Ecstasy

Chapter Five

The explosion was deafening. With a startled grunt of pain, Lasseter doubled over to clench his left thigh. Almost at once a crimson streak spread beneath his fingers to stain his buff-colored breeches.

Aghast, Raven pressed a hand over her mouth, scarcely believing that she had actually shot him. Her gaze flew to his, only to find him skewering her with a menacing stare. With his beautiful, scarred face and coal black eyes, he looked supremely dangerous.

When he moved toward her, she took a defensive step backward. His scar stood out in a livid white line, and for a moment, all she could see was that and the promise of vengeance in his eyes. Yet instead of coming after her, he stumbled over to the bed, where he sat back against the headboard, grimacing in pain.

Blood was already soaking into the tangled sheets, Raven saw with horror as he grabbed a handful of linen to press against the wound.

“Are you badly hurt?” she murmured weakly.

Lasseter shot her a searing look. She had to school herself not to flinch from the smoldering intensity of his eyes.

Wanting to be of help, Raven started toward him, but his eyes flashed a warning and narrowed on the pistol in her hand. “For God’s sake, put that damned thing down before you do any more damage.”

Just then the door flew open and Emma Walsh stood there, a look of alarm on her beautiful features. “What happened?” she demanded, her gaze flying between Raven and the wounded man on the bed. “I heard a gunshot.”

“Miss Kendrick has come to no harm,” Lasseter bit out, “if that’s what concerns you. Although she has mortally wounded me.”

“Merciful heavens,” Emma breathed, taking a step toward the bed.

Abruptly he held up a hand to forestall her. “I’ll be all right. Just fetch some bandages.”

When the hostess had hurried away, Raven spoke in a contrite tone. “Did you mean it? Are you really all right?”

“No, devil take it!” he retorted. “I am certain to be crippled for life.”

Remorse filling her, Raven set the pistol down on the table and moved to the bedside. “Let me see.”

When he growled a protest and made to rise, she pressed him back down with her palm, finding his chest firmly muscled beneath the crispness of his shirt. Keenly aware of his masculinity, she bent over him and pushed his hand away from his leg so she could inspect the injury. She uncovered a gash perhaps an inch long on the side of his thigh.

“It doesn’t look too deep… Certainly not a mortal wound as you claimed.”

“I am devastated to disappoint you.”

His reply was rough with pain and edged with hostility.

“There is no call for you to be so nasty, Mr. Lasseter. I am sorry I hurt you-”

“Why don’t I believe you?”

Her cheeks flushed with hot anger. “I think I was entirely justified in shooting you.”

“That is purely a matter of opinion. You could have deprived me of my manhood, if not put a period to my existence.”

“It is only a flesh wound,” Raven said defensively. “I could have injured you far worse had I wished to.”

“Regrettably you will have to be satisfied with my bleeding to death.”

Her eyes narrowed on him. “You are trying to make me feel guilty, aren’t you?”

“The thought had crossed my mind.”

He raised a sardonic smile to her glare, which only increased her vexation. When her fingers curled reflexively on his thigh, he flinched and grasped her hand to hold it away.

Raven abruptly went still. A shimmering awareness of danger of another kind filled the air as she met his glittering gaze.

Kell felt the same danger and cursed silently. His wound was far from lethal but painful enough to aggravate the devil out of him, so how could he possibly be feeling aroused at her mere touch? But there was no question his cock was swelling into an unmistakable erection. His only excuse was that he’d just spent a long, excruciating night of unsated hunger with this blue-eyed spitfire…

Gritting his teeth, he damned her for causing him such pain, equally damning himself for wanting her so much. Intent on driving her away, Kell deliberately reached up and pulled his shirttail from his breeches. To his satisfaction, Raven Kendrick gave a start and jumped back.

“What are you doing?”

“Removing my breeches so I can see to my wound.” He sent her a challenging glance. “Don’t worry, Miss Kendrick. I don’t intend to assault you. I prefer my women warm and willing.”

Her chin lifted. “Will you please stop calling me Miss Kendrick in that odious tone?”

“What would you have me call you? Vixen? She-devil?”

When she merely looked daggers at him, he grinned tauntingly. “If you don’t want your sensibilities offended, you had best turn your back. But first bring me that basin and pitcher of water.”

With unaccustomed meekness, Raven did as she was bid, carrying the basin to the nightstand beside the bed, then fetching the pitcher and a towel. When Lasseter gave her a hard look, she scurried across the room to stand before the hearth, keeping her back to him.

