“I suppose you keep a mistress. Most men of means do.”
His eyebrows shot up at her plain speaking, but the flush on her cheeks suggested the topic wasn’t a comfortable one for her.
“Truly,” she added, “I wouldn’t mind if you continue to have your paramours.”
“Your generosity overwhelms me,” he drawled.
“Well, you might find our union financially advantageous. I have an adequate income of my own-a fund provided by my…father. And my grandfather promised me a significant dowry when I wed.”
“I don’t require your wealth,” Kell declared, annoyed at her assumption that he could be bought.
She moistened her lips, drawing his attention there against his will. “Well, unless you mean to withdraw your offer, I think I must accept it.”
Still fighting the inevitable, Kell narrowed his own gaze at her. “You really should consider carefully, vixen. I promise you, I would make you a terrible husband.”
Pinning her with his midnight eyes, he moved toward her.
Raven took a defensive step backward, finding his intense stare unnerving. She was still amazed by his offer. And he would no doubt make her a dreadful husband. He was a notorious gamester, a stranger who didn’t even like her. Without question, he would be disagreeable and unmanageable as a spouse. And she had deliberately shot him…
It was a marriage doomed to failure. But she had little choice in the matter. Any husband would be better than no husband at all. She needed him.
“Are you certain you want to be my wife?” he murmured. When he grasped her elbow in a velvet grip, Raven felt her breath catch.
“Well?” His silken tone made her shiver, and so did his nearness.
Her gaze focused on his scarred cheek, which suddenly made him seem menacing, then shifted lower to his striking, sensual mouth, which was even more dangerous. Did he intend to kiss her? Her pulse quickened into a rapid, erratic rhythm.
But he didn’t kiss her. Instead his arms folded tightly about her in a merciless embrace that wouldn’t permit her to move. The surge of primal heat shocked her body into stillness; the hot darkness of his gaze filled her with the stunning memory of how he’d pleasured her all through the night…
“Aren’t you afraid of me, Miss Kendrick?”
Was she afraid of him? He was an intense, dangerous man, with a hot vitality that seemed to charge the very air she breathed. She should fear for her virtue at the very least. Yet inexplicably she didn’t fear him. Perhaps because she had seen him so many times in her fantasies.
His eyes glittered darkly, reminding her so keenly of her pirate lover.
“No…I am not afraid of you,” she managed to whisper unsteadily. “Especially not when I think you are deliberately trying to intimidate me.”
He stared down at her a long moment, his eyes unreadable. “I can’t frighten you away then?”
“No, sir, you cannot.”
His mouth compressed in a sardonic line. “My name is not sir.”
“Mr. Lasseter, then.”
“My name is Kell. Say it.”
“Kell, then. I am not afraid of you, Kell.”
She felt her heart pounding as she waited an interminable moment for his response.
Cursing under his breath then, he abruptly released her and turned away. For the span of another dozen heartbeats, he stood there, his jaw muscles working as if he were struggling with himself.
Finally he shot her a hooded glance over his shoulder.
“Very well, vixen,” he said, his tone rife with resignation. “We will marry as soon as arrangements can be made.”
Chapter Six