Ecstasy

Chapter Sixteen

He came to her the next night and every night that week. They made love with passionate abandon, but Raven always insisted that Kell return to his own bedchamber. She was willing to give him her body, but nothing more intimate.

It disturbed her, however, that the line between Kell and her fantasy lover was becoming more and more blurred-and never more so than when Kell escorted her to a brothel.

Merely his offer surprised her.

“I think it’s time we furthered your education and introduced you to some genuine fantasies,” he said as they lay in bed after a particularly intense bout of lovemaking.

“What do you mean?” Raven murmured, enjoying the warmth of Kell’s hard body as she lay curled against him.

“Madame Fouchet’s salon is the most elegant sin club in London. It specializes in some unique pleasures of the flesh and excels at fulfilling fantasies. I mean to take you there. It will be an experience I doubt your imaginary lover could give you.”

Raising her head from his shoulder, Raven eyed Kell skeptically. “All this time I have been attempting to salvage my reputation, and you expect me to comport with you at a brothel?”

“Your reputation seems to be repairing itself well enough. And as a matron, you are no longer bound by the same restrictions you once were.”

“Even so…”

“Where is your spirit of adventure, love? Haven’t you conformed to propriety long enough?”

Raven had to admit that the forbidden allure of a brothel held an unmistakable appeal. Two nights later she found herself accompanying Kell up the steps of Madame Fouchet’s house of pleasure.

They were admitted to an antechamber by a majordomo and greeted by Madame Fouchet, who expressed delight at their patronage.

“All is arranged as you asked, Monsieur Lasseter,” the Frenchwoman said. “My house is yours. You have only to ring for whatever you require.”

“Thank you, madame.”

“I shall leave you to your pleasures, then.”

With a bow, she disappeared through a rear door, leaving Raven alone with Kell.

He led her through another door to a long hallway, explaining as he went. “The rooms on this floor are used for group affairs, but there are a number of bedchambers above that provide more seclusion.”

Raven noticed the quiet and suspected that it was unusual. “There seems to be no one else here.”

“Because I hired the place for the night.”

“The entire house?”

“Yes, to allow us privacy.”

It amazed her that Kell would have gone to such trouble and paid what undoubtedly was an exorbitant expense, and yet she was grateful he intended to keep their tryst private. She might be unconventional at heart, but the prospect of a group fantasy enticed her not at all.

“Ordinarily,” he continued, “clients select their partners for the evening and dress in appropriate costume. The Turkish harem is one of the prime entertainments.”

He paused at an alcove that had a small viewing window. Raven could smell the scent of incense as she stepped up to the glass. The exotic scene was of an Eastern palace, with swaths of filmy draperies and wisping smoke and silken cushions.

He led her to another alcove, but the viewing window was curtained, Raven saw as they entered the fantasy room through a door. This scene was lit by flaming torches and resembled the deck of a ship with railings and sails and a tall wooden mast.

“The pirate ship is also a favorite here. The clients dress up as pirates and take captive a ship of female passengers.”

Raven raised an eyebrow. “And what do they do with their captives?”

“What do you suppose?” Kell asked, flashing a provocative half smile. “Ravishment is quite a popular fantasy. Here a man can have his wicked way without consequence. And adventurous ladies can pay for the pleasure of being one of the captives.”

“I collect that I am to play the role of captive?”

“And I will be your pirate lover. You said your fantasy lover is a pirate, did you not?”

She nodded hesitantly, not certain she liked where this game could lead.

“Tell me, has your lover ever ravished you or threatened your virtue?”

Raven felt herself flush. “My fantasies are my own,” she replied, unwilling to answer.

“Not tonight, vixen. Tonight I will be your fantasy.”

He ushered her across the deck to a small door. Beyond was the captain’s cabin, Raven presumed. It was lit by flickering sconces and luxuriously appointed, unlike any real pirate ship she could imagine. Black satin sheets and red silk pillows embellished the large bunk, while gilt mirrors adorned the opposite wall.

On a peg hung a filmy garment, which Kell handed her. “Your costume, my sweet.”

Raven eyed the gossamer nightdress. “That fabric will be as revealing as wearing nothing at all.”

Kell’s wicked grin flashed again. “I believe that is precisely the point.”

On the captain’s desk lay a jeweled chest from which he withdrew a demimask. “For anonymity,” Kell explained, handing it to her. He also withdrew several gauzy scarves.

“What are those for?” she asked, although suspecting.

“For tying your wrists. Have you never indulged in bondage with your fantasy lover?”

Raven shook her head, and yet Kell’s suggestion didn’t shock her; there were several incidents of such erotic delights described in the journal.

“Then you can let your imagination run riot,” he said. Her uncertainty must have shown on her face, for he added in an amused voice, “Do you think I would hurt you?”

“No…not really.”

“Here, you will need these as well.”

He gave her the bag of sponges and left her to undress while he donned his own costume.

When she was attired in the diaphanous nightdress, Raven sat in the captain’s chair to wait. She was glad for the coal brazier that warmed the cabin, yet she found herself shivering, not because of the cold or her near nakedness. Despite her misgivings, the thought of the night to come was dangerously exciting.

Moments later her heart turned over when she looked up to see her pirate filling the doorway. He wore a billowing white shirt and tight black breeches and thigh-high boots, while a dagger was tucked into his sashed waist. The demimask concealed the upper part of his face, but she could make out Kell’s gleaming gaze as it roamed over her revealing nightdress.

“Stand up,” he commanded in a low voice. “Let me see what treasure my men have brought me.”

She rose slowly, her heart thudding in her chest as he boldly surveyed her, measuring her rose-hued nipples and the dusky curls crowning her thighs.