She heard a rustle of clothing, then heard him swear as evidently he peeled the fabric of his breeches and drawers away from the wound.

Raven bit her lower lip. She had not wanted to injure him severely, merely to nick him and bring his level of arrogance down a peg or two. But either her aim had been slightly off, or he had moved at the last instant.

“I truly am sorry,” she offered in a small voice after a moment.

“I trust you are.” He gave a disgruntled sigh. “But I suppose the fault is as much mine as yours. I should have known better than to provoke an angry female with a gun.” To her amazement there was an edge of dark humor in his voice.

His next question surprised her just as much. “Where did you learn to shoot like that?”

“Well…my groom taught me. O’Malley instructed me on any number of skills-riding and shooting particularly.”

“O’Malley?” The hardness returned to his voice. “The same O’Malley who thrashed my brother and left him for the impressment gang?”

Fortunately she was spared having to reply when Emma Walsh entered, her arms laden with bandages and salves.

Glancing over her shoulder, Raven saw the hostess deposit her supplies on the bed, then inspect the bloody gash on Lasseter’s leg. He had removed his breeches and used them to cover his loins, yet seeing the woman’s lovely blond head bending over his bare thigh, Raven was startled to feel a prick of jealousy sting her. It shouldn’t bother her in the least that they were behaving with the intimacy of lovers…

“The wound doesn’t look too severe,” Emma said softly. “Do you need help bandaging it, Kell?”

“I can manage,” he replied tersely. “You can clean up this bloody mess afterward, if you will.” He hesitated, and Raven suddenly felt his gaze bore into her. “And pray do something with Miss Kendrick. Escort her to your room and dress her. I’ll take her home before she has a chance to wreak any more destruction.”

Raven gave a slow exhalation of relief, even as she felt an unexpected sense of regret. By shooting Kell Lasseter, she had achieved precisely what she wanted. So why did she feel so little satisfaction at hurting the insufferable man?

Half an hour later, Raven found herself wearing a borrowed kerseymere gown that was several inches too long and a bit large in the bosom. But at least the high neckline covered her modestly and left little reminder of the wanton she’d been a short while earlier. More thankfully, she had tucked her mother’s pearls safely in the pocket of her own cloak, which Emma had also managed to rescue the previous night.

When a rap sounded on the bedchamber door, the hostess opened it to reveal her employer. He was limping slightly, Raven saw as he stepped into the room. Her gaze going to his left thigh, she noted he had changed into a new pair of breeches; she could barely see the outline of a bandage beneath the stockinet fabric.

“The damage doesn’t appear to be too extensive,” she murmured pointedly, “if you can walk without the aid of a cane.”

His mouth curled up at one corner. “I’ll survive, my sweet termagant. But don’t make the mistake of thinking I forgive you.”

Whatever contrition she had started to feel was instantly dashed. Her irritation was only exacerbated when he perused her oversized gown, lingering on her breasts as if he could see beneath the excess fabric. His probing gaze took liberties with her figure no other man had ever dared, the reprobate.

Pulling the lapels of her cloak closed, Raven raised her chin defiantly.

Still, it was hard to maintain a semblance of hauteur when he escorted her along the corridor, for she was required to hold up her too-long skirts to keep from tripping. It was even harder to ignore the smarting of her conscience, for Lasseter’s unsteady gait was clearly unfeigned, and she knew he must be in some pain.

He paused at the end of the hall and startled her by reaching up to draw her hood around her face. “I don’t expect any guests to be present at this early hour, but I see no need to advertise your identity.”

Raven felt her heart sink at the reminder of her plight, but she determinedly tried not to think about it.

When they descended the grand staircase, she received a glimpse of the entrance hall and the rooms beyond. For a gaming hell the decor seemed surprisingly elegant, with the gleam of rich wood and polished silver and sparkling crystal catching her eye. The huge chandelier in the entryway alone must have cost a fortune. Clearly the Golden Fleece was a successful enterprise.

She stole a glance at its enigmatic owner, wondering how a man who gave every outward appearance of being a gentleman had come to be involved in such a disreputable trade. Lasseter wasn’t the devilish scoundrel she might have expected, given his dangerous aura and his brother’s propensity for violence. Despite his biting wit, he hadn’t strangled her when she’d shot him. And last night, he had treated her with the tenderness of a lover-

Swiftly Raven crushed the feelings of warmth she’d so briefly entertained. Kell Lasseter didn’t deserve her admiration. He was a mere gamester, one who doubtless had rescued her only because he didn’t want his brother being thrown in prison for life. And he had held her there against her will. She should despise him for his despicable treatment of her.

