Ecstasy (Notorious 4)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Whatever contrition she had started to feel was instantly dashed. Her irritation was only exacerbated when he perused her oversized gown, lingering on her breasts as if he could see beneath the excess fabric. His probing gaze t

ook liberties with her figure no other man had ever dared, the reprobate.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh, Mama.

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

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

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