Ecstasy

Chapter Seven

Her wedding was nothing like Raven had planned. Instead of an elegant church ceremony with hundreds of elite guests in attendance, her marriage took place in the drawing room of a country pleasure house, with O’Malley and the Goodhopes to serve as witnesses. She wore a simple, long-sleeved gown of lilac kerseymere, with her hair dressed in a plain knot at her nape.

Her intended husband, too, was vastly different from the nobleman she’d expected to be united with in holy matrimony. Instead of possessing an illustrious title and vast estates, her darkly handsome groom owned a gaming hell and was shrouded in scandal. And he was certainly not the safe, comfortable spouse she had wanted. There was nothing safe or comfortable about Kell Lasseter.

As she listened to the ritual words that would bind her to him for life, Raven realized her trepidation must be showing, for halfway through the exchange of vows, Kell bent to murmur bracingly in her ear, “Smile, vixen. You’re about to be wed, not attend a funeral.”

She stiffened her spine and managed to pledge her troth in a reasonably composed tone, but all too swiftly it was over. Ordinarily a celebration would have followed. Had she wed her duke yesterday, she would have enjoyed a sumptuous wedding breakfast. Instead, a light repast was to be served in the dining room for the bridal couple alone.

Raven, however, temporarily forgot her misgivings when she accompanied her new husband there, for she saw him limping, even with his cane.

“My leg stiffened after all the jarring travel today,” he replied to her questioning glance.

Remorse returned to smite her. “Is there something I can do to help?”

“No. But I’m afraid you will have to take the lead tonight. I am not fit for the normal exertions expected of a bridegroom.”

Reminded of the night to come, Raven felt her stomach muscles clench.

Throughout dinner, she merely toyed with her food, a thrumming awareness of her new husband setting all her nerves on edge. She answered his every attempt at conversation with monosyllables.

Her reserve puzzled Kell at first. Last night in his bed, she had been so flame hot, so hungry for him, that she’d practically torn his clothes off. But then last night she had been suffering under the influence of a powerful aphrodisiac. And she hadn’t known who he was-a half-Irish gamester who was rumored to be a murderer.

Resentment returned to settle in his gut. The fact that Raven Kendrick had a beloved Irish groom and professed not to be repulsed by his Irish roots didn’t convince Kell that she was different from the other contemptuous, purebred English members of her class. Certainly his blue-blooded bride would be comparing him to the duke she should have wed. And naturally she would find a mere commoner sorely lacking.

Kell’s fingers tightened reflexively around his wineglass-but then he swore at himself. What the devil did it matter what his bride thought of him? After tonight they would not need to see much of each other.

Yet that galled him as well. Raven considered him good enough to save her from disaster but not good enough to make a life with her as her husband-even if he didn’t in the least want that sort of life with her.

He wanted her, though. Kell bit back an oath. The pain of his wound throbbed less than the pain in his groin.

“Shall we retire?” he said finally, struggling to control his foul mood.

His wife visibly stiffened. And when Kell pushed back his chair and came around the table to help her rise, she hesitated, staring up at him with wide blue eyes.

“I thought you said you were not afraid of me,” he said tightly.

She bit her lower lip. “I am not, really.”

“Then stop looking like a frightened doe. I have no intention of assaulting you. Sex is more pleasurable when the woman is willing.”

His sardonic comment made her chin rise, which was precisely what Kell had hoped for. He preferred her blue eyes flashing defiance, for then he wouldn’t experience the illogical feeling that he was taking advantage of her.

Kell stood back as she rose and, with a gesture of his arm, invited her to precede him from the room. He escorted her upstairs to the master bedchamber and let her enter first. The room was softly lit by a single lamp, while a fire burned warmly in the hearth-perfectly appropriate for a bridal couple on their wedding night.

As he closed the door behind them, he saw Raven stop and take stock of the huge bed with its brocade curtains. The covers had been turned down invitingly. Her glance quickly shied away to focus on anything else.

