“Is this the book you told me about?” he asked. “The erotic journal your mother left to you?”
Her face flushed. “Y-yes.”
His gaze dropped involuntarily from her rosy cheeks to her mouth. He remembered kissing that delectable mouth, sliding his tongue deep inside to taste her, to drink of her, to steal her breath. He remembered how she had responded, her lips parting on a strangled sob as her pleasure peaked…
Kell drew a sharp breath, knowing he had to leave. “Perhaps some day you might allow me to read it. It would be intriguing to discover if I could learn a thing or two about lovemaking.”
“I suppose…if you wish,” she stammered.
He could tell he had caught her off guard and realized it was a victory of sorts. He would continue to keep his beautiful wife off her guard if he could manage it. He had spent too much time of late in that position himself. Ever since laying eyes on Raven, in fact.
Steeling his loins, Kell bent down and pressed an intentionally provocative kiss to her forehead. “Sleep well, vixen.”
She was still staring after him when he let himself from her bedchamber by way of the dressing room door.
Chapter Twelve
“Thank you, O’Malley,” Raven murmured when the groom had assisted her into the sidesaddle.
After arranging her skirts, she drew her cloak tight against the frigid morning air and took up the reins, eager to be off for her daily ride in the park. The moment O’Malley had mounted his own hack, Raven set out at a brisk trot, with the groom following close behind.
She didn’t expect to meet Brynn since her friend had another engagement this morning. But she hoped to find Dare, for she had an alarming report to discuss with him: an ugly rumor that concerned her husband.
She hadn’t spoken much to Kell during the past week, not since the night he had come to her bedchamber to discuss his brother. Except for passing him on the stairs, she hadn’t even seen him. The duty of providing her escort to various social functions had fallen to her friends.
Unaccountably Raven found Kell’s deliberate absence bothersome. Restlessness was nothing new to her, but she’d felt an unusual despondency of late. She tried to explain her feelings away, telling herself that her low spirits had nothing to do with her husband’s pointed neglect. After all, Kell was only adhering to the bargain they had struck.
There were countless other possible reasons for her melancholy, the most logical being that with the scandal, she now found herself on the fringes of the high society that she’d been such an integral part of until now.
Or perhaps her blueness could be attributed to the winter weather, which was remarkably cold, even for late November.
Or it was her apprehension over Sean Lasseter. Raven frequently found herself glancing nervously over her shoulder, seeing threats in the shadows, fearful that he would assault her again, even though Kell had assured her otherwise.
Or it could simply be due to loneliness. Admittedly she felt more alone than at any time since her arrival in England. Her grandfather had departed London for his own estate in East Sussex, while Raven remained in town for appearance’s sake. She planned to join her grandfather for Christmas, but that was still several weeks away.
At least she had O’Malley. It was comforting to have him nearby, just as it was a solace to have Brynn and Lucian and Dare-her stalwart champions and dearest friends-stand by her. But still Raven couldn’t deny her stark feeling of isolation. The nights were the worst, when she lay staring restlessly at the canopy above her bed. Not even her pirate lover could console her, for oddly, she had trouble summoning him. When she closed her eyes to imagine him, all she saw was Kell.
With her uncertain future stretching out before her, empty, pointless, without any goal to strive toward, she felt keenly alone and at a loss, regardless of how fiercely she scolded herself for falling victim to self-pity.
She should be counting her blessings, Raven knew. While her dreams of making a titled match were crushed, while the scandal had resulted in a great many closed doors, she had survived. And compared to many of her peers, she was actually well off. She had contracted a marriage in name only, with no dire risk of overwhelming love or obsessive passion to threaten her. And as the wife of a wealthy, indifferent husband, she ha
d complete freedom to do as she pleased.
But still she found herself missing Kell. He had startled her the night he came to her room, especially when he bent to give her an unexpected kiss.
“Sleep well, vixen,” he’d said.
But she hadn’t slept. She had tossed and turned for hours, remembering the way his eyes had darkened when they scrutinized her concealing nightdress; remembering his sudden interest when he had spied the journal and her acute embarrassment at being caught reading it.
She had put away the journal after his visit, for the erotic passages only aroused her and reminded her of the physical relations that were missing in her marriage. But once or twice when she had heard Kell come in late at night, she lay there in bed, aware that she had a husband in the very next room, her body throbbing shamelessly for him… She pictured his magnificent nudity when she’d surprised him at his bath… Wondered how she would react if he returned to her bedchamber to claim his marital rights.
But he never came to her room again.
No doubt Kell was occupied with his club, but Raven couldn’t even be certain of that. She had shared some of her most private secrets with him-about the journal, about her fantasy lover-and still she knew so little about him.
Moreover, yesterday she was forcibly reminded of her obligations to Kell when she learned of a worrisome development.
According to Brynn, someone had begun spreading unsavory rumors about the honesty of Kell’s gaming club. Raven could only suspect the gossip was the work of the Duke of Halford, since he had threatened to ruin the blackguard who’d stolen his bride.