Raven found herself alone when she woke the following morning, much to her relief. She was glad she didn’t have to face her new husband. It was difficult enough to ignore the memories of his exquisite lovemaking.
The twinging ache between her thighs and the tenderness of her nipples brought to mind all too vividly images she would rather forget-of Kell’s burning lips and magical hands and hard, muscular body. Experiencing his passion had far exceeded her expectations and made her long for the familiar safety of her fantasy lover.
Kell had already breakfasted and ordered the horses made ready, she learned when she came downstairs, so she hurriedly swallowed a few bites and joined him at the carriage.
The brief, dismissive glance he gave her set the tone for their relationship and Raven’s mood. Their marriage was to be merely one of convenience, she had to remember. They might be husband and wife, but they would not share confidences or friendship or passion. Evidently Kell intended to begin as they would go on, with a distant civility-which suited Raven perfectly, even if the notion was unaccountably depressing.
They had little to say to each other on the drive to London. Only when they arrived at what was to be her new home did her interest perk up.
The town house stood in a quiet, elegant square-not as grand as her great-aunt’s mansion, but just as luxurious and possibly more tasteful. The front entrance hall was spacious and adorned with various works of art: sculpture and beautiful tapestries and landscapes in oils.
The introductions to his staff, however, proved awkward. The varying degrees of shock and surprise on their faces told Raven very clearly how unexpected their master’s marriage was.
Ignoring their responses, Kell ordered that Mrs. Lasseter be given the chambers adjacent to his and a maid be sent to help her unpack.
When the servants had been dismissed, he addressed Raven directly. “You will likely want to hire your own lady’s maid. This is a bachelor’s residence and not equipped for a mistress.”
“My aunt can probably spare one of hers,” Raven replied evenly.
“Good. And you can have O’Malley fetch your trunks.”
She was grateful he had remembered. Yet she scarcely had time to glance around her before Kell took his leave.
“You are going?” she asked, caught off guard, and immediately regretted sounding so possessive.
“My staff is capable of showing you the house and helping you get settled.”
“Of course,” she murmured, even while wondering what they would think about a newly wedded husband abandoning his bride on his doorstep.
“I have a business to run,” Kell reminded her. “And I must speak to my brother before he hears the news from some other source.”
His dark tone suggested he was not looking forward to the task, and Raven felt her heart sink at the thought of Sean’s reaction. “He won’t be happy to learn of our marriage.”
A muscle flexed in his jaw. “No, but I will see that he respects it. You needn’t worry about Sean.”
She nodded, making no further comment when, with a brief bow, Kell turned to the front door.
She followed his tall, lithe form with her gaze as he let himself from the house. Perhaps it was madness, but Kell inspired in her an illogical sense of safety, at least when it came to his brother. She trusted him to keep his word to shield her. Kell would make a formidable protector, she had little doubt.
Just as he had made a formidable lover last night-with scarcely any effort at all. The memory of his claiming was imprinted vividly on her mind and stamped indelibly between her thighs…
Raven felt herself flushing. Even with her significant exposure to the eroticism of the journal, she couldn’t have anticipated the explosion of passion he’d unleashed in her. Or the aching, overwhelming sense of fulfillment that she’d never found in any of her fantasies. The thought that she would never again know the fire of his touch filled her with a strange melancholy.
Yet she had no right to protest. Kell had already aided her more than once. First by saving her from his brother’s ravishment, then by giving her the protection of his name. She couldn’t ask him for more.
Squaring her shoulders, Raven turned toward the wide staircase. At the moment she had her own difficulties to face. And it looked very much as if she would have to face them alone.
“You are jesting, right?” Sean demanded, staring at his brother.
They were in the library of Sean’s imposing town house-the same London mansion that had been in the Lasseter family for nearly a century.
Unaccustomed to being roused from bed before noon, Sean had thrown a dressing gown over his nightshirt and joined Kell in the bookroom, looking rumpled and bleary-eyed and worse for wear after an obviously hard night of carousing.
“It is no jest, I’m afraid,” Kell replied evenly. “We were wed last evening by special license.”
He watched his brother grow white around the mouth. For a moment Sean said nothing. Then he went to the side table and poured himself a tumblerful of whiskey and tossed it back in a long swallow. When at last he spoke, his voice trembled with rage.
“Forgive me if I find it hard to credit that my own brother would betray me by wedding the vicious slut who ruined my life.”