Ecstasy

Chapter Six

He never should have touched her, Kell reflected darkly as he watched Raven Kendrick attempt to explain their sudden engagement to her disbelieving relatives. He’d hoped that physical intimidation might influence her to refuse his reluctant proposal of marriage, but regrettably, wrapping his arms around her had only reminded him of their feverish night together: the incredible feel of her aroused body, her passionate hunger for a man, his yet unfulfilled ache…

Bloody hell, but his ill-considered embrace had been a mistake, affecting his body and his senses on the most primal level. His body still throbbed, while his mind spun, unable to focus on the current conversation.

Moments ago they’d returned to the salon to announce their intention to marry, and for a brittle instant, both her great-aunt and grandfather had sat stunned. Then Lord Luttrell had practically exploded in protest, leaping to his feet and waving his cane in the air to punctuate his objections while Raven tried to calm him and prevent him suffering a true apoplectic fit.

His own mind distracted, Kell settled in a chair and watched his prospective bride, wondering exactly why he had felt compelled to save her. He didn’t want a wife of any kind. Certainly not a blue-blooded temptress who drove men like his impressionable brother wild. And he’d had at least one other option besides the parson’s noose. Determined to keep Sean out of prison or worse, he could have spirited his brother out of the country to avoid any retribution by Miss Kendrick or her enraged family.

There was his sense of honor, of course. Any man with a shred of decency would feel obliged to make amends for the violence she had been shown. And he actually had been the one to compromise her. It was his bed she had spent the entire night in.

But Kell suspected there were other, more profound reasons he hadn’t fought harder against having to make her his bride.

Simply put, if he didn’t wed her, she would have no defenses against society’s savagery. He didn’t want the image of her desperate and alone haunting him, the way the stark image of his mother still haunted him.

His mother had been an Irish physician’s daughter who’d fallen in love with one of her father’s patients-an Englishman injured in a hunting accident while touring Ireland. Fiona had married considerably above her station, into the wealthy English gentry, and was never accepted by the haughty Lasseters, even though her husband and her two sons adored her. Within months of being widowed, Fiona was banished to Ireland by the boys’ uncle William, who took over their guardianship, despite their anguished pleas and bitter protests. A year later she’d died in poverty.

Kell had blamed his uncle entirely for her death and came to hate William with an unforgiving ferocity. And that was before the bastard had violated his youngest ward’s innocence with his perversions…

Grimly Kell forced away the memory. He’d been unable to shield either his mother or brother all those years ago, but he didn’t intend to bear that burden of guilt again by standing idle while Raven Kendrick suffered.

For whatever reason, he felt a fierce, almost savage need to protect her. He wouldn’t abandon her now. Even if wedding her was wholly contrary to his own personal desires.

Kell gave a silent, humorless laugh. He’d once vowed he would never marry an aristocrat. Indeed, if he’d thought about it, he would have said he wanted to marry only for love; that he wanted a love match like his parents’.

But at least Raven Kendrick wasn’t the typical wide-eyed schoolmiss without an intelligent thought in her head. As husband and wife, they would doubtless frequently clash, but he would rather risk being shot again than be tied to a milksop for life. And while the singular Miss Kendrick might be virginal, last night he’d been given a tantalizing glimpse of another woman entirely. A staggeringly passionate woman with strength and fire and spirit enough to keep him constantly intrigued…

Too damned intrigued.

Kell cursed under his breath. He didn’t want to be fascinated by his unwanted bride’s spirit or her captivating beauty. He knew too well the danger she presented. Thankfully they’d agreed only to a marriage of convenience, a dispassionate arrangement that could be entered into without any emotional or physical involvement. After the obligatory consummation, they needn’t ever share conjugal relations. He would have to do his utmost to see their union never became more intimate than that.

Her grandfather, however, was acting as if he didn’t want the marriage to take place at all, Kell realized as he refocused his attention on the conversation. Oddly enough it was Lady Dalrymple who was championing the union.