A closed carriage awaited them on the street. When asked, Raven gave the coachman her great-aunt’s address and allowed Lasseter to hand her inside.

Without speaking, he settled beside her and then remained silent as they got under way. Perversely Raven almost wished Lasseter would talk to her, even if only to harangue her again for shooting him. She needed the distraction. The knots in her stomach had returned with a vengeance, for she recalled just how hopeless her future now was.

Disaster stared her in the face. Her character was in ruins, her dreams shattered. Her grandfather would doubtless disown her the way he had his own daughter. And her mother…Mama would have been devastated to see her mired in scandal and disgrace.

Raven shut her eyes, remembering her mother’s final moments-her once-beautiful face wasted by fever, her strength drained by the fatal illness. But her grip had been fierce on her daughter’s wrist as she had pleaded in a voice hoarse with desperation:

“Promise me, Raven. Swear to me you will wed a nobleman who can protect you from my folly.”

“I promise, Mama. Of course I promise.”

The pale lips had formed a frail smile of relief. “I can die in peace now.”

Oh, Mama.

Tears welled up in the back of Raven’s throat at the memory, while the chaos of her emotions threatened to overwhelm her again. Elizabeth Kendrick had lived for the day her daughter could return to England and take her rightful place in society without fear of being branded a bastard. And now that dream lay in ashes.

Pain sliced through Raven, while a sickening sense of inevitability swept her. There was no possible way for her to fulfill her promise now. And she had no one to turn to. She felt desperately alone, bereft of all sense of direction or purpose.

“Here,” she heard a low male voice murmur beside her.

She took the handkerchief Lasseter offered her and brutally bit back a sob, cursing herself for being such a weakling. When she felt his penetrating gaze on her, she turned her face away and clenched her jaw till it ached.

Raven had herself under better control when the carriage drew to a halt. But she sat staring out the window a long moment, knowing there was no way to avoid a tempest when she faced her relatives.

“Do you need more time?” Lasseter asked. Amazingly enough, his dark gaze held sympathy.

“Yes, but I suppose it would be pointless, since the outcome wouldn’t change.” She stiffened her spine. “There is no hope for it. I must brave the dragon.”

“Dragon?”

“My great-aunt, Lady Dalrymple. She has been waiting for me to cause a scandal since the day I arrived in England. No doubt she’ll derive great satisfaction because I have lived up to her poor opinion of me.”

“You think she will hold you to blame for what happened?”

“Absolutely. I’m certain no other young lady of her acquaintance would have managed to be abducted on her wedding day.”

His sensual mouth curved in a half smile that strangely was devoid of sarcasm. “You are indeed rather unique in my experience, Miss Kendrick,” he remarked, making it sound more a compliment than a slight.

He opened the carriage door and carefully descended, then turned to help Raven down. When he shut the door and made to accompany her, she shot him a quizzical look.

“I intend to see you safely inside,” Lasseter said, and Raven didn’t argue. She was absurdly glad to have him beside her.

They had started up the flight of steps together when she saw him grimace. Realizing his wound must be paining him, she offered her arm for support. Lasseter gave her a long, measuring glance, but after a moment’s hesitation accepted her assistance, draping his arm around her shoulders and allowing her to bear some of his weight.

“You really should have a cane,” she murmured, striving to ignore the intimacy of the contact. “My grandfather keeps several here at my aunt’s house. I will find one for you.”

Thankfully he released her when they reached the landing. Her stomach churning, Raven pushed open the front door and entered with Lasseter behind her.

For a brief moment she considered taking the coward’s way out and simply sneaking up to her rooms. But the two footmen standing at attention in the entrance hall had already spied her. And just then her aunt’s butler appeared.

“Miss Raven!” Pleasure and relief wreathed his lined face. “You have returned! Were you harmed?” The aging butler caught himself. “Forgive me, miss. We have been frantic with worry, awaiting word of you.”

“Thank you, Broady.” Raven managed a smile. “I wasn’t seriously harmed. Will you please inform my aunt that I am home?”

“Certainly, miss, and his lordship as well. Your grandfather has taken to his bed, he was so distraught over your disappearance.”

Raven felt a renewed surge of guilt. She had been so concerned with her own dire circumstances, she hadn’t wanted to think about how her grandfather’s health would be affected by her abduction. The shock of her ruination might very well kill him.

