My Lord Raven (The Ravensmoor Saga)

by Tamela Quijas

  “Speak of the devil.” The woman continued with unexpected flourish, although her features did soften as she eyed Dante.

  “Leave it be, Angelica.” He voiced the words with deceptive softness, his features tight. Kate paused as she heard the name he uttered, realizing the woman was Dante's former spouse.

  “Ah, Dante,” Angelica purred his name seductively, the effect ruined as she swayed on her feet. “It’s so nice to see you….filled out.”

  Angelica's previously prodding fingertip trailing insidiously down over Dante's chest. Impatiently, he shoved her hand aside, his disgust evident.

  “You weren’t invited.” He pointed out brutally, grasping her wrist. She winced, slightly bending at the knees, as Anne came to his side.

  “She wasn't invited, Papa.” Anne interrupted, placing her hand on her father's arm. Her eyes spoke volumes and Dante, slowly, flung the woman's hand aside.

  “My, my, my,” Angelica repeatedly mouthed the word as she straightened, running brightly painted nails over the snug fit of her designer slacks. “It does appear the ugly duckling has grown into a swan.”

  The comment wasn't a compliment. A protective urge surged through Kate and, automatically, she rose to the girl's defense.

  “My, my, my,” Kate mimicked icily, imitating the precise British accent of the woman. “I don't think there are enough tanning salons, or plastic surgery available, to cure the ugliness in your soul.”

  As soon as the words were spoken, Kate felt her face flame, unable to believe she had actually uttered the first phrase that had leapt into her head. There was a titter of laughter and snickers behind her, and Anne flashed a grateful but strangled smile.

  Anne's friends rushed to her side, their expressions pained, although the chubbier one did grant Kate a cheeky wink. Kate noticed the slender blonde wiped the glistening sheen of shamed tears from her face before she spoke.

  “I'm truly sorry, Your Lordship.” Megan managed, her words issued in a stumbling rush. “She's my uncle's new wife. I didn't know.”

  “Lord Hugh is married to this witch?” Dante inquired, indicating Angelica's statuesque form with a wave of his hand.

  “As of last month,” she provided beneath her breath and nodded, twisting her hands nervously.

  “Give your uncle my condolences, Megan.” Dante offered, his expression lightening as Williams' approached him.

  “Do you wish for the riff-raff to be removed?” Williams inquired in his usual unflappable and clipped tones. Using an imperious tilt of his chin, he indicated the former mistress of Colinwood.

  Dante lifted a brow to Megan. He sensed the girl's mortification and his heart went out to her. He didn't wish her to suffer the vile outrage he knew would spew from Angelica's lips, if forced to return to the girl's humble abode.

  “Williams, have her escorted out.” He commanded quietly, his words filled with a loathing Kate had never heard before tonight.

  “You can't do this to me, Dante.” Angelica sputtered, grasping at the material of his shirt and attempting to pull him to her. He resisted, yanking away from her cloying touch. “I was the lady here, at one time.”

  “You were never a lady, Angelica.” He responded tersely, the pounding pulse returning to his jaw.

  “You can't do this to me!” Her voice rose to a shriek. Dante turned to Williams and lifted a brow.

  “I've already summoned the constable, Sir.”

  Dante afforded the trusted man a brief nod of his head before he turned back to Kate, only to realize she had vanished into the crowd.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Kate sat in a wingback chair by her bedchamber window, an indefinable anger flowing from her every pore, threatening to ignite the darkened countryside below. She was short of breath, having flown up the stairs and gasped, her heart thudding and her cheeks hot.

  Damn the irritating and underhanded man! She thought ungraciously and rested her chin resting on her balled fist.

  Dante had deliberately strung her along and she had fallen willing victim to his whiskey smooth words and the enticing. He made her love him, causing her to place her trust in him where trust wasn't deserved.

  Feeling confused and ill-used, Kate bit back an angry exclamation and rose, pacing the darkened room. She ached with an indescribable pain, a combination of green-eyed jealousy and betrayal, unfamiliar emotions that tore at her very soul.