“You cannot be thinking clearly, Jervis,” the dragon said in her usual frigid tones. “Raven has no option but to wed-”

“My thinking is quite clear, Catherine! You are the one who has gone maggoty. You said he was a damned murderer!”

“Well, I don’t know that for a fact. The rumors could be mere gossip.”

“But he is still a gamester.”

“True. Mr. Lasseter is the scandal of polite society. But Raven is just as notorious at the moment. And disreputable or not, his marrying her will at least provide her with a crumb of respectability. Furthermore”-Lady Dalrymple shot her great niece a glance full of dislike, if not actual malice-“I hazard to say they deserve one another.”

The undercurrents of tension in the room were palpable, and Lord Luttrell’s next accusation only added to the turbulence.

“Doubtless he’s nothing but a damned fortune hunter.”

Kell stiffened at that groundless indictment. He’d rightfully inherited the Lasseter wealth upon his uncle’s death but refused to touch it, turning the income and the use of the entailed estate over to his younger brother, along with the London town house, as recompense for what Sean had suffered. Instead, Kell had made use of his considerable skills as a gamester to amass a small fortune, which had allowed him to open his private gaming club. That success, along with several subsequent judicious investments, had increased his worth tenfold and made him sufficiently rich to earn a certain deference from any but the noble class.

Before he could respond, though, Lord Luttrell continued in a voice full of contempt. “And you can’t deny he’s a bloody Irishman!”

Raven broke into the altercation then, her tone grim. “I think you are forgetting that Ian Kendrick was part Irish. If he was good enough to be my father, then Mr. Lasseter is good enough to be my husband.”

Kell scarcely heard her argument, for he was fighting his own deep resentment and barely controlled rage. The notion that he wasn’t worthy of marrying a British viscount’s granddaughter made him seethe. He could never forget that his mother hadn’t been good enough for the English Quality; that even Irish gentry were considered beneath them.

That sort of upper class bigotry roused his defiance enough to have the opposite effect from the one Lord Luttrell intended; now Kell felt inclined to marry Miss Kendrick simply to spite her disdainful kin.

“But his bloodlines,” Lady Dalrymple broke in, “are inconsequential at this point, Jervis. If she doesn’t wed him at once, the scandal will descend upon all our heads.”

“The scandal be damned.” The elderly nobleman looked directly at his granddaughter, his eyes softening. “I’ll not force you to wed against your wishes. I’ll not repeat the mistake I made with your mother.”

“It won’t be against my wishes, Grandfather,” Raven replied, a stubborn edge to her voice.

Kell finally was able to control his anger enough to interrupt. “I don’t deny your charges regarding my profession, Lord Luttrell. But I’m not at all ashamed of my Irish heritage. As for my being a fortune hunter, you are far off the mark. I am quite capable of caring for your granddaughter and keeping her in her accustomed style. In fact I’m prepared to be exceptionally generous. I will provide her with a house and income of her own. And if you are still concerned for her welfare, your solicitors can draw up a marriage contract to tie up whatever fortune she now possesses and keep it out of my reach.”

Lord Luttrell gave Kell a fierce glance, but Lady Dalrymple conferred an imperious nod of approval on the plan. “There, then. It is all settled.”

A long silence followed while his lordship’s scowl gradually faded to frustration and then finally resignation. At last, he sighed and surrendered to necessity, just as Kell had. “I suppose there is no other choice.”

“No, Grandfather, there isn’t,” Raven agreed.

“Now,” her aunt said briskly, obviously determined to take charge, “we must somehow come up with a credible story to explain Raven’s disappearance yesterday. If she is to suddenly reappear married, then no one will truly believe she was ill as we claimed. And there will still be the disgrace of her publicly jilting the Duke of Halford.” She hesitated, frowning. “But what story could be considered credible?”

“We would do best to keep as close to the truth as possible,” Kell said. “Too many people saw Miss Kendrick’s abduction for us to deny it, but we can suggest our own interpretation of events.”

