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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 want
ing 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.”