Spellbound (11 page)

“Am I allowed to take Meg
into Tunbridge Wells?” she asked, gazing over the white
countryside.

Glancing a little uneasily
at his companion, the duke nodded. “I don’t see why not. It’s a
perfectly safe bit of road. When would you like to go?”

“Oh, I have no definite
plans,” she said, smiling. “I was just wondering what was
acceptable to you and what wasn’t.”

They lapsed into
preoccupied silence, the duke wondering why she wanted to go into
Tunbridge Wells without him and Raven wondering how she was to
manage to distract him long enough to get there without alerting
him to that fact. She supposed she could actually take Meg as she’d
implied. The girl would not give her away and she needn’t know
exactly what Raven discovered in Speldhurst.

Her opportunity came two
days later. The day was pleasantly sunny. Raven decided she needed
some things that weren’t available in Lower Kempworth. Enlisting
Meg’s assistance, they were soon ensconced in the carriage with hot
bricks at their feet and warm lap robes over their knees for there
was still a slight chill in the air.

They arrived in Tunbridge
Wells. Raven and Meg spent an hour or so window shopping and making
little purchases. The town was beautiful, a sort of spa frequented
by the nobility. Raven was uncomfortable there, afraid someone
might recognize her as the Ebony Swan.

As quickly as possible
without alerting her companion to her unease, she returned to the
carriage, ordering the driver to continue on to Speldhurst. Meg
gave her an odd look but remained unusually silent.

The coach stopped outside a
hostelry. The two women stepped down. Raven turned to the coachman
and inquired about a certain street. He pointed west and Raven
smiled, thanking him.

Raven then turned to her
maid. “Please stay with the carriage, Meg. I will return
presently.” The maid complied with a worried little frown between
her brows.

A few minutes later, Raven
stood outside a pleasant little cottage, small by any person’s
standards, and wondered what she was about to discover. It was
nerve-wracking, to say the least, not knowing what one was walking
into.

She knocked. And
waited.

Perhaps it was just her
nervousness but it seemed to take forever before someone finally
opened the door.

She nearly fainted at the
sight of the child standing before her. He was angelic in
appearance, with brown hair and gray eyes. In fact, he had the look
of—

“Matt!”

Another small being ran
towards them, falling down at Raven’s feet. She stooped to help the
child up, beholding blond hair and dark blue eyes. The boy grinned,
kissed her cheek and ran back the way he had come.

Raven rose, ready to ask
the other boy if she could see his mother or father when yet
another child came up. She was a pretty thing who appeared to be in
her early teens with light brown hair and beautifully wide violet
eyes.

“Can I help you?” this
newest arrival asked politely.

Raven smiled in some
relief. She was forming a few conclusions and wanted some answer.
Perhaps this child could help her.

“I am…” she hesitated
slightly. “Miss Eliot. Can I speak to your mother or
guardian?”

The girl frowned. “You can
talk to my sister. She’s in here.”

Raven followed into a
pleasantly cramped little receiving room. Sitting in a chair with
some mending in her lap was an ethereal creature with white blond
hair and the palest gray eyes Raven had ever seen. Her smile was
welcoming even while it was inquiring.

She rose to her feet,
showing herself to be a few months gone in pregnancy. Raven smiled,
offering her hand in greeting.

“I am Miss Eliot. How are
you? Please sit back down,” she implored, firmly stifling the
pitiful jealousy she felt. She hadn’t realized until that very
moment that she wanted children of her own.

Sinking back to her
previous position, the woman smiled in return, saying, “It is a
pleasure to meet you, Miss Eliot. I am Mrs. Greyden
Cramshaw.”

Meg was getting worried.
Her mistress had been gone for well over an hour. She wondered what
kind of trouble she’d be in when his grace discovered where they
had gone. She could lose her position.

A sigh of relief escaped
her when she saw her grace returning to the inn. The smile on the
beautiful duchess’s face was bemused in Meg’s humble
opinion.

The lady disappeared from
the maid’s view for a moment as she entered the inn. In moments,
she joined Meg in the private parlor the innkeeper had shown her
into over an hour before.

Removing her bonnet and
placing it on a chair near the crackling fire, Raven grinned in a
totally unguarded way. “I have just met the most wonderful young
woman, Meg. I wish I could have taken you with me. She was the
loveliest creature I have ever seen. Almost unearthly.”

Meg had a strong
inclination to cross herself—and she wasn’t even Catholic. “How so,
your grace?” she asked politely.

“Silver hair and eyes,
willowy figure. Everything I’ve always wished to be,” the
black-haired siren admitted ruefully. She sank down into a chair,
an almost dreamy expression on her face. “And she has the sweetest
disposition.” Her face suddenly contorted into something closely
resembling outrage. “It makes me want to spit when I think of
how…oh, never mind.”

Turning and finally really
looking at Meg, Raven said, “I am sorry I kept away so long, my
dear girl. It won’t happen again, I promise.”

Little reassured by this
statement, which implied this trip would be made again, Meg merely
nodded in acceptance. What else could she do, after all? She was
just the maid.

As soon as Raven was in the
house, Tristan made a beeline for the stables. He found the
coachman helping the stableboy unhitch the horses.

Feigning nonchalance, he
approached the two men. “Hallo, Camp, William.” They smiled at the
greeting, having known the duke since he was a lad. “And where have
you been this fine day.” He made his way over to his own bay
stallion, acting as though the horse was his sole reason for being
in the stables.

The coachman nudged
William. “We been into Speldhurst this day, yer grace.”

Dropping the pose of
indifference, Tristan approached his employees again. “Where in
Speldhurst?”