“What do you mean?” Raven asked.

He met her curious gaze with cool detachment. “We should put about a new story: we met sometime in the past and fell in love, but you rejected my suit because of your family’s objections. On the eve of your wedding, I realized I couldn’t live without you, so I abducted you and convinced you to wed me.”

“You want to concoct a tale of a love match?” her aunt asked.

“We would pretend to be in love?” Raven echoed, startled by the unlikely prospect of Kell Lasseter loving her. Judging by his expression, he saw her as a regrettable obligation. “But when would I have had time to meet you and fall in love? Until this past spring I was still living in the Caribbean.”

“Then we fell in love in the Caribbean when I visited years ago.”

“It just might suffice,” Lady Dalrymple said thoughtfully. “A former romance could explain why Raven would be foolish enough to jilt a duke. And it could possibly avert further disastrous consequences. Halford might be inclined to call out Raven’s abductor, but if he believes her in love with someone else, he will be less likely to brawl over her. The ton, as well, could be a trifle more forgiving in judging her.”

“We should probably claim to have been married last evening,” Kell added, “and make it a reality as soon as possible.”

“Why not elope to Scotland,” Luttrell demanded, “and be married over the anvil?”

“An elopement wouldn’t help Miss Kendrick’s reputation,” Kell answered. “For one thing, she would be unmarried and in my sole company for too long. And your servants would know differently. Moreover, with my leg wound, I would prefer not to endure countless days of jostling in a carriage.” He glanced at the ormolu clock on the mantel. “There is still enough time to apply for a special license so that we can be married this evening.”

“You will need a clergymen to perform the ceremony,” his lordship said tersely.

“I can arrange for a clergyman. But we cannot be married here. There would be too many witnesses who could later contradict our story. The ceremony will have to take place in a private location.”

“Where do you suggest?”

“I have a house in Richmond that is lightly staffed at the moment and should be adequate. The servants are discreet.”

Raven shot her future husband a curious frown. Quite often gentlemen of leisure had pleasure houses close to London so their mistresses would be nearby. Was Kell Lasseter one of those gentlemen? Was he even a gentleman?

The thought was interrupted by her grandfather’s continued questioning. “What of the marriage contract? I want my granddaughter to be well provided for.”

“Jervis, there is no time to draw up any contracts,” his sister insisted. “That can wait until after they are safely wed.”

Lasseter returned a cool look. “I don’t intend to cheat your granddaughter out of a settlement, if that is what concerns you.”

“Of course it can wait,” Raven said. “I trust Mr. Lasseter to keep his word.”

And strangely enough, she did. She had little doubt he would do as he promised. Her bigger fear in marrying him was that she could completely lose her independence, since a wife had few rights. She wouldn’t be able to manage him the way she could have managed Halford. On the contrary, if any husband could prove to be domineering and difficult to control, it would be Kell Lasseter.

He was watching her with that enigmatic look again, as if trying to determine her motives. Subjected to his dark-eyed scrutiny, Raven suddenly felt her stomach twist in knots.

This man would soon be her husband. She was actually about to marry a notorious stranger, heaven help her.

If her misgivings about marriage were profuse yesterday when she was about to fulfill her long-held dreams with her ideal match, they were utterly rampant now. But she had no choice, she reminded herself, trying to curb her panic. Indeed, she was fortunate that Lasseter had agreed to rescue her.

“Well, then,” her aunt said, returning to practical matters, “we have a great number of preparations to make. Raven, while Mr. Lasseter sees to the special license, you must write Halford and give him to understand the circumstances and beg his forgiveness.”

“Yes,” she agreed, grateful for the distraction. “I owe him an apology of some kind. And I should send a word of explanation to Brynn and Lucian…”

“And I will do the same with my chief acquaintances,” her aunt added, “while Jervis sends a notice to the papers.”