“I suppose this is where you conduct your orgies?” she asked-whether out of belligerence or curiosity or merely to buy time, he wasn’t certain.

“What would a well-bred young lady know about orgies?” he drawled.

“Several gentlemen of my acquaintance are members of the Hellfire League, and I’ve heard rumors… It isn’t difficult to guess what sort of wicked perversions occur at their gatherings.”

The Hellfire League, Kell knew, was a notorious group of rakes and adventurers. But he had never been invited to join their distinguished ranks.

“I haven’t conducted an orgy in quite some time,” Kell said dryly.

“You cannot make me believe you are not a rake.”

“Then I won’t attempt to,” he retorted. “But I will say that I prefer one bed partner at a time. And that I am not particularly fond of perversions.”

When she clasped her fingers together and looked away, he decided she was simply nervous.

“If it will reassure you, vixen, I’ll promise to try to control my rakehell lusts. Should I fail, you can always shoot me again.”

At his deliberate taunt, her chin shot up while a frown scored her beautiful features. “I said I was sorry for that.”

Kell sighed. “So you did. Let’s just get this over with, shall we?”

He started to remove his cravat and found Raven staring at him again. “It is customary to get undressed before bed, madam wife.”

“Must we…so soon? I scarcely know you.”

“You weren’t nearly this shy last night.”

“But I was drugged last night. I recall little about what happened.”

Kell studied her, wondering at the truth of her claim. It was possible that in her drugged state she hadn’t been entirely aware of her actions or how passionate her response had been. It irked him that he was the only one who remembered their scorching, unforgettable night together. Yet he couldn’t credit that she was as innocent as she was pretending.

“Allow me to refresh your memory then. You nearly ravished me. You weren’t the least intimidated.”

“That is because…I mistook you for someone else.”

“Someone else?” There was a sharp edge to his voice that Kell recognized as jealousy. Raven was a virgin, he would swear to it, but that didn’t preclude her from giving out other sexual favors freely. “Then you admit you’ve had other lovers?”

“No, not exactly. Not…a real lover.”

His eyebrow shot up. “Perhaps you should explain.”

“I don’t think you would understand.”

“Indulge me.”

Restlessly she moved over to the hearth and began to pace, still clenching her hands. “I’m not at all as experienced as you think me. I have never told anyone this before, but I…I created a lover in my fantasies.” Her cheeks flushed with evident embarrassment, she cast him a swift glance as if to see the effect of her confession.

“Do go on. I am fascinated. Why would you have need to create a lover when there are doubtless scores of men who would jump at the chance to fulfill that role for you?” Kell asked skeptically.

“Because…as I’m sure you know…well-bred ladies cannot take real lovers without risking disgrace.” She hesitated, looking more discomposed than he’d ever seen her. “And because, well, it is much safer that way. One cannot truly fall in love with a fantasy.”

“And falling in love concerns you?”

“Well, yes.” She seemed actually flustered by his questions.

“So you invented an imaginary lover?”

“Yes,” she admitted with obvious reluctance. Her voice dropped to a mere murmur. “A pirate, in fact.”

Kell found himself at a loss for words; once again Raven had startled him with her uniqueness. He thought back to the previous night, remembering how she had addressed him, calling him “my pirate.” She had evidently mistaken him for her lover-which might explain her eagerness but not her unmistakable sexual experience.

“You must have a very vivid imagination,” he said finally. “But that doesn’t explain how you learned the carnal skills you practiced on me last night. You knew precisely how to arouse me.”

“Well, if you must know…” Her flush deepened. “I have a book-a rare book-an erotic journal written by a Frenchwoman who was once captured by Turkish corsairs. It is the tale of her grand passion and is quite…enlightening about carnal matters. My mother left the journal in her personal effects for me to have when I was old enough.”

“Your mother?”

“I knew you wouldn’t understand.”

