled thoughts aside and inflamed him to an unspeakable level. His hand fell from her face and cupped her head, the other slipping about her waist, and grounding her against his body. The breath was crushed from her, and escape proved impossible.
“Do you realize what you do to me?” He inquired harshly, his voice becoming a throbbing remnant of the normally deep tones.
“No.”
“Permit me to demonstrate, Kate.” He implored, the immense muscles of his body trembling with the need he couldn't deny. She inflamed his senses, every nuance tormenting his hungry soul. He held her pinned in a possessive embrace that drove all reasonable sense of sanity and convention from her. He sighed her name before his mouth slanted across hers, stunning her into immobility with his tender assault, leaving her breathless.
My Lord Raven (The Ravensmoor Saga) Page 17
