Spellbound (12 page)

“Yes,” murmured Raven with
a little jealous pang of her own. “She is well.
Increasing.”

He looked up at that.
“Again? This will make…what? Three?”

She nodded. It was apparent
her “husband” had made his brother’s family his business while not
actually interfering.

“You’ve been providing for
them when Grey conveniently forgets they exist, haven’t
you?”

He grunted at that. “I’m
not as stiff-rumped as I appear. I have no problem with the girl’s
birth or breeding. I wish Grey would realize we would welcome her
and act accordingly.”

“She doesn’t know who he
is,” she commented a little offhandedly. “She introduced herself as
Mrs. Greyden Cramshaw.”

A moment of silence ensued.
Tristan frowned, then asked, “How did you find out about
Lily?”

Raven hesitated. It would
be wrong to implicate Adam in anything. The way the duke already
felt about the other man was bad enough. To discover that that man
had been spying on his family…

Looking down at her hands,
she replied, “I just stumbled upon her, so to speak.”

Tristan turned just enough
to look clearly at her. “How does one just stumble upon something
or someone who lives a good ten miles away?”

She shrugged, offering a
radiant smile. “Servant’s gossip?”

He snorted, letting it
drop. He suspected he really didn’t want to know anyway.

It struck neither Raven nor
Tristan as odd that they were sitting, half-naked, discussing his
family as if nothing of any moment had just occurred between them.
If either one considered taking up where they had left off, they
kept the thought to themselves.

Tristan doubted he could,
anyway. He would probably be tender for days. The woman definitely
knew how to protect herself.

At that he smiled. He
needn’t worry too much about her then, he thought as he carefully
made his way across the hall and into his own chamber. He hadn’t
bothered re-dressing himself and ignored the curious stare of his
valet.

Peace reined between the
Duke and “Duchess” of Windhaven. Neither mentioned the night they’d
lost control and both strove to maintain a rigid decorum both in
and out of company.

This, of course, only aided
in building the tension simmering just below the surface between
them. Tristan took to more physical pursuits, hoping to exhaust
himself by nightfall. Raven started unobtrusively avoiding him
whenever possible.

It was into this odd
arrangement that Lady Windhaven returned with her grandson firmly
in tow. They were full of stories about an assassination plot
uncovered by Lord Sidmouth.

Apparently, a certain group
of men gathered, determined to murder the entire Cabinet and the
new king, seize the Tower of London and the Bank of England, and
set up a Provisional Government. One of their own people had been
spying for Lord Sidmouth and reported the whole thing.

Greyden related with
particular relish that five rebels were hanged and five more
transported. Tristan shook his head in disgust. He honestly
believed his brother was a little less than sane most of the
time.

Raven’s afternoons were
spent in certain ladylike activities such as reading and needlework
or correspondence. She’d already had two gossipy letters from Bri
letting her in on all the recent Society on dits. She decided to
return to her room and answer the most recent one she’d
received.

She was just closing her
door when it was suddenly pushed wide. She stared up into the hard
brown eyes of Lord Greyden.

“What do you want?” she
asked unnecessarily.

The young lord favored
Raven with a malevolent look. “I know you are my brother’s whore
just as you were the whore for half the aristocracy. It is only
fair that I have a sample of your wares.”

She almost laughed. If only
he knew exactly what his brother had gotten from her. She’d be only
too pleased to show the annoying Greyden precisely what that
was.

Raven allowed her dislike
to show. “I will never allow you to touch me, Lord
Greyden.”

“It will be rape then? How
entertaining,” mused the young man with a sneer. “Tell me, Swan, is
it possible to rape a whore?”

Raven saw his point. Unless
someone cared enough to complain or interfere, it would not be
rape. It happened all the time and even Raven wasn’t sure that
Tristan cared enough to interfere. Greyden was his brother after
all.

She took a step back. She
would NOT beg him to leave her be. She would, however, defend
herself, the consequences be damned. Reaching behind her, she
grasped the first object that came to hand. She was inwardly
relieved it was a heavy silver candlestick and not something
completely useless like her hairbrush.

Something in her manner
must have given her away. Greyden suddenly leapt at her. Her
struggle lasted only moments and she was quickly unarmed. He tossed
the weapon away, retaining his hold on her.

Backing her slowly towards
her bed, he snarled, “You have been a thorn in my side since the
day I met you. It is time you learned your place.”

“Considering how you loathe
me, I am surprised you can find the inclination to bed me,” she
snapped back.

“I do not deny your beauty,
Ebony Swan. No man with eyes could look upon you and not desire
you. I object to your superiority.”

With that, he gave an
almighty push and sent her sprawling across the bed. He immediately
followed her, pressing her down into the feather
ticking.

Her look of surprise at his
statement didn’t seem to register. Had she really behaved towards
him as if she were better than he was?

She struggled to free her
hands from behind her back. He was slightly preoccupied with
tearing at the bodice of her gown. She managed to free her left
hand and swung wildly at his head. She caught him on the ear and he
howled in shock and pain but, unlike Tristan, he did not ease up on
her. Instead, he grabbed her flailing arm with one hand and wrapped
the other tightly around her throat. He squeezed until blackness
welled up before her, threatening to take her under.

Desperately, she choked
out, “Wife.”

It was barely a whisper of
sound but it succeeded in loosening his stranglehold. “What did you
say?” he demanded.

“Your wife,” she whispered
around the pain in her throat. “Lily. What of Lily?”

He came off her suddenly,
springing halfway across the vast room. He stared at her as if she
was crazed. “What do you know of Lily?”