Kell stared at her. Her answer was just far-fetched enough that he could almost believe she hadn’t made it up out of whole cloth. “Then educate me. Why would your mother want you to be enlightened about carnal matters?”

“Because she meant the book to be a warning to me,” Raven replied uneasily. “Before I was born, my mother fell in love with someone entirely inappropriate. She spent her life futilely nursing her obsession, but in her final days, she grew to lament wasting her life away on her grand passion. By leaving me the book, she intended to remind me of the devastating effect love can have. That love is like a potent drug. It can take over your sanity, destroy common sense and logic. A woman who loves has no power over her life.” Involuntarily Raven clenched her fists. “I vowed long ago I would never follow in her footsteps.”

She glanced at Kell to see how he was receiving her explanation. The expression in his black eyes was shielded by his long lashes.

“And you are worried that you might fall in love with me?” he asked slowly.

“Well…I…” Raven found herself stammering at having her biggest fear stated so baldly. “I don’t wish to fall in love with you-or any other man, for that matter-or for you to fall for me, as your brother claims to have done.”

She saw a muscle tighten in Kell’s jaw at the reminder of their present circumstances. “I suspect there is little danger of us falling in love. Ours is a marriage of convenience, nothing more. I have no intention of joining the legions of men who have succumbed to your charms.”

“I assure you, I don’t wish you to succumb,” Raven said rather tartly, feeling defensive once more.

“What is this, vixen? Wounded vanity?”

At the edge of mockery in his tone, she bristled. “I wouldn’t be wounded in the least if you forgot about my existence altogether.”

“I shall strive to do just that-immediately after we consummate our union.”

That made Raven abruptly fall silent. In the interval, her new husband began to remove his shirt. She watched as he revealed a torso sleekly ridged with muscle, his chest lightly furred with whorls of black hair.

Assaulted by a fresh attack of nerves at the imminent prospect of seeing him naked, she worried her lower lip. “You don’t have to undress entirely, do you?”

“No. But it will be more conducive to passion. You may not recall, but I had little opportunity for sleep last night. Considering my fatigue and the pain of my bullet wound, I suspect it will take more than the prospect of a perfunctory coupling to arouse me.”

His lack of eagerness wasn’t at all flattering, but he seemed determined to go through with the bedding. He sat to remove his boots and breeches, wincing now and then as he completely undressed.

A neat bandage wrapped his lower thigh, Raven saw, but it was the rest of him that captured her unwilling attention. His lean body rippled with muscle, while firelight played across his skin. He was quite beautiful, heaven help her.

Involuntarily she followed the fine line of dark hair down his chest to his naked loins and drew a slow breath. He was every bit as virile as she had imagined him to be-and far more intimidating. Making love to a fantasy would not be the same as giving her body to this man…a very real, very tangible, warm flesh and blood lover.

Realizing he was watching her, she averted her gaze from his all too piercing eyes. But only momentarily. When he rose and moved toward her, she was drawn once again into the intensity of his gaze. He looked much like her pirate lover, except that the flickering shadows made his face look even darker, more dangerous. Just like in her recent disturbing dream.

It was all she could do to remain still when he stopped merely inches from her. Unconsciously Raven reached up to touch his chiseled cheekbone, brushing the jagged line of his scar.

“Does my disfigured face repulse you?” he asked quietly.

The question startled her. He was a stunningly attractive man, with the devil’s own beauty, and no scar could diminish his sensual appeal. In fact it only added to his allure, heightening his aura of danger and rousing a forbidden excitement deep within her. And yet it hurt to think of the pain he must have endured.

“No, it doesn’t repulse me,” she replied just as softly. “Though I did wonder how you came by it.”

He frowned. “It isn’t a pretty tale.”

Grasping her fingers, he held her hand away, dismissing her curiosity just as easily. “I was serious when I said the honors will have to fall to you, vixen.”

“I…I’m not certain what you mean.”

“I mean that I will have to be beneath you. My covering you would severely strain my injured leg. So you will have to take the initiative.”