Just then her aunt called out from the rear parlor. “Raven, is that you?” The silver-haired dame came into the hall. “In God’s name, are you all right?”

“I’m well enough, Aunt.”

“What happened? We feared the worst.”

“Perhaps we should speak in private,” Raven suggested, preferring not to air the shameful details in front of the servants.

It was no doubt a measure of how overset Lady Dalrymple was that she ignored the suggestion. “All we could think of was that someone held a grudge against Jervis…or perhaps Halford. Who were those brutes who abducted you?”

Raven gave Lasseter a quick glance. His mouth was set grimly, and she sensed the tension in the muscular lines of his body. He expected her to denounce his brother, she knew, and yet she found herself hesitating.

What point would be served by naming Sean Lasseter as her abductor? Did she truly want to see him in prison? And what of the consequences to Kell? He could very well be implicated in his brother’s machinations.

She owed him more than that, Raven realized. He had saved her from his brother’s violence, after all. And he had behaved honorably last night, after a fashion. He’d succored her in her dire need without taking advantage of her terrible vulnerability. How many other men would have acted with the same nobility? And then she had shot him for his efforts…

Raven took a steadying breath, committing herself. “I’m not certain who they were, Aunt. They wore masks and never showed themselves before they struck me unconscious.”

Beside her, she sensed Lasseter’s sharp glance. She could feel his gaze boring into her as she went on with her fabricated tale. “Thankfully, this gentleman rescued me. This is Mr. Kell Lasseter, Aunt. Mr. Lasseter, my great-aunt Catherine, Lady Dalrymple.”

He gave a brief bow, while the elderly lady stiffened.

“Lasseter? Of the Derbyshire Lasseters?”

“The same, my lady,” he responded.

“You are Adam Lasseter’s eldest son.” When he didn’t deny it, a mingled look of horror and distaste claimed her haughty features. “I am acquainted with your unsavory reputation, sir! You are a notorious gamester, your mother was an Irish nobody, and it is common knowledge that you murdered your uncle!”

Shocked by the last charge, Raven couldn’t help but stare at Lasseter.

The smile he gave was dangerous. “I wonder which you consider my greatest crime, Lady Dalrymple? The fact that I’m a gamester, of Irish blood, or rumored to be a murderer?”

She shuddered, while her hands rose to her cheeks in dismay. “Dear God. I had hoped…We are ruined!” She suddenly glowered at her great-niece. “How could you, Raven? How could you bring this murderer into our midst?”

“Murderer?”

Raven gave a start to hear her grandfather’s gruff voice. He had descended the stairs halfway, garbed in his dressing gown, and his face was flushed with outrage.

Holding on to the banister with one shaking hand, Lord Luttrell pointed his cane at Lasseter. “Seize that man!”

For a moment, no one moved. Then the footmen suddenly understood the command and hastened to obey, leaping forward to apprehend Lasseter.

When they tried to grab his arms, however, he fended them off with lightning-quick reflexes-lashing out with his fists and delivering several hard blows to the face and stomach of each footman, felling them both with ease.

Raven gasped to see the two strapping servants lying on the parquet floor, groaning and wheezing for breath. Even injured, Lasseter had been more than a physical match for them-although now he was gritting his teeth, obviously in pain from the bullet wound in his thigh.

“Damnation, I said seize him!” her grandfather roared.

When the elderly butler moved forward, Raven hastily stepped into his path, holding her arms out wide, shielding Lasseter and determined to protect the aging butler as well. “Broady, stop!”

She cast a frantic glance above her. “Grandfather, you don’t know what you are doing.”

“I do! I intend to have that scoundrel arrested and thrown in prison!”

“You are gravely mistaken. He is not a scoundrel!”

“If he abducted my granddaughter-”

“But he didn’t! Indeed, he rescued me from the brutes who thought to hold me hostage.” She hesitated only an instant before embellishing her tale further. “Moreover, he was wounded defending me. Truly, I owe him a debt of gratitude.”

“Finally you admit it,” she heard Lasseter mutter in a wry undervoice.

Raven gave him a sharp glance over her shoulder, daring him to challenge her lies. She thought she saw a mocking gleam of humor in his dark, penetrating gaze, along with something that appeared almost like admiration as he stood there flexing his bruised knuckles.

Her great-aunt, however, had a look of stark shock on her face to see two of her servants splayed on the floor of her magnificent entrance hall.

“Broady,” Raven murmured, “will you please assist them?”

With a brief glance at her ladyship, the butler answered, “Of course, Miss Raven,” and hurried to comply.