Lasseter interrupted, addressing Raven. “It would be better for you to write from Richmond. The longer you remain here, the harder it will be to support the pretense that we were wed last evening. As it is, we can say that we only stopped here to inform your family of our union.”

“Yes,” Raven agreed, seeing the wisdom of his suggestion. “We should be on our way.”

“Is such unseemly haste really necessary?” Lady Dalrymple protested-simply, her niece suspected, because she disliked someone else being in charge. “Raven should at least be allowed to change her gown for something more suitable.”

“No, Aunt Catherine, Mr. Kendrick is right. My attire isn’t overly important. But I will eventually need access to my belongings. My trunks were packed for my remove to Halford House. Were they delivered there yet?”

“Not yet. With all the chaos yesterday-”

“Her trunks can be retrieved once we decide on living arrangements,” Lasseter said with an edge of impatience.

“But a valise was prepared for her wedding trip,” her ladyship insisted. “She should be permitted to take it with her. She cannot go about town looking like a ragamuffin.” The suggestion was accompanied by a derisive look at Raven’s ill-fitting skirts.

“Perhaps that would be wise,” Raven agreed, remembering that the valise would contain a nightdress among other garments.

“Very well,” he acceded.

Rising, Lady Dalrymple rang for Broady and instructed the grave-faced butler to have Miss Kendrick’s valise loaded at once onto Mr. Lasseter’s carriage.

After that, there seemed to be little more to be said except for farewell. Raven, however, couldn’t help but contrast her leavetaking now with the previous day’s. Yesterday she had been about to marry an illustrious duke; today she would wed a notorious gamester who was suspected of murder…

Her relatives’ qualms were almost as great as her own, it seemed. Her aunt remained icily polite, while her grandfather was actually distraught. Lord Luttrell took her hands in his own trembling ones and squeezed her fingers hard.

“If you ever find yourself in need, my dear…I hope you know you can count on me.”

A sudden ache of emotion tightened her throat: surprise, gratitude, affection. She was amazed and relieved that her grandfather didn’t mean to treat her in the scurrilous way he had her mother. Her voice sounded raspy when she murmured her thanks.

Her grandfather then turned to Lasseter with a fierce stare. “If you harm her in any way, I warn you, sir, you will answer to me.”

“Grandfather-” Raven objected, feeling the injustice of the remark, but Lasseter offered the elderly nobleman a cool smile.

“I intend to save her, Lord Luttrell, not harm her. You will have to be satisfied with that.”

Raven intended to apologize for her grandfather’s animosity once they were out of earshot, but Michael O’Malley was waiting for her directly outside the salon door, pacing the hall.

The groom’s expression held despair and remorse and more than a little concern.

“Oh, Miss Raven, I feared…Sure and I had to see for myself that you were all right,” he said in his Irish lilt.

“I’m fine, O’Malley, truly.”

Beside her, she felt Lasseter stiffen at the name. He eyed the groom sharply but didn’t comment.

“Who was the bastard responsible?” O’Malley demanded. “That scurvy case Lasseter, was it?”

“Yes,” Raven murmured, “but please keep your voice down. I don’t want it advertised. In fact, I intend to try to put it behind me.” She hesitated. “This is his brother, Mr. Kell Lasseter. He has agreed to wed me, O’Malley.”

“Wed?” The elderly groom looked shocked for a moment, before his gaze narrowed in piercing scrutiny. “Saints preserve us.”

The two men regarded each other with almost dislike while Raven quietly explained the need for her unexpected union.

“I ken you’ve no choice, Miss Raven,” O’Malley finally said with reluctance, “but I mean to accompany you. I’ll not let you out of my sight again.”

She looked to Lasseter, whose expression was grim. “Please?” she asked. “May he come with me?”

To her surprise and gratitude, Lasseter nodded. “He can act as a witness for the ceremony. And no doubt you will want someone nearby to protect you in case my abusive tendencies get out of hand.”