“Oh.” She flushed at the disturbing image that his plain speaking brought to mind. “I don’t think I would know where to begin.”

“You just said that your journal has given you an adequate carnal education.”

“Yes, but reading about it is different from actually-”

“Perhaps you should use that vivid imagination of yours, then.” When she returned a puzzled frown, Kell amended his suggestion. “You can start by kissing me.”

Shutting her eyes, she raised her face and obediently pressed her lips to his-with no reaction. She’d expected him to ravage her mouth, as in her dream, but he remained as cold and unresponsive as a statue.

She pressed harder and felt a slight stirring of warmth in his lips. A moment later, his arms came around her, but his kiss was still tentative, reluctant, as if he were forcing himself even to touch her.

More determined now, Raven slid her fingers through the heavy, dark waves of his hair and drew his face closer. The resultant spark that flared between them was unmistakable.

And she had succeeded in arousing him, she realized. When he pulled her against him, letting her feel the swollen ridge of his erection against the softness of her belly, Raven swallowed a gasp.

In response, he lifted his head to stare down at her, unsmiling. She was certain he could see the flare of mingled desire and panic in her eyes. He knew what was happening to her, how her heart beat unevenly, how her skin had become overheated.

He truly kissed her then. No longer holding back, he bent his head and covered her lips with his, like a man intent on claiming what was his. His tongue moved deep into her mouth in a kiss that was everything she’d ever fantasized and more.

Raven heard herself moan. She should try to resist his allure, she knew, but he made her feel so faint and hot, so unlike herself. Warmth was gathering in her body, seeping down to pool in her loins.

He pulled back without speaking, still staring at her. His lashes were absurdly long for a man, she thought, black as ink, framing eyes that burned.

He silently undressed her then, unfastening the buttons of her gown and slipping it off her shoulders for her to step out of. His expression tightened in sympathy when he caught sight of her bruised wrists, but he continued wordlessly, removing her slippers and peeling down her stockings, then attending to her corset and chemise, tossing the garments aside one by one until she stood naked and defenseless before him.

She quivered as his black velvet eyes slowly swept over her…her breasts, her waist, her hips, her legs… Raven felt a scalding heat wherever his eyes touched, while a throbbing ache began to pulse between her thighs-

Drawing a deep breath, she tried to ignore the longing that was flooding her. She needn’t surrender to her wanton desires. She needed only to get through this night and then she would be free of him.

But it was difficult to remain unaffected when he stood so close. She could feel the heat from his body as he removed the pins from her hair, unraveled the knot at her nape, smoothed out her raven tresses. His eyes were so beautiful, dark as midnight and just as fathomless.

Without a word then, he turned away. She followed the graceful motion of his body with unwilling fascination-his broad shoulders that tapered to narrow hips and taut buttocks, his powerful thighs and sinewed calves that evidenced he was a sportsman. And when he settled himself on the bed and leaned back against the pillows, she was far too aware of his massive erection.

“Come here, Raven.” He touched the mattress beside him.

Almost helplessly, she moved to join him, climbing up to kneel beside him. When she gave him a questioning glance, though, he remained impassive.

He expected her to take the lead, she remembered; she was responsible for arousing him, not the reverse. Yet the chance to retain control actually relieved Raven, since it would give him less power over her.

“What should I do?” she murmured.

“Whatever you wish. You’ll know soon enough what I think of it.”

She glanced down at him, wary of his enormous, pulsing size. Tentatively, she leaned forward and pressed her hands against his chest, feeling smooth, hot flesh over corded muscles, dusted with silken hair. His expression never changed, but when her exploring hands traveled over the hard ridges of muscle and lower to his flat, hard belly, she felt tension quiver through him.

Bolder now, she moved her hand even lower to his blatant erection, letting the surging, silky flesh brush her knuckles. His rampant member jerked involuntarily, making her breath catch. Raven bit her lip. She could imagine having that engorged length inside her, like in her fantasies.