Raven sat up, gingerly
rubbing her bruised throat. “I have met her, Lord Greyden. Several
times, in fact. She is a sweet, unspoiled beauty who loves you very
much. At the moment, I admit to having no idea why that
is.”

Apparently, neither did
Greyden. He shook his head, bewildered. “Why…?”

Raven sighed and rose from
the bed. “My lord, I would rather not say this considering you
already think I believe in my own superiority but I feel it must be
said. What you are doing to that girl is unconscionable. She loves
you in spite of your obvious failings and you treat her as if she
is lower than you are. It’s not fair and you know she doesn’t
deserve it.”

Several minutes passed as
Raven stared at Greyden, her gaze unflinching. His eyes held a
wealth of amazement, recognition, and surprisingly,
hurt.

Then, to her dismay, his
features hardened once again.

“Very clever, little
harlot, but you will not escape me so easily.”

Before Raven could react
appropriately, Lord Greyden was on her. All she managed was an
abbreviated scream, high and piercing but cut ruthlessly short by
Greyden’s hand on her throat.

She struggled valiantly,
nearly panicked now. Her air was slowly diminishing and she could
do nothing to relax his grasp on her slender throat. He seemed far
stronger then his looks suggested.

And she couldn’t deal him a
blow such as she’d done to his brother. Her strength was fading.
Finally, she slipped into a semi-unconscious state, limp as a
ragdoll.

Oh, how she wished Tristan
was there!

As if conjured, the door
opened to crash into the wall, revealing the Duke of
Windhaven.

Despite her desperate
situation, Raven could not help but appreciate how melodramatic it
all was.

Tristan, taking in the
scene at a glance, was outraged. His own brother was…Dear God in
heaven!

Moving faster than he’d
ever moved before, the duke grasped his sibling by the hair and
pulled him off Raven. Then he tossed him, like so much refuse,
across the room. Greyden hit the wall so hard he was momentarily
stunned.

Turning back to Raven,
Tristan’s heart stopped beating. He detected no movement in her
slender body. Indeed, she seemed…dead.

“No,” he whispered.
Stepping closer, he stared hard at her. Then he saw it. Just the
faintest rising of her chest.

He was beside her in the
next instant, oblivious to the fact that his brother had slithered
from the room.

“Rae, darling, breath,” he
instructed, gathering her close. He saw the bruises on her tender
flesh and gritted his teeth in fury. Grey would pay dearly for his
actions!

“Tristan.”

It was nothing more than a
croak and a faint one at that, but Tristan thanked God for small
favors.

Raven slowly opened her
eyes. She moved her head, trying to ease her neck, but her throat
viciously protested even the slightest movement. She
gasped.

“Don’t move just yet, Rae.
You are fairly beaten.” He examined her throat carefully,
muttering, “I’ll kill him for this.”

“No,” she mouthed. “My
fault. Don’t. Family.”

Having realized she was
worried about his family and what it would do to them to discover a
rapist numbered among them, he nodded reluctantly. Brother or no,
his behavior was unacceptably criminal. But if it eased Raven’s
mind, he’d agree to anything.

“Did he…?”

“No.”

From the state of her
clothing, one couldn’t have guessed how far his brother had gotten.
Her skirts were rucked up to her thighs and her bodice was torn and
Grey’s clothing had been askew as well. But considering how he was
strangling the girl, he could have been finished and tying up loose
ends for all Tristan knew.

The fact that he hadn’t
actually raped her bought him a few more days of life, the duke
decided.

Raven waved a hand in the
air, indicating she wanted to rise. “No, you should lie
down.”

The look she bent on him
told him what she thought of that idea and so he reluctantly helped
her to a sitting position.

“Leave.”

He frowned, hurt. “You want
me to leave?”

She shook her head, then
winced. She pointed at herself.

He relaxed. “Oh, you want
to leave.” Then he scowled. “You want to leave?”

She rolled her eyes at him.
With an all-encompassing wave of her right arm and a particularly
violent jab at the bed she still sat upon, she left him in no doubt
that it was the room she wanted to leave, not the
estate.

He knew his relief was
evident, as was her smile of understanding.

He acquiesced to her
demand, politely offering to carry her. She laughed silently,
indicating that his arm would be enough.

She stood, realizing far
more bruising than she had at first supposed. Shakily, she smoothed
her skirts down over her aching, bruised legs. Her bodice was
irreparably damaged and she felt tears start.

It was shock, she knew. It
was always a little time after such an incident that the shock set
in. She felt her body start to tremble.

A strong arm came around
her and in the back of her mind was panic. She fought it, knowing
this was Tristan and he wouldn’t hurt her. She moved stiffly into
his embrace, willing control over her quaking body.

Ignoring her earlier
assertion that she could walk, the duke swept her up into his arms,
cradling her tight against his hard chest.

He took her to his own
bedchamber. It was apparent she wanted to keep the situation a
secret and he knew no other place they could be undisturbed while
she waited out the return of her voice.

Raven had no qualms about
being with him in his room. Her desire to leave the scene of her
near-rape had been so strong within her that she didn’t really care
where she ended up.

He sat down in a chair by
the fire, settling her comfortably in his lap. Then he stroked her
back until the trembles subsided and she rested calmly against
him.

“Better?” he asked softly
into her hair.

She smiled into his cravat
and nodded her head. It wasn’t so painful this time. Her voice
should return presently.

“Would you like to talk
about it?” he asked gently. She made no reply he could identify, so
he added, “It must have been a frightening experience. The shock is
great, or so I understand. I am surprised you have recovered as
quickly as you have.”