When he had helped the footmen to their feet and escorted them toward the rear of the house, Lady Dalrymple shook herself from her stupor and resumed her tone of haughty outrage. “What in heaven’s name are you thinking, Raven Kendrick?” She glared at Lasseter. “I will not have this…savage in my house.”

His own gaze remained cool, and so did his tone. “It pains me to disoblige you, my lady, but I have no intention of leaving until this situation with your niece is resolved.”

Raven intervened hastily. “Mr. Lasseter should be allowed to sit down, for I’m certain his wound is paining him. And Grandfather, you must sit as well. You should never have left your bed.”

“Well, you are the reason he was driven to his sickbed!” her aunt retorted caustically.

“Why don’t we repair to the parlor to discuss this in a civilized manner?” Raven replied, gritting her teeth.

She led the way into the parlor and was glad when all three followed her. Only her grandfather, however, took a seat. He was clearly making an effort to control his temper, Raven thought, but he didn’t look particularly well.

She remained standing, not only because she felt less vulnerable that way, but because she could more easily hide her inner turmoil. The violent fisticuffs just now had shaken her more than she would have expected, but so had her relatives’ precipitous anger at her rescuer. It disturbed her to see Lasseter condemned out of hand. The charge of murder was a grave one, certainly, but despite the aura of potential danger that hovered over him, she found it hard to credit that he was actually a murderer. At the very least, she was willing to reserve judgment about his past until she had proof one way or the other.

Yet it was her own future that distressed her most. She could think of no tolerable outcome to this nightmare. And the worst could still happen. Her grandfather’s health could prove irrevocably damaged by the shock he’d sustained. Or he could try to throw Lasseter in prison or challenge him to a duel… What a disaster that would be.

She cared about her grandfather-and even her great-aunt-and didn’t want them to be hurt further by this debacle. But how could she spare them? She could flee England, as Lasseter had suggested, in an effort to shield her family from disgrace, but where would she go? And her escape would still leave them to bear the brunt of her shame. Unless she could somehow manage to extricate herself from the scandal, she would take them down with her.

Her great-aunt had resumed ranting, Raven realized belatedly, but she had missed most of what had been said.

“Catherine, you will give Raven a chance to explain what happened,” Lord Luttrell interjected gruffly.

Raven bestirred herself to respond. “I am sorry, Grandfather, but I have no good explanation for yesterday’s events. Believe me, I would have spared you this if I could.”

“I take leave to doubt that!” Aunt Catherine asserted. “You have been waiting to humiliate us ever since you arrived.”

To Raven’s surprise, she felt Lasseter move to her side, as if prepared to defend her, and she was heartened by his unspoken support.

“That is totally untrue,” Raven answered her aunt, setting her jaw. “You make it sound as if I chose to be abducted.”

“Well, whatever the truth, we are totally ruined now. Several hundred people saw you jilt Halford at the altar. We did our best to hush up the scandal, announcing that you were suddenly taken ill. But no one will believe that flimsy tale for long. Indeed, we are already suspected of prevarication. Halford has been here three times demanding to see you and was furious when we couldn’t produce you. The last time he declared he had washed his hands of you and would cut all connection with us. And Lord and Lady Wycliff clearly smelled a lie…”

Raven bit her lip in dismay. Brynn Tremayne, Lady Wycliff, was one of her closest friends. And Brynn’s husband, Lucian, had been like a guardian to her when her other dearest friends had left for America last summer. They both would have been gravely concerned for her. In fact, had Lucian known the truth of her abduction, he might very well have invoked all his vast resources at the Foreign Office, where he worked, and turned London upside down searching for her.

“Not to mention the ignominy of your disappearance,” her aunt continued scornfully. “You vanish for an entire night and return with this…this criminal.” Her nose rising two inches, she looked down it at Lasseter, while disdain dripped from her voice. “No, there is no hope for it. We must find a husband for you at once.”

Raven stiffened at the raw nerve her aunt had struck. “I will not allow you to find a husband for me, Aunt Catherine.”

“What do you mean, you won’t allow it? Marriage is the only thing that could possibly save us from utter ruination!”

“Perhaps so, but you won’t choose my husband for me.”

“You obviously have no conception of the shame you have brought down upon our heads!”

“I understand quite well, Aunt, but I won’t meekly permit you to marry me off the way you did my mother.”

Lady Dalrymple drew herself up to her full height. “I cannot credit your insolence! This is the gratitude you show me for taking you in? Well, hear me, young lady. You are no longer welcome in my house!”