  She stood at the window, staring across the fields, desperately seeking the spire of the distant church steeple. She heaved and infuriated breath just seconds before she detected the opening of her chamber door,

  “Have you chosen to abandon me, my sweet?” He stepped into the room, his expression serious as he firmly closed the door.

  Kate's chin rose and she folded her arms across her breasts. She turned from the nonexistent view provided by the windows, her jaw tight. Her eyes sought and found the subject of her thoughts and her breath caught in her throat. Dante's boldly faced her as he crossed the room, his expression one of curiosity.

  “You aren't in my bed, sweet Kate.” His stated the obvious and his resonant tones unsettled her. With slow deliberateness, he undid the long length of buttons on his dark shirt and Kate felt her breath whisk from her at his marked nonchalance.

  Despite her anger, the seductiveness of his actions had the same effect on her night after night. She would watch him from beneath the fringe of her lashes as he disrobed, savoring each stolen moment as he revealed solid contours and rippling muscles. Presently, Kate was decidedly dry mouthed as he discarded the soft fabric of his shirt carelessly into an untidy heap on the matching wing backed chair by fireplace.

  Despising her weakness, she pulled her shoulders back and her chin shot up defiantly.

  “I choose not to spend the night in your bed.” She declared with an angrily hissed whisper and he paused to face her, his bare feet planted firmly on the rug. A dark scowl marred his handsome features and his face seemed to stain with an obvious heightening of color.

  “Why in the bloody hell not, Kate?” He snapped harshly. Dante's body tensed with the words and she nearly forgot her purpose, her eyes traveling to the broad expanse of his chest. Her damnably betraying and hungry gaze lingered on the rippling expanse before sinking hungrily down to the snug waist of his pants. Need shot through her at the irresistible image he presented and she felt the persistent sensation of desire only he could fulfill.

  “That should be obvious.” She retorted, dry mouthed. She was unaware of the image she presented, glorious in her anger, her arms folded across her chest. She had chosen not to occupy his bed this night, a blow more intense she couldn't have dealt. He inhaled, his eyes closing as he attempted to control the unaccountable emotions filling him. Forcing himself to calm, Dante's gaze fell to the soft swell of her breasts and his rationality faded as he felt his arousal shift uncomfortably.

  “I fail to see why.”

  “Precisely,” she quipped scathingly, the word trembling with emotion as she borrowed his retort. “You fail to see a lot, Dante. First of all, you failed to have your sneaky staff remove the damn portrait from the ballroom!”

  “I would never move the lady from her place of honor.” Dante retorted more harshly than he intended.

  “You failed to tell me why you wanted me to come to England!”

  “I required your capable services, Kate.” He provided easily, although his words were tight.

  “You strung me along, like a fool!”

  “Ah, darling,” he smiled contritely, sensing the hurt in her words. “You're the brightest star in my offices.”

  “Will you stop attempting to placate me?” She snapped angrily. “You lied from the start!”

  “I admit I've been a bit underhanded.” He admitted ruefully. Dante shrugged, his broad shoulders moving with the action, unconsciously emphasizing the play of muscle. He didn't move from where he stood and witnessed her pained wince.

  “A bit?” She choked.

  “Perhaps,”
he conceded, the need to comfort her overwhelming.

  “I may have coerced you to stay at my estate.”

  “Why?”

  “In all honesty?” He asked, his scowl dark. She wouldn't be pleased with his answer, but he'd come too far to risk having her slip from his side. “I would part oceans to have you.”

  “Have me? You only wanted me because I resemble a portrait of your ancestor!” Kate was as angry as the winter wind buffeting the coast and he hadn't suspected less from her. Although her voice was calm, never rising the slightest as she spat her accusation at him, he knew and understood.

  “It is merely a portrait, my sweet Kate. There's not a painting in this world equal to your beauty.” He stated truthfully. The deep baritone of his voice thickened with unspoken emotion, the inflection of his voice heavy.

  “Why all the lies?” She spat, noting the grayness creeping under his tan.

  “It wasn't my intention to mislead you, Kate.” Dante responded remorsefully, the set of his lips grim as tears sparkled in her eyes.