It was said with irony, but Raven chose not to press the issue. Instead she had a footman retrieve a cane for Kell to use and then led the way outside, where her valise was being loaded in the boot of the waiting coach. When the task was finished, O’Malley climbed up to join the coachman while Lasseter handed Raven inside and then settled beside her.

Soon they were off, but they had gone barely half a block before Lasseter spoke.

“Your groom is Irish.” It was not a question.

“Yes. He was in service to the Kendrick family when my parents wed, and he decided to accompany them to the Caribbean. Actually O’Malley has been like a father to me. He practically raised me.”

“He’s the one who taught you to shoot.”

“Yes…that among other things.”

Lasseter’s mouth curled at her admission. “I wonder that you allow him to serve you in such an intimate capacity. Your relatives obviously scorn anything Irish.”

“I am not my relatives,” Raven assured him in a stern voice.

She couldn’t tell from Lasseter’s enigmatic expression what he felt about that, but she was inclined to think her groom’s being Irish was the only reason he’d granted her request to have the servant go with her. She’d seen Kell Lasseter’s anger when her grandfather had derided his bloodlines. In fact, she’d caught the slightest glimmer of hurt mixed with the fury in his dark eyes, the slightest vulnerability. His Irish blood was unquestionably a sensitive matter with him.

“Is Kell an Irish name?” she asked curiously.

“It’s Gaelic. Short for Kellach. It means something like ‘strife.’ ”

She repressed a smile but couldn’t resist replying, “Rather fitting, I should think.”

The responsive flicker in his dark eyes might have been amusement, but the glance he gave her was unreadable. “Kell is actually my middle name, the one my mother gave me. Sean chose to use his Irish name as well.”

Any humor Raven felt disappeared abruptly at the mention of his brother, while her misgivings returned full force as a wretched thought occurred to her. Sean Lasseter would shortly become her brother-in-law.

Frowning, she hesitantly broached her concern. “After tonight your brother and I will be related by marriage. But I…it will be difficult for me to treat him with civility. I would prefer to have nothing to do with him.”

“I see no reason why you should have to deal with him,” Kell responded without inflection.

“But he may not consider his vengeance complete. I might even need protection from him.”

She saw Kell’s jaw harden momentarily before he spoke. “I will see to it that he doesn’t abuse you again.”

Deciding to be content with his assurance, Raven lapsed into silence for the rest of the journey.

At length the coach turned off the main road and onto a smooth gravel drive. The well-kept grounds were landscaped with lush foliage that offered occasional glimpses of the Thames River. And when they drew to a halt, Raven found herself impressed. The house seemed more a mansion than a country cottage, large and elegant and built of mellow red brick.

“Is this your home?” she asked Kell. “Or do you use it primarily for diversions?”

“Diversions?”

“I’m aware that gentlemen often have pleasure houses for the purpose of keeping a mistress.”

He glanced at her for a long moment, but his reply was less forthcoming than Raven could have wished. “This is indeed a pleasure house, but it is unoccupied at the moment.”

“Because you already have Emma Walsh? Is she your mistress?”

One dark brow lifted sardonically. “I offered to wed you, Miss Kendrick. Not to divulge the details of my personal life.”

Raven found herself flushing. “I simply wanted to know the circumstances of our relationship so I would not be caught off guard.”

“I believe we agreed to live separate lives. Are you acting the managing wife before we are even wed?”

“No, of course not!” Raven retorted, stung by the accusation.

Thankfully O’Malley came around just then to hand her down from the carriage. But it was Kell who escorted her up the front steps. As he ushered her inside the house, his touch on the small of her back sent a sensual shock rippling down her spine. Raven was glad he was eager for them to live apart. Enduring such close proximity with Kell Lasseter day after day would be unnerving in the extreme.

The interior of the house was just as elegant as the environs, not at all the sort of residence she would think of as belonging to a gamester…or to a gamester’s mistress.