Treacherous excitement spread through her body at the thought and made her breasts ache.

Gathering her control, she trailed her hand lower, letting her fingers curl around him. When his breath drew harshly between his teeth, she looked up, caught by the hypnotizing heat of his eyes.

His hot vitality seemed to thrum through her. The very firelight seemed to caress his male features…the skin pulled taut over high cheekbones, the stark line of his scar. She felt the strangest urge to touch that old wound, along with an inexplicable anger at whoever had hurt him.

Determinedly quelling her sympathetic urges, she tried to remember what she had learned from the journal about arousing a man. Holding her breath, she bent down to taste him with her tongue. A shudder ran through him, sending a sense of power into Raven. It was a heady feeling, knowing she could evoke such a response from him.

But then he deliberately took control from her. He reached out to cup her breasts, the heat from his palms searing her skin. Her nipples changed in a rush, answering the caress of his hands.

When she would have pulled back, his fingers tightened on the stiff crests, sending shocking waves of sensation rippling through her. Her resolve weakening, she shut her eyes and let him have his way.

His touch was magical as he continued to stroke and squeeze her throbbing breasts, arousing her with controlled expertise, obviously skilled in the art of prolonging pleasure. Then drawing her forward, he bit her nipple with his teeth, hurting her and yet not hurting her.

With a moan, Raven arched against his mouth, offering herself to him. As if he knew what she needed, he sucked her nipple, his tongue lightly flicking the turgid peak. Then without breaking contact, he reached down and slipped his hand between her thighs to touch the swollen dampness there. She was slick with her own desire, Raven realized as his touch dredged a whimper from deep in her throat.

She almost came off the bed when slowly he slid two fingers inside her, penetrating her heated tightness. Her thighs closed reflexively around his hand, and she squirmed restlessly, remembering how he had done precisely this last night. But this time she was totally aware of the man who was giving her such pleasure.

In a slow, tantalizing rhythm, his deft fingers withdrew and penetrated again. Breathless, she clutched at his shoulders, incapable of defense against the explosive sensation centering in the shimmering core of her body. His thumb found the dewy bud of her sex then, stroking, teasing, while his fingers continued gently thrusting, urging her closer and closer toward the edge of an orgasmic precipice.

The sensual pressure built relentlessly until her hips writhed, until she thought she could bear no more.

“Now, vixen,” he commanded, his dark eyes glittering in the firelight.

She needed no further encouragement. Almost blind with need, she straddled his hips, instinctively trying to avoid putting pressure on his wound.

His palms shaped the backs of her thighs, lifting her up, positioning her where he wanted her, the searing tip of his shaft poised at the very heart of her.

Fierce, urgent longing gathered in the pit of her belly. She held her breath as he gripped his hard shaft and very gently eased its silken head into her quivering flesh, growing rigid when he lowered her slowly onto him, guiding her.

She gasped at the alien feel of him, at his fullness stretching her, and gave a soft cry at the moment of sharp pain. Instantly he stilled, waiting for her to become accustomed to the penetration of his rigid flesh.

“Steady,” he murmured, moving one hand to gently stroke the base of her spine while his lips pressed light, soothing kisses over her face. “Try to relax.”

She was panting softly, but he held her still, letting her accept his invasion. And in a short while the pain began to fade.

“Better?” he asked softly, as if reading her expression.

She nodded, staring into eyes that seemed to scorch her with searing heat. Those burning eyes were so much like her pirate’s, and yet her imaginary lover had never made her feel this particular way…stunned, breathless, overwhelmed by sensation…as if she might erupt in flames at any moment.

Reaching down between their bodies, he cupped her soft triangle of curls and resumed his delicate tormenting, caressing that wonderful point of pleasure with his circling thumb.

She couldn’t fight the growing rapture; she could only cling to him, her breath coming in short, ragged gasps.