“That is quite enough, Catherine!” her brother exclaimed.

“No, Grandfather,” Raven said tightly. “She is right. It would be best for all of us if I left. I will not remain where I am not wanted.”

Defiance blazed in her eyes, and from the sidelines of the battle, Kell watched in fascination. She reminded him of his mother when her Irish temper was riled; Raven Kendrick was scrappy like his mother, certainly. A beautiful spitfire who aroused his own primitive male instincts more keenly than any woman he’d ever met.

Against his will and better judgment, he’d begun to admire her spirit and courage in the face of adversity, not to mention her sharp wit and beauty. A supremely dangerous combination.

Mentally Kell shook his head, realizing how significantly his opinion of her had changed in a few short hours. Until this morning, he’d thought his brother almost justified in wanting revenge against a treacherous temptress who took cruel pleasure in destroying men’s lives. Yet now Kell found himself questioning that version of the tale, and worse-struggling against the unwanted feelings of protectiveness Raven Kendrick stirred in him.

She was still a dangerous temptress, he had no doubt, but the vulnerability in her remarkable eyes struck a responsive chord in him. After what his brother had done to her, he honestly didn’t want to see her hurt further. And the scorn she was facing just now lay bare his own raw memories of his mother’s treatment at the hands of her contemptuous English in-laws.

He felt fiercely compelled to defend Miss Kendrick, although she seemed to be holding her own well enough against her dragon of an aunt. She was trembling with courageous anger. The stubborn set of her jaw couldn’t disguise the loveliness of its line, or suppress her inner fire. The kind of fire a man could sink right into…

Shaking off his errant thoughts, he reluctantly stepped into the fray. “Might I have a word with you, Miss Kendrick? In private?”

She broke off her heated argument with her aunt to stare at him, while Lady Dalrymple snapped, “What can you possibly have to say in this matter? You have done quite enough damage!”

“Leave him alone, Aunt Catherine!” her niece responded. “You have no right to take your anger out on Mr. Lasseter. And I would be pleased to speak to him.”

Impulsively she grasped his hand to draw him out of the salon, and Kell was stunned when his body reacted at her merest touch; without warning he felt hot desire pulsing to life within him-unexpected, unwelcome, but undeniable.

He voiced a silent oath and allowed Miss Kendrick to lead him from the room and along the corridor to the adjacent dining room.

Releasing his hand then, she shut the door behind them and began to pace the Aubusson carpet, her eyes glittering with some wild, reckless emotion. Kell watched her curiously, but she seemed to have forgotten his presence.

Finally she recalled herself and sent him a disapproving glance. “Given your wound, you should sit down.”

“It would hardly be the act of a gentleman to sit while you stand.”

“Now you are claiming to be a gentleman?” she asked tartly.

He found it hard to repress a smile. “I know your dander is up from doing battle with the dragon, but there is no reason to flay me with your tongue.”

She took a calming breath, obviously trying to gain control of her emotions. “Yes, you are right. Forgive me. I should not have allowed her to goad me.”

It gave him some measure of satisfaction that she had actually offered an apology, and he felt less resentment about what he was obliged to do.

“I have a question for you, vixen,” he said. “Why did you lie about your abduction? Why didn’t you give up my brother?”

She hesitated before exhaling in a sigh. “Because I realized that I owed you a debt. You saved me from your brother’s revenge, possibly even rape. Moreover, I wasn’t certain what my grandfather would do to you if he knew the role you played. At the time, I feared he might call you out. With his heart condition, he is much too frail to duel-or he might have been wounded or killed. And then there was the matter of justice. As you said, your brother had suffered a great deal already.” She shrugged. “So now we are even.”

His mouth curled at the corner. “We’re hardly even. You seem to be forgetting that you shot me.”

“But you held me prisoner.” Her blue eyes held a renewed spark of defiance.

Deciding to retreat rather than fight that battle once more, Kell changed the subject. “I assume it is beyond question that your duke will still have you?”

Suddenly reluctant to meet his gaze, she looked away. “Entirely. You heard my aunt…Halford has washed his hands of me. And I cannot really blame him. Several hundred people saw me jilt him at the altar.”

“You don’t believe he could be persuaded to change his mind?”

“I am certain of it. The Duke of Halford is a stickler for propriety, and his pride is legendary. I came to know him well enough over the course of our betrothal. He would have been enraged by so public an humiliation. Besides, he would never accept a bride who had spent the night in another man’s bed. Even if I could somehow manage to conceal…what happened last night”-her face flushed-“I couldn’t lie to him on so important a matter.”