They were met by a butler and housekeeper, who were apparently a couple. If the Goodhopes were startled by their master’s announcement of his impending marriage, they were too well disciplined to show it. Kell ordered Miss Kendrick’s valise unloaded and a bedchamber prepared for her, but he waited until the servants had left to execute their respective tasks before he spoke again.

“It may take me the better part of the day to arrange for a special license at Doctor’s Commons and to engage a clergyman. While I’m away, you can make use of the drawing room”-he pointed toward a door off the entrance hall-“or perhaps you would prefer to rest.”

Raven shook her head. She’d had little genuine sleep the previous night, but at the moment she had more pressing matters on her mind than rest. “I should write Halford as soon as possible.”

He nodded. “I will have one of my grooms deliver your letter.”

“If it is all the same to you, I would rather send O’Malley. I don’t care to trust such an important commission to a stranger. His grace is not likely to take the news well, and it would be better if only O’Malley were there to witness his reaction.”

“I suppose so.” Kell made a scoffing sound deep in his throat. “Halford is as pompous and stiff-necked as they come. I can’t imagine how you ever came to be betrothed to him in the first place. He hardly seems to be your type-Never mind,” Kell said curtly. “I can imagine. Doubtless you were enamored of his title.”

Raven felt herself wince. He wouldn’t understand her determination to make a magnificent match, or her distress at having those plans shattered. “I don’t deny,” she admitted, “that his title was one of his strongest suits.”

She saw Kell’s mouth harden with something like contempt, but then he shrugged. “Do whatever you like. But you may consider the staff at your disposal. It isn’t large, but Mrs. Goodhope can send a maid to attend you later.”

“I can make do without a lady’s maid.”

He looked skeptical.

“Truly, I managed to dress myself for years,” Raven said. “Servants were a luxury when I was growing up. Not until I came to England did I have anyone to wait on me.”

Kell’s dark brows drew together as if she’d surprised him once again, but he made no comment. “Very well, then. I will see you this evening.”

He started to turn away, but Raven stopped him. “Mr. Lasseter…Kell…I am grateful for your…sacrifice. I know this is not what you planned for your future.”

His mouth curled in a cynical half smile that was not unattractive. “I can only conclude my innate chivalry overcame my good sense.”

“Even so, I should like to thank you.”

“You can thank me once your reputation is safe.” He hesitated before giving her a pointed glance. “You realize, of course, that we will have to consummate our union. Unless you want there to be a question about the legitimacy of our marriage.”

Raven’s breath suddenly escaped her. She hadn’t thought that far ahead. “I…suppose you are right.”

His smile was humorless. “Are you certain you don’t wish to withdraw now, Miss Kendrick? The prospect of sharing my bed doesn’t intimidate you?”

She gazed up at him, at his strong, chiseled features. She was indeed intimidated. The scar slashing across one high cheekbone marred his masculine beauty and suggested he was capable of violence, while those midnight eyes were heart-stoppingly intense. His mere glance made her quiver inside-as did the thought of making love to him.

“It need only be once, isn’t that so?” she murmured finally.

“Yes, it need only be once.” The edge of determination in his voice implied that he didn’t relish the obligation any more than she did. “Until tonight then.”

With a brief bow, he left her standing there staring after him.

Alone, Raven bit her lower lip, wondering if she was making a terrible mistake by allying herself so intimately with a perfect stranger. Especially one so compelling as Lasseter. He was dark, dangerous, and handsome as sin, with a damn-your-eyes attitude that was inexplicably appealing-the precise opposite of the husband she wanted. Despite her every instinct of self-preservation and common sense, she was attracted to him against her will. The heat and vitality that throbbed from him set her every nerve ending on edge. And the thought of the night to come…

If her sensual memories of last night were anything to judge by, Kell Lasseter would make an exceptional lover.

Shutting her eyes, Raven made a sound of distress deep in her throat. She didn’t want an exceptional lover. She didn’t need a real lover when she had her pirate. For tonight, however, there was no hope for it. She would have to become Lasseter’s wife in truth.

