Ecstasy

Chapter Twenty-one

Raven paused at the library door, trying to summon the courage to enter. She’d seen nothing of Kell during the past two hours, and her disquiet only increased with each moment he avoided her.

He stood at the French windows now, his back to her, and stared out at the icy landscape. He’d changed his attire, and his impeccable chocolate coat and buff breeches gave no indication he had just fought a battle to the death.

Her own physical circumstances had improved as well. The servants had found her clothing that, while simple, was warm and dry. And her raw wrists had been bandaged. Yet no salve could ease the pain in her heart.

She felt drained, aching, filled with sorrow. Not for Sean, but for Kell. She found it hard to mourn Sean’s death overmuch after his heinous acts. But she grieved for Kell.

He looked so remote, so unapproachable, so achingly alone.

As she watched him, Raven felt her eyes blur with tears. She had been so blind. She loved Kell.

It had stunned her to realize the truth. Shaken her to think he could have died without ever knowing how deeply she cared. Yet she couldn’t tell him now. Kell wouldn’t want to hear of her feelings, not when he was so devastated by his brother’s death.

She might never be able to tell him and discover if he could possibly ever love her in return. Would Sean’s death forever shadow their lives? His vengeful brother might have destroyed any hope of love between them.

As if sensing her presence, Kell glanced over his shoulder, surveying her bruised cheek, the abraded skin at her throat, her bandaged wrists. A shadow passed over his eyes. “Are you all right?”

“Yes,” she lied, wanting to reassure him.

“I regret that I let him hurt you,” he said, his voice low and raw.

I regret more that he hurt you, Raven thought. “Bruises heal, Kell. And you could not have known what he would do.”

Kell locked his jaw, his expression one of sheer pain. “I promised to protect you. I promised to protect him.”

She felt the despair in him, saw it in the bleakness of his eyes, before he turned back to the window.

Raven took a step toward him. She wanted desperately to hold him, to console him, but she wasn’t sure where to begin.

“You tried your best, Kell,” she said at last. “Sean didn’t want to be saved. He…he wanted an end to his torment.”

Kell made no response, but his silence was rife with anguish.

She moistened her dry lips. “You can’t hold yourself to blame. You couldn’t be expected to sacrifice your life for your brother’s.”

“No?” he asked softly. He bowed his head.

Tears stinging her eyes, Raven looked down at her clasped hands. Her heart was breaking for him. His pain, his absolute aloneness, made her ache inside. His grief was a gaping, bleeding wound, one she couldn’t heal.

Unbidden, she felt a fierce surge of renewed anger at William Lasseter. He had ravaged Kell’s life almost as savagely as he had shattered Sean’s.

Staunchly she swallowed the rawness in her throat and tried again. “Kell, there was nothing more you could have done.”

“I could have done more to help him. I should have done more.”

“He would not allow you to. Sean wanted to die, Kell. He gave you no choice.”

“He did give me a choice.” Kell’s voice was no more than a whisper. “I chose you.”

The edge of bitterness in his tone struck her like a blow. He blamed her for Sean’s death? She couldn’t refute the charge, certainly. Their marriage had indeed led to Sean’s demise, at least indirectly. If she hadn’t come between the two brothers, Sean would still be alive. If Kell had never wed her in the first place…

“Do you hate me?” she asked, the question dredged from her throat.

“No. Not you.” His reply was so quiet, she wondered if she could believe him.

“I hate myself,” he added. “I can’t forgive myself.”

“Kell…”

He held up a hand, as if he couldn’t bear to listen to another word.

Kell was flaying himself with guilt, Raven knew. He wouldn’t accept her comfort. She couldn’t heal his hurt. Nor could she defend herself if he held her to blame for his brother’s tragic end.

At least Kell wouldn’t be charged with murder. There had been witnesses to Sean’s death; a half a dozen servants could attest to the fight between the brothers. There was sure to be an investigation into Michael O’Malley’s murder, though, and in all likelihood, Sean would be exposed as the groom’s killer.

It was even possible the truth about their uncle’s death would eventually come out. She doubted Kell would volunteer the information. He wouldn’t reveal Sean’s crimes to the world. He would continue letting everyone think him a murderer.

But now wasn’t the time to argue with him over such remote possibilities.

His next words, however, filled her with dread. “I want you to go home, Raven. I will have my carriage return you to London.”

Her hand stole to her stomach, pressing there, trying to quell the disquiet roiling inside her. “You won’t come with me?”

“No. I can’t.”

“What will you do, then?”