“I don’t suppose so,” Kell said broodingly.

“So what did you wish to discuss with me?” she asked.

He drew a slow breath, steeling himself. “I am prepared to offer for your hand in marriage, Miss Kendrick.”

Her sharp intake of breath proclaimed her shock. She stared at him a long moment before finally speaking. “You have no desire to marry me, I’m certain. Why ever would you make me such an offer?”

Kell raked a hand roughly through his hair, torn by the instincts that were warring inside him. He’d known from the first moment he found Raven Kendrick in his bed that her abduction could have disastrous consequences. He just hadn’t wanted to face the possibilities. Nor did he want to be forced into matrimony with the heartbreaker who had made his brother’s life such a misery.

But his conscience was smiting him now. And he felt honor bound to make amends for what Sean had done to her. He had to at least give Miss Kendrick the option of marrying him, even if he fervently hoped she would refuse his proposal.

“Because marriage would salvage your reputation to some extent. And I am interested in keeping my brother out of prison. I am willing to wed you if you will agree not to press charges.”

She raised a hand to her temple as if dazed. Moving to the dining room table, she pulled out a chair and sank into it. “I presume you are proposing a marriage of convenience?”

“Yes. Afterward we can go our separate ways. Something could be arranged so that we needn’t see much of each other.”

She remained silent, looking down at her hands.

“Before you answer, Miss Kendrick,” Kell commented, “you should be fully aware of my reputation. You think me an ill-mannered blackguard, and I won’t dispute it. And society does not exactly hold me in high esteem. I own a gaming hell. And my Irish blood ensures that any number of doors are closed to me. Not to mention that I lack a title of any kind.”

She winced as if that realization pained her. “I know,” she said in a low voice. To his surprise he saw tears spring to her eyes, but she brushed them away furiously. Eventually she glanced up at him, as if a new thought had struck her. “What did my aunt mean when she said it was common knowledge that you murdered your uncle?”

All the muscles in his body went stiff. Finally Kell said, “There have long been rumors that I killed my uncle in a fit of rage.”

Her intent gaze searched his face. “And did you?”

“Would you believe me if I said no?”

“Yes,” she answered slowly. “I think I would. I don’t put much stock in rumors. Last spring my bro-a dear friend of mine was accused of being a murderer and sentenced to hang, but he was entirely justified in his actions.”

She had surprised him once again, Kell realized, with her novel attitude. He would have to learn not to underestimate the unconventional Miss Kendrick.

As for answering her question, however…he had no intention of divulging the truth, although he was indeed suspected of murder. The dark rumors about his past had followed him from Ireland where his uncle had died, and Kell had never made any attempt to deny them.

“I think I can safely say that my uncle’s death was justified,” Kell replied enigmatically.

She nodded slowly, then rose to her feet to pace the room again. At length she stopped and clasped her hands together, possibly to still her agitation. “Perhaps you are right,” she said, looking at him. “Marriage is my only option. I am facing ruination. I will be branded a total pariah in society if I don’t find a husband at once.”

Kell didn’t care for her reply at all. “Keep in mind that your family will have fierce objections to our marriage. Your great-aunt thinks me a criminal.”

Her mouth twisted briefly in a grimace. “The fact that my aunt holds you in aversion is frankly an argument in your favor.”

“And you would wed an unsuitable husband just to spite her?”

“No, of course not. But I won’t allow her to dictate to me.”

The rebellious flash of heat in her eyes struck another chord in Kell. He understood rebellion; he was a rebel himself. But that didn’t mean he wanted to encourage her to accept his offer.

He gave her a measuring stare, deliberately trying to unsettle her.

In response she squared her shoulders. “No matter how notorious your reputation, Mr. Lasseter, you would still be immeasurably better than no husband at all. Unwed, I stand no chance of ever showing my face again in society. I think it vastly unfair, but it is a fact of life. And I am hardly in a position to be overly discriminating.”

“Yet you just told your aunt you refused to marry.”

“No. I said I refused to accept her choice.”

“There is a difference?”

“A tremendous difference. It is a long story but…my mother was compelled by her family to marry a man she…disliked. And I have no intention of following in her footsteps.”

Her blue eyes were filled with pain, Kell noted. “Still, there must be other better marital candidates than I.”

“I can think of no one on such short notice. Even if I were to try to find someone willing to wed me, I run the risk of exposing myself further. If I were turned down…there would be no possible way to keep my circumstances a secret.”