Holding her hips steady, he pressed upward with his rampant length, urging her thighs wider to take more of him. And then he kissed her, his tongue plunging deep while his tumescence seemed to swell inside her, filling her to near bursting.

This is what I have been missing, she thought, dazed. This incredible intimacy, this joining, this merging with a passionate man made of real flesh and bone. A magnificent lover she could feel and taste and smell. His very heat ignited fiery sparks in her blood…

The primal force of it excited her beyond anything she’d ever known. The fierceness rising in her made her arch and mold to him, as if she could make him part of herself.

Gritting his teeth, visibly striving for control, he thrust upward one last time. The sensual fury that seized Raven was so intense, she shuddered and cried out, shaking in spasms of ecstasy.

Beneath her his body clenched as he was caught in the wild delirium. At the last instant, though, he lifted her up urgently so they were no longer joined. His seed spurted explosively onto her belly, while contractions continued to convulse his lower body.

Her flesh continued to pulse sweetly long after the moment of climax. Raven was dimly aware that she had fallen limply against him, her face buried in his throat. But it took longer for her to realize why he had withdrawn from her. He hadn’t wanted to get her with child.

A strange twinge of sadness pierced her, before common sense caught up with her. She wouldn’t want a child, not if it meant bringing one into the world with an uncaring father.

There had been no chance for her to discuss the matter of children with Kell, Raven reflected. Indeed, she’d been so overwhelmed by the disastrous change in her future that the issue hadn’t even occurred to her until just now. But she doubted the man she had just married would want to be a father to her child. He didn’t even want to be her husband.

Nor, after tonight, her lover.

He was lying still beneath her, his heart thudding against her breast, each beat slow and heavy. Eventually she felt him stir, felt his fingers brush a tress back from her forehead.

“Tell me, does that compare to your fantasy?”

She was startled by his question, spoken in a low husky voice. She was more unnerved to realize her answer. The passion she’d felt a moment ago was more intense, more powerful, than anything she’d experienced during her most erotic sexual fantasies with her imaginary lover. Kell had driven her to a place of wild abandonment, pushing her headlong off the dizzying cliff of desire and need.

Deploring what he had made her feel, she eased off him and onto her side, wincing at the raw ache between her thighs. “I believe I prefer my fantasy,” she prevaricated, avoiding his penetrating gaze. “Illusion is less painful.”

“Did I hurt you?”

“No…not really. At least no more than I expected.”

“Your next time won’t be as painful.”

“There won’t be a next time.”

When she reached down to draw a sheet up to cover her nudity, he stayed her. “Wait a moment.”

He rose from the bed and went to the washstand, returning with a basin and cloth. To Raven’s keen embarrassment, he tugged the sheet from her grasp and used the cloth to clean away the evidence of his seed and her virginity, first from her body and then his own.

His tenderness was at odds with his dark expression, yet other flashes of memory assailed her-of him soothing her the previous night during her drugged fever, of him gratifying her desperate carnal need again and again. The reminder of his searing sensuality set a new throbbing ache pulsing between her thighs.

She was glad when he was done. He allowed her to pull the covers up as he disposed of the basin and turned down the lamp. The red-gold glow of firelight was the only illumination when he returned to bed.

Raven stole an unwilling glance at Kell. He wasn’t her pirate lover, no matter how intimately his dark eyes reminded her of her fantasies, how devastatingly sexy his mouth was, how vulnerable he made her feel.

And the longing he stirred in her was a graver threat than even the scandal she faced. She’d hoped to salvage a shred of reputation from this disaster by wedding him, but it would all be for naught if she fell prey to the madness of desire.

He didn’t look at her as he joined her. Instead he lay back, lacing his hands behind his head, staring thoughtfully up at the brocade canopy.

“You honestly intend to embrace a life of celibacy?” he asked after a moment.

“Yes. Why do you find that so surprising?”

“Because no matter how vivid your imagination or erotic your reading material, it can’t compare to real passion. I’ll wager you will eventually come to regret what you’re missing.”