“I need to find Sean’s body…make arrangements for his burial. I suppose I will take him back to Ireland. Perhaps his soul can find peace there.”

And will you ever find peace? Raven wanted to ask. “And after that…?”

“I don’t know.”

Perhaps her dread was unfounded, she tried to tell herself. Possibly Kell only needed time to grieve for his brother. Time to deal with his own devils, his guilt and regret.

Or perhaps it was more ominous. He might be sending her away because he wanted nothing more to do with her. Despite his often brusque demeanor, Kell was a gallant man. He wouldn’t tell her if he couldn’t bear the sight of her.

Kell turned then and moved toward her. Raven held her breath, but he didn’t pause. Without a word, without even a glance, he brushed past her and left the room.

She bent her head, trying not to cry. Perhaps Sean had won after all, even in death.

Raven shivered violently. She didn’t think she would ever be warm again.

She returned to London alone, as Kell wished. The journey was almost as wretched as her last one, when she’d been at the mercy of a madman, but this time her misery was not physical. The pain and fear she’d experienced during the grueling hours of her abduction couldn’t possibly compare to the torment in her heart now, for Raven couldn’t shake the conviction that she had lost Kell.

When she arrived in London, it was to face a full-blown scandal. The murder of her groom, her own abduction, the death of her brother-in-law, her husband’s apparent abandonment-none of that could be quietly swept under the carpet.

She had few allies to console her, either, for her closest friends were still away. Brynn had retired to the Wycliff family seat with Lucian for the final months of her confinement, although Lucian’s work at the Foreign Office would require his frequent presence in London. Dare reportedly was following his rakish pursuits in the north.

Only Raven’s aunt Catherine remained in town, and that outraged elderly lady washed her hands of her niece entirely in a scene that three months ago would have set Raven trembling with rage herself. Yet now she couldn’t bring herself to care about her aunt’s defection.

Emma called several times to offer sympathy and support, but the hostess had suddenly become remarkably busy due to the gaming hell’s new notoriety. The Golden Fleece was now all the rage among the ton’s fast set; everyone with any pretense to fashion wanted to be seen there.

Raven thought it best to avoid the gaming hell, for her presence would only stir the scandal further. Besides, the club would bring too many painful memories of Kell.

She’d been dismayed to realize that she loved him, that she had been blindly denying her feelings all this time. She had tried to keep him at a distance, to protect herself with indifference so she wouldn’t be vulnerable to the terrible hurt love could offer. But she had failed miserably. And now, when she had finally understood her own heart, it might be too late.

She wanted desperately to believe that Kell had sent her away because he needed to be alone. That once he’d laid his brother’s tormented soul to rest, his own could begin to heal. But when no word came from him, Raven began to realize she was willfully deceiving herself, that perhaps he truly couldn’t forgive her for his brother’s death.

At least she had another concern to distract her two days after her return, for her grandfather arrived in a show of support. The journey proved a severe strain on Lord Luttrell’s health, as did his anxiety over her. Even though Raven baldly lied and assured him that she was perfectly fine, he continued to fret-voicing distress that she moped around the house all day yet understanding why she dared not show her face in public.

She couldn’t bring herself to ride, either. O’Malley had always been her escort and protector on her early morning rides, and her one excursion to the park with a different groom made her grief all the more piercing. She made certain her horses were properly exercised, but other than periodically visiting O’Malley’s grave, where he’d been buried in a quiet funeral service, she remained indoors.

A fortnight later Lord Luttrell was still fretting over her. He tried to persuade Raven to accompany him to East Sussex, but she wanted to remain in London in case Kell should return unexpectedly.

When her grandfather finally left, however, she was alone again. The days continued to crawl by and still she heard nothing from Kell. The house felt so empty without him. She felt so empty.

Her fantasy lover couldn’t even comfort her, for she no longer wanted her pirate; she only wanted Kell.

The city began to thaw from the cruel winter, but the chill in her soul wouldn’t abate. She started a dozen letters to him, only to tear them all up. What could she possibly say?

Kell wouldn’t want to hear of her love. He had wed her in the first place only to assuage his conscience, and to save his brother from her family’s retribution. And now his brother was dead. His grief would undoubtedly overshadow any tender feelings he held for her.

Even if Kell eventually came to terms with his grief, even if he didn’t hate her or blame her for her role in the tragedy, Sean’s death might be too much for him to overcome, for he would forever associate his loss with her. She would always be a reminder of his guilt.

She wished Kell would write to her, wished he would give her some inkling of what he was thinking. She desperately wanted to end the dread and uncertainty gnawing at her. She didn’t even know if he was all right, or if he had gone to Ireland as intended. He had shut her out of his life completely.