  “Why?” The tremor of unshed tears was evident in her tone. “Did I amuse you?”

  “Ah, sweet Kate, stop!” He demanded in a pained but booming voice, causing her to wince.

  “Will you lower your voice?” She hissed tearfully.

  “Damn it all, Kate!” He cursed thickly, although he did comply. “Perhaps I'm guilty.”

  “You misled me!”

  He threw his hands up in frustration, before forcing them down to his sides. “Yes, I'm guilty!”

  “Really?” The pain in her voice was undeniable, across the expanse of the chamber. “Why? That's all I want to know. Why?”

  “Damn it! Believe whatever you wish, woman!” He snapped, clearly irritated as he moved across the room, his steps silent. He circled her briefly, his gaze absorbing every inch of her taunt form and her mutinous expression. He halted, his body rigid, his scent filling her alert senses, the intense warmth of his body radiating toward her chilled flesh.

  “Why?” She nearly choked the words, her heart aching, before she steeled herself against the beauty of his image. Kate wanted to cry, scream, and throw something at him for the turmoil she felt. “I trusted you!”

  “Do you really wish to know, Kate?” Her hands fell limply to her sides as he edged closer. She closed her eyes against him, attempting to banish his burnished features from her mind. She shuddered, inhaling his spicy scent, and feeling her knees weaken.

  “Was it simply the lust?” She questioned weakly, her body quivering with an all too familiar sensation only he could invoke. Her eyes opened slowly, afraid of the revelation evident on his face.

  “Lust?” Dante threw his head back as he repeated the word with obvious disgust. His eyes narrowed as his gaze returned to her, skimming over her flaming features before lowering to the shirt she wore. “You believe all that exists between us is lust?”

  “It couldn't be anything else.” She responded, her heart heavy within her breast. “Any woman who looks at you is overwhelmed.”

  This brought an ironic laugh from deep within his aching chest. His heart felt ready to explode, her words causing him so much pain.

  “Remind me to ask O'Toole if I send her into uncontrollable rapture whenever she spies my massive form.” He snarled his jaw tightening as he straightened to his full and towering height. “Perhaps, I should ask her if she would desire to lave every drop of water from my body the next time I emerge from the shower.”

  “You play dirty.” Kate felt the stinging rush of blood rise to her face and hotly suffuse her body, for she had done the precise action the night prior.

  “Ah, my sweet, I'm incapable of understanding the word play.” He responded, his words deceptively soft and escaping him in a threatening purr. “My father found my idea of play something not to be encouraged.”

  “Dante….” She stammered as he reached for her. “Please.”

  “Stop me, my dear.” He encouraged, although the softness had disappeared from his tone, replaced with a business like chill she heard only at the office.

  “I….”

  “Shall I demonstrate my methods of play?” He quizzed sarcastically, interrupting her. She stood, unable to lift a finger in protest as one heavy hand undid the buttons of her shirt. Easily, the silky material fell to the floor at her feet. “Shall I stop, Kate?”

  “Dante, please,” the words tangled in her throat, her tongue too thick to pronounce the syllables.

  “You accused me of succumbing to lust.”

  One brow rose as his fingers trailed up the length of her pale arm, noting her inability to move and the fine chill that graced the soft skin. His expression became grim as the memories of his past rose to the forefront of his agile mind. He hadn't succumbed to the sordidness of lust in many a year.

  “I remember lust, my sweet. Perhaps, I find yours acceptable.”

  “I don't, Dante.” Her words were weak, trembling from her numb lips as he captured the thin strap of her bra between his fingers and gave an experimental tug. She felt the blood roar through her body, pulsating in her ears and then chilling her body. The thin strap resisted minutely before snapping in his grip.

  “Don't you, Kate?” He questioned throatily, his gaze never left her flushed features as the rounded globe of one full breast was exposed to his view. He inclined his head, the warm breath brushing her face. Incapable of moving, her body hummed at his nearness, his presence overwhelming. Her lids lowered, heavy with desire as his fingertips traced the burgeoning tip of her nipple. She gasped aloud, arching toward him as stepped back, her body seeking the promise of his touch. “Are we succumbing to such a distasteful emotion as lust, my sweet Kate?”