“You could leave the country, as I suggested earlier.”

“And live as an outcast? That is even more repugnant to me than being compelled to wed.” Her voice dropped to a murmur, but it was filled with trembling anger. “My mother spent most of her life preparing me to join the society she was denied, and she would have been devastated to know she’d failed in her life’s goal. And I’m certain my grandfather will rest easier if I can manage to avert disaster. My aunt as well.”

Kell raised a skeptical eyebrow. “After your aunt’s virulent display of sympathy, I fail to comprehend why you would want to comfort her.”

“Because I don’t want my family to suffer because of me. But to have any hope of shielding them, I will have to wed immediately. The servants have already witnessed my return, and they will not keep quiet for long.”

Denial was Kell’s first impulse, but he couldn’t refute that her points were good ones.

“You appear to be regretting your offer already,” she said when he was silent.

Kell shifted uneasily, not knowing which was causing him more discomfort, his injured thigh or the knot that had formed low in his belly. “I am a bachelor, Miss Kendrick. You’ll understand if I’m not eager to hang in the parson’s noose.”

Her brow furrowed, and she hesitated a moment before asking, “Do you have someone in mind you would prefer to wed?”

“No, vixen, I don’t,” Kell said dryly. “I hadn’t intended to wed at all. Certainly not anytime in the near future.”

“I suppose you keep a mistress. Most men of means do.”

His eyebrows shot up at her plain speaking, but the flush on her cheeks suggested the topic wasn’t a comfortable one for her.

“Truly,” she added, “I wouldn’t mind if you continue to have your paramours.”

“Your generosity overwhelms me,” he drawled.

“Well, you might find our union financially advantageous. I have an adequate income of my own-a fund provided by my…father. And my grandfather promised me a significant dowry when I wed.”

“I don’t require your wealth,” Kell declared, annoyed at her assumption that he could be bought.

She moistened her lips, drawing his attention there against his will. “Well, unless you mean to withdraw your offer, I think I must accept it.”

Still fighting the inevitable, Kell narrowed his own gaze at her. “You really should consider carefully, vixen. I promise you, I would make you a terrible husband.”

Pinning her with his midnight eyes, he moved toward her.

Raven took a defensive step backward, finding his intense stare unnerving. She was still amazed by his offer. And he would no doubt make her a dreadful husband. He was a notorious gamester, a stranger who didn’t even like her. Without question, he would be disagreeable and unmanageable as a spouse. And she had deliberately shot him…

It was a marriage doomed to failure. But she had little choice in the matter. Any husband would be better than no husband at all. She needed him.

“Are you certain you want to be my wife?” he murmured. When he grasped her elbow in a velvet grip, Raven felt her breath catch.

“Well?” His silken tone made her shiver, and so did his nearness.

Her gaze focused on his scarred cheek, which suddenly made him seem menacing, then shifted lower to his striking, sensual mouth, which was even more dangerous. Did he intend to kiss her? Her pulse quickened into a rapid, erratic rhythm.

But he didn’t kiss her. Instead his arms folded tightly about her in a merciless embrace that wouldn’t permit her to move. The surge of primal heat shocked her body into stillness; the hot darkness of his gaze filled her with the stunning memory of how he’d pleasured her all through the night…

“Aren’t you afraid of me, Miss Kendrick?”

Was she afraid of him? He was an intense, dangerous man, with a hot vitality that seemed to charge the very air she breathed. She should fear for her virtue at the very least. Yet inexplicably she didn’t fear him. Perhaps because she had seen him so many times in her fantasies.

His eyes glittered darkly, reminding her so keenly of her pirate lover.

“No…I am not afraid of you,” she managed to whisper unsteadily. “Especially not when I think you are deliberately trying to intimidate me.”

He stared down at her a long moment, his eyes unreadable. “I can’t frighten you away then?”

“No, sir, you cannot.”

His mouth compressed in a sardonic line. “My name is not sir.”

“Mr. Lasseter, then.”

“My name is Kell. Say it.”

“Kell, then. I am not afraid of you, Kell.”

She felt her heart pounding as she waited an interminable moment for his response.

Cursing under his breath then, he abruptly released her and turned away. For the span of another dozen heartbeats, he stood there, his jaw muscles working as if he were struggling with himself.

Finally he shot her a hooded glance over his shoulder.

“Very well, vixen,” he said, his tone rife with resignation. “We will marry as soon as arrangements can be made.”