She took a deep breath to steady herself. Surely she could manage to resist his dangerous appeal for one night.

Determinedly attempting to dismiss her chaotic thoughts, Raven made her way to the drawing room to compose what was certain to be a difficult letter to her former betrothed.

It took over an hour, as well as a half dozen drafts before Raven was satisfied with her letter to Halford, explaining how she had been stolen on her wedding day by a man who’d captured her heart long ago.

She didn’t like having to lie to him but felt the tale was necessary not merely to save her reputation, but to provide a balm to Halford’s wounded dignity. The duke had an immense sense of pride, and she had savaged it, however unintentionally. Thus she was glad that her heartfelt apology had a sincere ring of truth.

And even in the midst of her misery, she couldn’t deny a vague feeling of relief that she wouldn’t be required to wed Halford after all. Losing him wasn’t the devastating blow it might have been had she truly loved him.

Forcibly ignoring her despondent thoughts, Raven sanded and sealed her letter, then sent for O’Malley and commissioned him to deliver it for her. A mistake, she realized, for it gave him the opportunity to quiz her relentlessly about her decision to wed the man whose brother had made her life a misery.

“I’ve heard tell of Lasseter, Miss Raven,” the groom protested almost as vocally as her grandfather had done earlier. “His reputation is shady, without a doubt.”

“I know all about his reputation,” Raven replied quietly. “But I have to believe it is much exaggerated.”

“But his brother-”

“Kell is nothing like his brother, O’Malley; I am certain of that. If he were, nothing could induce me to wed him. But as you said, I have little choice. Marrying Mr. Lasseter is the only possible way to extricate myself from this disaster.”

“Maybe so,” O’Malley agreed with grave reluctance, “but I’d not like to see you hurt again.”

“I know. But the worst is over.” She gave him a smile of reassurance and repeated her arguments until he finally abandoned the fight and complied with her request to deliver her letter.

When he was gone, Raven sighed. She couldn’t take O’Malley to task for exceeding the bounds of the servant-mistress relationship, for he enjoyed the status of an old friend, and she knew he worried for her. He had looked after her since she was a young girl.

She felt her stomach clench with familiar anguish as she recalled the first time the groom had consoled her. She had been ten years old at the time, nearly dancing in anticipation of attending the birthday celebration of the Honorable Miss Jane Hewitt. Eleven-year-old Jane was the daughter of the highest-ranking nobleman on the island, and all children of the Quality had been invited.

Raven, however, had made the mistake of asking her stepfather for a new dress-a request Ian Kendrick not only denied but maliciously ridiculed.

“You will not need a new dress, Raven, because you are not going. A bastard does not belong in such elite company.” He eyed her coldly, making a scoffing sound. “You would never have been invited were your low origins known.”

Bastard. Savage pain sliced through Raven at the vicious word, and it was all she could do to hold back her tears. It wasn’t that she needed or even wanted a fancy dress; she was much more at home in her worn riding habit than flounces and ribbons. But to be forcibly excluded because of her birth, and worse, to suffer her stepfather’s implied threat to tell the world about her origins…His cruelty made her stomach churn.

She had fled to the stables and hid in the hayloft, where O’Malley found her sobbing her heart out. Hunkering down beside her, he eventually coaxed from her the reason for her grief.

“I am a bastard, O’Malley. I will never be anything better. I am a nobody.”

“ ’Tis not true, Miss Raven. You’re a beautiful young lady, I’ll be thinking. And who sired you isn’t as important as who you are inside, here.” He touched his chest.

“But I have no father.”

“If you want a da, I’ll be your da.” He patted her shoulder. “There now, dry your tears and come with me to see the new filly. She’s a beauty, with a coat as black as your hair…”

Ian Kendrick had died two years later, but Raven had never extinguished her private fear of being publicly branded a bastard.