  His words were tightly issued, laced with bitterness as he slipped his arm about her waist. She shuddered at the contact, her body melting as her mind protested. She was drugged by his touch, her mouth conspicuously dry. Incapable of speech, her heartbeat intensified with each passing second.

  “Have you lost your train of thought, my dear?” He questioned brutally, noting the quickening of breath and the rapidly dilating irises of her eyes. His hand slid across her collarbone, his touch whisper soft as he sought the remaining strap of her brassiere. Effortlessly, he snapped the thin cord, his breath escaping him in a whoosh as he bared the fullness of her breasts.

  Kate groaned, her hands rising to his chest. The contact was electric, her mind filling with a deluge of words and images that jumbled as they flitted through her numb thoughts. Her heart echoed with heavy thuds, adapting a personality of its own despite the protests lodged somewhere within her throat. She didn't feel simply lust for this man, although his was enough to driving any woman to madness. She was inescapably entranced by him, bewitched by his presence, and madly in love. Lust was an excuse to mask the sensations shooting through her every moment she was near him.

  “Lust, my dear?” He repeated the words as if they were an insult to the highest degree. His calloused fingers skimmed her stomach, seeking and deftly undoing the fastening of her jeans. Skillfully, he wound his long leg behind her calf and Kate tumbled to the floor. The fear of impact was nonexistent, as she remained firmly held in the grove of his arm. Dante eased after her, his gaze intent, his expression grim as he eased her pants from her legs.

  “Lust,” she repeated dazedly, staring up at him.

  “You, in your innocence, don't comprehend the meaning of the word.” Dante's whiskey soft words were a subtle caress against her skin as he leaned over her pliant body.

  “I'm not innocent. I know what it means.” She managed with great difficulty. Her hands remained on the firm lines of his chest, the fingertips tingling with the contact of his heated flesh.

  “You were innocent the first night I took you to my bed, Kate, as innocent as fresh fallen snow.” He pointed out, his fingertips continuing a fan like dance across her twitching skin. “Not any more, my love. You've become a wanton since that night.”

  “I have not!”
She denied, although the whispered words were weak, his accusations holding a wealth of truth. “I know the meaning of lust!”

  “You don't know, my dear. You simply understand, every time you look at me, you want me.” He laughed harshly. “I know you, my sweet. I can read every thought that flits through your mind.” He stilled her protest, his fingertips grazing her lips. “When I'm near you, Kate, you're incapable of reasonable thought.”

  Her breath escaped her in a panting gasp. He was wicked, capable of a cruelty far worse than any anger she was capable of drawing forth. He'd been capable of reading her from the beginning, knowing every thought and desire.

  Worse, she realized, Dante put his words into action as she remained beneath him. His hand slid over her body, grazing the tips of her peaking nipples, the buds to tighten painfully. She gasped, nearly choking as she inhaled, the calloused pad of his thumb hooking into the delicate fabric of her underwear. Roughly, he pulled until the fabric gave way, tearing wide with his touch.

  Kate made a futile attempt to draw her legs upward, desperate to conceal her nakedness from the heat of his darkening gaze. A low and menacing growl rose from his throat and she stared at him in amazement.

  Dante lowered his head, the tip of his tongue tracing small circles across the swollen crest of her breast. Painfully, she arched upwards, granting him free access, her breathing strangled. He issued a sound that reminded her roughly of a satisfied purr of a great cat before she his teeth grazed her skin, lightly nipping at the tender fresh. Kate's head flew backwards, savoring the feel of him brushing across her body, the trailing caress of his tongue moving across the fluttering muscles of her stomach.

  It was Kate's turn to growl with passion. Her hands slid across the bulging muscles of his shoulders and twined into his thick hair. She struggled with maddening emotions, her hips thrusting hungrily upwards as his chin grazed her trembling inner thighs. She felt his fingers graze the apex of her womanhood, seeking the swollen bud concealed within, unerringly tracing the damp folds.