Spring had at last showed signs of emerging when Raven found the courage to ask Emma what she knew of Kell’s plans.

Inviting the beautiful hostess to call on her, Raven forced herself to wait until tea had been served before blurting out the question that had been hounding her. “Have you by chance had any word from Kell?”

Emma lowered her gaze, looking almost embarrassed. “To be truthful, I have.”

Raven felt a hollow ache in her chest. “Is he in Ireland?”

For a moment the hostess gave her a surprised look. “Yes, at his horse farm there. I thought you knew.”

“No. He hasn’t contacted me.” She felt herself trembling and averted her gaze. “Do you know when he means to return to London?”

“Raven, I…I am not certain if he ever means to return. Kell has directed his solicitors to sell the club to me…or rather to Halford.”

Raven stared, trying to absorb Emma’s disturbing announcement. Kell didn’t mean to return to London?

“The Duke of Halford?” she said finally.

Emma’s mouth curved in a faint smile. “It does seem farfetched. But Halford is actually a very kind man,” she said, echoing the same words Raven had once used to describe the duke. “He is purchasing the club for me.”

Raven bit her lip to keep it from quivering.

“I am so sorry, Raven. I can only imagine that Kell wants to be rid of the Fleece because of the painful memories it holds for him.”

“No, you shouldn’t be sorry, Emma,” she murmured. “You aren’t to blame in the least if Kell…” She pressed her fingers to her eyes.

“Are you all right?”

Shaking herself, Raven raised her chin. “Yes, I’m splendid. Why don’t you tell me about your plans for the club? You say Halford is funding its purchase? That must mean you and he are getting along famously.”

Emma’s smile was bashful this time, but she was clearly pleased with her relationship to the duke and by her prospects in the gaming world. Raven was happy for her, and yet she could scarcely keep her mind on the conversation, her heart was in such turmoil.

When Emma finally took her leave, Raven sat staring sightlessly at the floor. Kell didn’t intend to return.

Had he even planned to tell her? If he cared for her at all, he would have disclosed something so crucial as his intentions to abandon his London life, not left it for her to discover secondhand. What more proof did she need that he didn’t want her in his future?

She pressed a hand to her mouth to hold back a sob. He did blame her for what had happened to his brother after all. He clearly wanted nothing more to do with her. There was no hope for her.

Moments later, however, her emotions careened from despair to anger at her own stupidity. She’d done exactly what she vowed she would never do: follow in her mother’s footsteps. She’d fallen hopelessly in love with a man whose heart she couldn’t have-and brought herself more pain than she’d even thought possible.

Dashing away the burning tears, Raven leapt to her feet.

She would not be like her mother! She would not! Wasting her life, pining away for a man. She had to elude that terrible fate at all costs. She had to do something, anything to avert that future.

Feeling like a caged animal, she began to pace the room. She had to act. She couldn’t remain here any longer, that much was becoming obvious. Everywhere she went, she was reminded of Kell. If she had any hope of forgetting him, of learning to live without him, she would have to break all ties with him. She would have to leave London.

But where in God’s name could she go? Her grandfather would take her in, of course, but even at his country estate, she wouldn’t be able to escape her memories of Kell-or her pain.

Perhaps she would do better to leave England altogether. Her life here was ruined anyway. She could go somewhere and start over. Somewhere warm, somewhere her heart would not be ravaged every moment of every day.

Somewhere without Kell.

Scalding tears filled her eyes again. Perhaps that would be best for Kell as well. If she left him, she would give him grounds to dissolve the marriage he had never wanted in the first place. He was wealthy enough to initiate the outrageously expensive proceedings for divorce…

Her tears fell harder. She would no longer have claim to his name, then, or his title. And a divorced woman was even more scandalous than a bastard. But what difference did it make what the world thought of her if she couldn’t have Kell?

Raven buried her face in her hands and wept.

Once she had resolved on a plan, Raven was almost desperate to implement it. She saw no reason to postpone her departure. And the sooner she left England, the sooner she could begin to forget Kell and get on with her life.

Her grandfather would not be happy with her decision, Raven knew. Yet she had already failed him by becoming embroiled in yet another scandal. She would simply have to make him understand that she couldn’t bear to remain any longer.

Her destination would be the isle of Montserrat, where she had grown up. She would be most comfortable there, for she still had numerous friends and acquaintances in the British West Indies, and it would be warm there. She could purchase a small house overlooking the ocean and live quietly.