Nor was it only her mother who had dreamed of the day Raven could travel to England and take her place among the nobility, of when she could prove herself worthy of joining the elite ranks that would have scorned her had they known the truth.

With an illustrious title attached to her name, Raven was certain, she could bury the secret shame of her past once and for all. No one would dare utter a word against her when she was a duchess. And at last she would belong somewhere.

But now those dreams of belonging had been shattered.

Steeling herself against the bitter despair roiling inside her, Raven forced herself to ring for the housekeeper. She had felt alone for most of her life; she could endure it again if need be.

She managed to choke down a light tea, but by the time she went upstairs to the bedchamber she’d been allotted, her feeling of hopelessness had returned full force. All the tension and emotional turmoil of the past day had taken a toll, leaving her with only desolation.

The thought of dressing for her wedding was more than she could face. Perhaps she would feel better if she could just rest for a moment.

Slipping out of her borrowed gown, she undressed down to her shift, then crawled beneath the covers and closed her eyes. In only an instant she had fallen asleep, but it was a slumber troubled by restless dreams of her fantasy lover.

His anger was something new. His eyes burned like black coals as his hands twined in her hair, tilting her mouth roughly up to his. Raven drew a sharp breath at his painful assault. He had never acted this violently before.

“You cannot love him,” her pirate snarled against her lips. “He will never own your heart.”

“No,” she promised, “never. Only you can possess my heart.”

He drew back, and she gave a start as the glitter of his gaze swept over her. This was not her pirate! He had the same intense, burning eyes, and his handsome features held the same anger. But this was Kell Lasseter.

His face filled her vision, harsh with emotion, savage with demand. He was a beautiful devil, infinitely more dangerous than her pirate lover.

Alarmed, she pressed her palms against his chest, encountering corded muscle and searing heat. She felt the forceful beat of his heart along with the frantic trembling of her own as she met his scathing glance. He was wildly angry at her-for hurting his brother, for being trapped into marriage.

And yet she was angry at him as well, for ruining her plans, destroying her life. She stared back defiantly.

His mouth crushed down over hers then, claiming her lips in a brutal kiss. Her senses reeling, she tried to fight the shivers that suffused her body. She ached to repudiate him, to conquer him. It was as if they were battling for control…a duel of desire that neither of them could win.

She could feel his angry passion as he drew her hard against him. Heard herself whimper as he thrust his tongue ruthlessly into her mouth, his kiss hot and compelling.

She arched against the steel band of his arm, but he pulled her closer, grinding his loins into hers, rubbing the hard ridge of his manhood against her soft mound. Her nipples tightened unbearably, while a similar ache throbbed in her lower body.

Her thighs were clamped together, but he managed to slide one finger between them, finding her hot, honeyed crease. A shudder rocked her, and he made a rough sound of satisfaction, thrusting even deeper into her slick, swollen flesh folds.

Helplessly she parted her legs and opened to him fully. She couldn’t deny the hunger of her body. This was what she craved, the hard fierce lovemaking of this incredible man. Their mouths locked together, and she felt herself surrender to the wild, lashing urgency…

A low, insistent voice calling her name brought her out of her disturbing dreams. Raven froze to see her lover sitting beside her on the bed. No, not her lover. Her soon-to-be husband. Kell Lasseter had one hip resting on the mattress, a hand pressed against her arm to urge her awake.

In the lamplight, his features looked starkly sensual, reminding her of his fierce passion in her dreams. When she met his dark, unsettling eyes, the power sent a shock wave rippling through her.

Her body was aching shamelessly for him. Did he know what she had been dreaming?

Just then his gaze strayed lower, and Raven felt her face flush. She had thrown off most of the covers, while the bodice of her shift had slipped down over one shoulder, exposing the swell of her breast.

Flustered, she crossed her arm over her bosom to shield herself, but Kell pretended not to have seen her immodest display.

“It’s time,” he said simply, his grim tone more that of a man facing execution than his nuptials.