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  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.

  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.”