The largest barrier to her plan was that England was still engaged in a fierce conflict with America, which made sailing on the high seas perilous. When she made inquiries of the various commercial shipping companies about travel schedules, she was disheartened to learn there were no passenger ships scheduled to depart for the West Indies for several weeks.

Fortunately, Lucian returned to London just then. The earl owned a substantial merchant fleet, and when he realized she was completely serious about returning to the Caribbean, Lucian insisted on lending one of his armed ships for the journey.

With his guidance, Raven set her departure for the following week and then began putting her affairs in order, beginning with writing good-byes to her friends and relatives.

Her grandfather’s reply came almost at once:

Your decision pains me greatly, my dearest girl, but I won’t attempt to change your mind, for I know the difficulties you would face should you remain here as an outcast.

I shall miss you more than I can say. Thank you for adding joy to my life these past months. For whatever it is worth, you have my blessing.

She sent Dare’s letter to his London home, asking that it be forwarded to him.

Her letter to Brynn was hand-delivered to the country by Lucian, and Brynn responded at once, saying that she would return to London to say farewell in person.

Raven called on her aunt, driven by common courtesy and the vague desire to make peace if she could. She expected to be refused, however, and was surprised when Lady Dalrymple actually received her.

“It is for the best,” the elderly lady said, agreeing with Raven’s decision to leave England. “You can no longer show your face in polite company, and you would only be miserable.”

Raven bit back the retort on her lips-that her misery would have nothing to do with being repudiated by the elite society she’d always aspired to. That she realized how little their acceptance meant to her now. Instead she changed the subject, expressing concern over how her grandfather would deal with her absence.

Halford, much to her surprise, called on Raven when he heard the news. His manner toward her was far more congenial than in past interviews. He still hadn’t completely forgiven her for jilting him, but Emma was providing him consolation.

“I can never wed her, given what I owe to my title, but she is a comfort to me,” Halford said with unexpected cheerfulness. He regarded Raven with a wistful smile. “Strange how events have turned out.”

“Yes, strange indeed,” Raven murmured, preferring not to reflect on regrets or might-have-beens.

Her letter to Kell was the hardest to compose, and she saved it for last. In it, she expressed sorrow for his loss of his brother and regret for ever involving Kell in her life. And she clearly stated her wish for a divorce. She posted the letter two days before she was due to depart. By the time he received it in Ireland, Raven knew, she would have sailed.

Her final two days were spent packing and settling final details. Her maid, Nan, had chosen to accompany her to the Caribbean, so she would have companionship on the long voyage. Her biggest concern was for her horses, but Halford offered to take them into his most excellent stables so Raven could rest easy.

Otherwise she concentrated on keeping herself too busy to feel or dwell on the grief that was throbbing inside her like a wound.

It touched her that the Lasseter servants seemed as if they would genuinely miss her. And surprisingly, quite a number of her friends called on her to say farewell.

On Tuesday evening she dined with Brynn and Lucian at their London residence and returned to a quiet house. There was nothing more for her to do. The Wycliffs planned to see her off on her voyage tomorrow. Her trunks had already been conveyed to the docks, and she would board in the afternoon and sail with the evening tide.

She would have liked to say good-bye to Dare, but he was evidently still away from town, for she’d received no word from him.

She prepared for bed that night with an aching heart. When she lay down to sleep, though, she forced herself to shut her eyes and ignore her tormenting thoughts of Kell.

On the morrow she would turn her back on England, where she had known such happiness and heartbreak. She would put the past behind her and embark on her new life. And she would do her damnedest to forget Kell Lasseter-if she only could.

He came to her that night, her fantasy lover. Naked, he stretched out beside her on the bed, his hand slowly sweeping her body, stroking, cupping her breast.

When she flinched at his touch, though, he rose above her, staring down with hot intensity. Questions filled his dark eyes, then pain as he realized the truth. He wasn’t welcome.

She turned away without speaking.

“So this is good-bye?” he whispered, his voice hoarse. “You are sending me away?”

“I’m sorry.”

His hand cradled her cheek, turning her face back to his. His fingertips brushed her lips with heartrending gentleness. “Your sorrow is not for me. You have no need of me any longer. You need him. You love him.”

“Yes, heaven help me. I love him.”

“But you cannot have him. Or his love.”

“No.” She lowered her head, meaning to bury her face against his hard chest, but gave a start as she met only empty air. He had faded away.

She squeezed her eyes shut. The longing inside her was like a knife blade, sharp, searing, unbearable. She could only hope that someday, in time, the pain would fade to a distant memory and become as illusionary as her imaginary lover.