“I doubt it. My fantasies will be enough.”

He turned his head on the pillow to appraise her. “You realize, of course, that there is such a thing as passion without love?”

“Perhaps, but I don’t intend to take the risk. I won’t take a real lover.”

His mouth curled at one corner. “I suppose that as your husband, I should be gratified. I wouldn’t relish being cuckolded.”

“You needn’t worry on that score.”

“But you don’t expect your proscription against taking lovers to apply to me?”

“No. I have said so more than once.”

Hearing the sincerity in her voice, Kell felt an unaccountable stab of resentment at her tolerant attitude, especially since he couldn’t reciprocate. He couldn’t feel at all tolerant about her making love to other men.

His brows narrowed in a frown. There was a reasonable explanation for his proprietary feelings toward Raven: it was no more than pure primal instinct. By taking her body, by being the first to claim her, he’d created an intimate bond between them as old as the laws of procreation-the primitive animal hunger of a healthy male for a ready female, the exultation of the conqueror. It was only natural that he would feel a certain possessiveness toward his beautiful new wife.

Scoffing at himself, Kell abruptly changed the subject. “We should establish some other rules for our relationship,” he said brusquely. “I have a house in London. You may use it as it suits you, but eventually you will want to find one of your own.”

Her blue eyes searched his. “You don’t mind if I live with you?”

“Whether or not I mind, we will have to reside together for a time if we want to keep up the pretense of a love match. Afterward we can go our separate ways. I will take you there tomorrow.”

“Thank you,” she murmured.

“Why don’t you get some sleep?”

She turned over, giving him her back, her hair a curtain of tousled silk that flowed to the pillows.

It was a long while before Kell heard her breathing soften into a low and even rhythm, longer still before he could relax the tension in his own body.

Despite his exhaustion, however, sleep eluded him, for his thoughts kept returning to their consummation. What should have been a perfunctory coupling had turned far hotter than he’d anticipated-and it had dismayed the hell out of him. Raven was so exquisitely responsive, so startlingly vibrant that he’d wanted to bury himself endlessly in her.

He’d fought his desire. It had taken every ounce of control he possessed to resist her wild sweetness and withdraw from her. That brief, explosive encounter hadn’t been enough to sate him, either. He could still feel the lushness of her slim body moving against him, the hot, soft tightness of her virginal passage as he sheathed himself inside her, the way she fit perfectly in his arms.

The savage rush of hunger that memory inspired made Kell curse.

Unable to help himself, he reached out and caught a stray lock of her silken hair, letting it drift through his fingers.

Raven Kendrick…no, she was Mrs. Kell Lasseter now, his wife. And she was an enigma. A vixen whose spirit and sensuality concealed a deep wariness. If she could be believed, she feared any man whose touch could arouse her passion.

He feared her as well. He’d been shaken by the experience of making love to her. Shaken by her mouth, her touch, her scent. By his own need.

She was a supremely dangerous temptation.

He had no difficulty understanding how she had attracted so many ardent suitors. He could fall for her without much effort-

God, what a disaster that would be!

He would have enough trouble dealing with the aftermath of their sudden marriage. He dreaded having to tell his brother that he’d wed the very woman Sean had once professed to love. And given Raven’s reputation for breaking hearts, his brother’s included, he would be a fool to allow her any further chance to get under his skin.

In that regard, he regretted having to offer her the use of his London house. The last thing he wanted was to be forced to share his home with Raven, where he would be enticed and tormented by her nearness.

Thankfully they needn’t be together often, or in any intimate way. They could ignore each other for the most part. And he could take refuge in his gaming club much of the time.

Turning over, Kell forced himself to close his eyes. Tomorrow he would deliver Raven to his town house, and then he would be done with his duty. Afterward he should be able to dismiss her from his thoughts and focus on his brother. His chief priority would be determining what to do with Sean, Kell reflected grimly.

It only remained for him to crush his unruly feelings for Raven before they grew into something he could no longer control.