Camp swallowed with
difficulty at the intent look on his master’s face. He informed the
duke that he wasn’t sure other than a street name. Then he offered
up Meg as a sacrifice to the large man’s curiosity.

Tracking Meg down was
easier then he’d expected. She was just coming out of Raven’s room
on her way to get tea for her mistress.

“A moment, Meg.”

The maid yelped, not having
seen the duke. Turning to inquire after his pleasure, she sighed at
the look on his face. Following in his wake, she entered a small
room just off an empty bedchamber.

“Yes, your grace?” she
asked politely.

“Where did you go this day,
Meg?”

“With the mistress, your
grace.”

He smiled faintly. “And
where did she go?”

“With me?”

“Meg. Your willingness to
protect your mistress is commendable. But, please just answer the
question.”

The maid sighed. “She went
to visit a lady on Grove Lane, your grace. And that’s all I know.
She didn’t take me with her.”

There was no help for it.
He’d have to ask Raven. He dismissed Meg with a negligent wave of
his hand. He followed her out the door shortly
afterward.

Raven was reprieved of her
husband’s inquisition until after dinner. Some estate affairs had
come up and kept him busy until that time.

With a polite excuse to the
family, he escorted his bride to her room. She didn’t try to
prevent him from entering; in fact, she acted as though she
expected him to enter.

A point she confirmed a
moment later. “Before you start asking questions, Tristan, let me
assure you there is little enough to tell and nothing for you to
worry about.”

“Whom were you meeting?” he
asked bluntly.

She turned to face him.
“What do you mean by that?”

He approached her, like a
predator stalks its prey. “Who is he? Oh, I was informed you went
to meet a lady but you and I both know that was just a cover for
what you were really doing.”

She felt like slapping him.
“You are correct, your grace. How stupid of me to assume you would
believe such a story. You are far more intelligent than that, are
you not?” Her tone mocked him.

He felt like slapping her.
“Who is he?” he asked again. He was close enough to smell her
subtle fragrance, roses and woman. He grew incensed at the idea
that she might be willingly giving to another man what he was
entitled to as her husband. He deliberately ignored the voice that
whispered she was no such thing.

“Get out,” she said
evenly.

She had donned her blandest
expression, much like the one he’d seen on her face when she’d
calmly—and nakedly—broken up his fight with Prestwich.

That recollection succeeded
in inflaming him more than he’d anticipated. Two parts anger and
one part desire, Tristan lost control. He reached out to shake some
sense into her but instead crushed her against his hard chest,
smothering her protest in a heated kiss.

And Raven, angered beyond
anything, met his passion and surpassed it. This was what she
wanted. This man, this feeling, this heat. It was useless to
protest; she’d never felt such a physical need for a man. It was
all consuming, engulfing her in a tidal wave of desire for the
fulfillment only he could give her.

And before she quite
realized it, she was pressed into the bed, allowing Tristan full
rein and even helping him. Within a matter of seconds, she was
undressed, he was down to his breeches and she was ready to tear
those off with her teeth.

Then he spoke. Pressing
kisses along her neck and over her breasts, he murmured, “You are
mine, Raven.” Pausing briefly in his sensual onslaught, he stared
down into her eyes, suddenly dead serious. “Don’t you dare give
yourself to another man ever again.”

Desire fizzled and died a
quick death, fury taking over like fire to a dry field. Raven
released a shriek loud enough to wake the dead, bringing her elbow
up in a wide arc. She caught the side of his face, knocking him
momentarily senseless. He eased up a bit, much to her satisfaction
and his painful mortification—she was able to bring her knee up
into his groin with unerring accuracy.

Doubling up, the noble Duke
of Windhaven tumbled from the bed, hitting the floor with a thump.
He groaned, cupping himself protectively and seriously
contemplating murder.

Raven was instantly
repentant. She hadn’t meant to maim the man, just gain her
immediate release. She had that now and was unsure what to do for
the man curled on her bedroom floor.

None of the men she’d ever
treated in such a way had ever remained long enough for her to see
what happened afterward. So now, sitting up on the bed with a sheet
wrapped protectively around her nakedness, she instinctively knew
that getting near him at the moment was likely to cause her own
immediate demise.

She didn’t realize how
right she was. Tristan continued to hold himself, fighting a bout
of unmanly tears and devising all sorts of foul tortures to visit
upon the lovely body of the pseudo Duchess of Windhaven.

After five minutes of
willing the pain away, Tristan was finally able to gasp out,
“Unbelievable.”

Raven, still seated on the
bed watching him warily, replied, “What, my lord?”

“The fact,” he retorted
brokenly, “that you are still here. And not,” he paused, “running
for your life.”

Surprising them both, Raven
chuckled. “I have little to lose, my lord. And I have just been
informed that you own me. I suppose my life is yours to do with as
you will.”

Struggling gingerly into a
sitting position, the duke smiled, leaning his back against the
bed. “I’m a jealous fool,” he muttered. Turning his head slightly,
he looked up at her. “A lady? Truly?”

Raven hesitated. “No. A
married woman but technically not a lady.”

Seemingly satisfied with
this response, Tristan returned his gaze to the opposite wall. “I
apologize, Rae. It was stupid of me to assume you were meeting a
man in Speldhurst. Was it Grey’s wife then?”

Raven stared in shock. “How
did you know?”

He shrugged one
well-muscled shoulder. “He thinks it’s some great secret. I only
wonder that he actually married the girl instead of following in
our ancestors’ footsteps. Trickery, you know.”

They shared a
conspiratorial glance. “And how did you find the lovely wife? Is
she well?”

“You have never met
her?”

He shook his head. “No. I
saw her once from a distance. A hauntingly lovely creature. Like an
angel come to earth. I can understand Grey’s desire to have
her.”