“Exquisite,” he said with a satisfied smile. Taking her elbow, he drew her toward the door. “You will come with me, captive.”

When she held back, he withdrew his dagger from his sash and held it menacingly to her throat. “Remember you are my prisoner, mademoiselle. I can have you thrown overboard in an instant.”

Uneasily Raven complied, telling herself she should enter into the spirit of the fantasy.

The pirate led her from the cabin and across the deck to the mast, where he turned her to face him. Sheathing his dagger, he forced her arms behind her and secured her to the timber with the scarves. Then he leaned forward to kiss her, pulling her lower lip between his teeth and nipping softly.

When she made a sound of protest, his hand went to her throat and held her still as he pressed his full length against her. He kissed her more thoroughly then, his tongue plunging deep while he moved his hips in a slow, rotating motion that made her pulse race.

Raven’s breath was coming in soft pants when he finally drew back. Reaching to his waist, he brandished the dagger again, startling her. With the point, he drew a slow line down the valley between her breasts. Then turning the blade, he deliberately sliced her nightdress from throat to hem, exposing her pale body to his view.

Raven couldn’t stifle a gasp.

“There is no use crying for help,” he chastised. “My crew does my bidding.”

The cool air caressed her naked skin, puckering her nipples. Raven wet her lips, staring at him. She was completely at his mercy. The knowledge made her tremble, even as it thrilled her.

He saw her convulsive shiver and smiled. Returning the dagger to his sash, he lifted the curtain of her hair, drawing the long tresses over her pouting breasts. He was playing with her, prolonging the moment, Raven knew.

“Such smooth, white skin,” he said in approval. He stroked his hand over the swelling mounds of her breasts, cupping the ripe fullness in his palms. “Such lush flesh.”

His fingers traced a circle around her jutting nipples, making her arch against the delicious sensation. “These ripe buds are just waiting for me to taste them.”

She bit her lower lip hard, trying not to respond as he pulled at the swollen crests. Yet shameful pleasure flared wherever he touched her.

“I think I will suck on your nipples until you come.” He bent his head, his breath hot and moist against her skin, sending liquid warmth coursing downward between her legs. Yet he didn’t kiss her. Instead his tongue barely flickered over the taut peaks.

Raven twisted against her bonds, fighting the keen sensations he was deliberately arousing in her.

A moment later he stood, a frown of disapproval drawing down the corners of his sensual mouth. “What, no response, my beauty? No matter. You will soon be begging me, offering me anything I choose to take.”

She raised her chin in defiance. “I will never beg.”

His smile was utterly devilish. “You will do as I say. If you are disobedient, I will give you to my men.”

“You wouldn’t,” she replied, although her tone held uncertainty.

“No,” he said, his voice husky. “I wouldn’t. I intend to keep you all to myself. I won’t share my treasure with any man. You are mine.”

Possessively, his palm covered her breast, then glided down the silken skin of her belly to her loins.

“Tell me, are you a virgin, mademoiselle?”

She hesitated before answering honestly. “No.”

“Excellent. The better for me to enjoy you. I am a man of strong appetites, and I am not easily appeased.”

He slid a probing finger between her thighs, along her wet, slippery cleft. Already it was pulsing eagerly.

“You’re very hot, mademoiselle, are you not?”

Raven arched her hips convulsively, feeling her bonds tighten in warning at her wrists.

“How easily aroused you are.”

One of his hands remained between her legs, while the other moved up to fondle her swelling, aching breasts. When he pinched her nipple, a needy whimper escaped her lips.

“Be silent, captive,” he ordered. “You mustn’t scream, or my men might come to watch. You don’t want them to see you naked and helpless like this, do you?”

Raven swallowed her moan, yet the thought of his lusty, rugged crew seeing her ravishment roused a shameless throbbing heat between her legs.

“Good, you know who is your master.” His indulgent, arrogant smile made her blood boil and race at the same time.

“You must remain completely still, or I won’t satisfy you.”

He was teasing her, making her wait, and the delay excited her beyond bearing. She strained against his hand, shamelessly seeking his penetration.

“I said be still! You will obey me if you want me to take you.” His fingers thrust inside her a mere inch and then stopped. “Do you want me to take you, captive?”

She drew a long shuddering breath. “Yes,” she said through gritted teeth.

“Then you will beg me.”

“I won’t.”

“We shall see how long you resist when I put my mouth on you.”

Going down on one knee, he parted her thighs and pressed his lips to her sleek folds, seeking the point of feminine pleasure. Raven sucked in a sharp breath, her legs instinctively parting even more.

His long tongue lapped at her slowly, thoroughly, rasping against her sensitized flesh until she burned with frenzy.

“Are you ready to beg me yet?” he asked at length, his voice husky.

Wildly excited, she squirmed against his assault. His hands moved to clasp her buttocks and hold her still, his tongue and lips and teeth ruthlessly pleasuring her.

“Are you?” he demanded.

“Yes…please, yes! I beg you…”

She writhed in helpless rapture as, with a final hard kiss, he dredged a shattering climax from her. Wanton cries of delight rippled from her throat until the fiery waves of sensation ebbed and she sagged limply against the mast.

“Perhaps next time you will be more obedient,” he remarked, his husky murmur holding a note of triumph.

Rising, he took a step backward. Through her haze of pleasure Raven watched as he unbuttoned the straining placket of his breeches and released his phallus, already massive and darkly engorged.

“My cock is hungry for you. Are you hungry for it? Do you want to feel it sliding up inside your pretty, quivering flesh?”

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 preferred 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.