Spellbound (3 page)

Raven awoke the next
morning with the duke’s offer on her mind. She splashed cold water
on her face in the hope it would help her see reason as she thought
about it some more. She dressed hurriedly in a warm dress of dark
wool with long sleeves and a high neck. Then she twisted her long
black hair into a knot on her head. All the while, she pondered his
offer.

Was she actually
considering it? She couldn’t possibly! He couldn’t possibly! It was
true that some members of the aristocracy had actually led their
mistresses from the theater to the altar but never a duke and never
without having any knowledge of the actress, whether carnal or
intellectual.

She flushed suddenly, her
poise all but deserting her. She was considering it. The thought of
never having to worry over Linnet’s future was strong and only for
her sister would she dare even think of marrying the Duke of
Windhaven.

Splashing water on her face
one more time, Raven left her room, completely forgetting that she
actually had a maid now. She met her on the stairs. In Meg’s hands
was a tray bearing chocolate and toast.

“Oh, milady!” exclaimed Meg
in distress. “I’m that late, am I?”

“No, Meg,” replied Raven
reassuringly. “I am a distressingly early riser.” She smiled
pleasantly. “I have no need of you this morning so if you would
like to do something of your own choosing, please feel
free.”

Meg bobbed a curtsy. “Thank
you kindly, milady.” Her smile broke forth suddenly. “I think I
will go outside. They do say belowstairs that the lake is finally
froze over.”

Raven waved her on her way
and continued down the hall. As she passed what she discovered was
a small bookroom of sorts, the door opened and Windhaven stepped
out. She gave a start, her hand flying to her breast.

His pale brows quirked a
bit. “Overdoing it a bit, aren’t you?” he asked dryly.

Raven frowned. “Overdoing
what, exactly, your grace? You frightened me, if truth be
known.”

“What do you know of
truth?” he asked sharply.

She lowered her voice
dramatically. “I could ask you the same thing, Lord
Windhaven.”

“Could you? Are you
impugning my honor by calling me a liar?”

Raven heard the note of
actual anger in his deep voice. “Is that not what you are doing by
having me here, my lord? I do not impugn your honor. I made a
simple observation.”

Windhaven stared down at
her. “Why do you behave around me as though you are not afraid of
me?” he asked suddenly.

“Because I’m not,” she said
candidly, too surprised to utter less than the truth. “You are
gruff because you find it a pleasure to intimidate people but you
are not truly dangerous.”

His green eyes darkened
considerably and Raven wondered momentarily if perhaps she’d made a
miscalculation in her assessment. At that particular moment, he
appeared very dangerous indeed.

He smiled suddenly,
blindingly. Raven was stunned by that smile. He really ought to do
it more often, she thought in wonder. He had a dimple in his left
cheek. It was amazing how a smile could so transform a person. He
went from being a surly, gruff man to being the hero of every young
girl’s dreams.

“Lady Rachael?”

Raven snapped back to
reality. The duke was looking at her in concern and she realized it
had been he who had called her Rachael. She wondered if she would
ever get used to that name.

If you accept his offer,
you will have to, taunted a little voice in her head. You’d be
living a lie for the rest of your life.

Raven shook it off and
smiled. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t attending.”

“That was obvious,” he said
dryly. “I asked if you’d step into my office with me. I want to
talk to you away from prying ears.”

As she preceded him into
the rather cluttered room, she remarked, “We do tend to speak
unwisely, do we not?”

He grunted in reply,
returning to his seat behind a beautifully carved mahogany desk.
Raven studied the meticulous carvings intently, impressed with the
quality and detail presented. The whole desk was a veritable work
of art.

“Do you like it?” the duke
asked suddenly.

“Yes, very much,” she
replied at once. “It is quite the most beautiful thing I have ever
seen.”

“Yes, I agree,” Windhaven
said softly. But he was not looking at the desk. He was looking at
Raven and she felt her cheeks grow warm under his silent regard.
Adam and Levi had never made her feel this way. Windhaven made her
feel…loved? That was not possible.

“Well,” she said briskly,
trying to distract herself from dangerous thoughts, “what was it
you wanted to speak about?”

The duke cleared his
throat. “I wanted to discuss what happened last night.”

She gave him an inquiring
look. This is when he would tell her that he was drunk or jesting,
or had made a colossal mistake in asking to marry her.

“Have you given my offer
any thought?”

She blinked. “I admit I
did,” she answered slowly, “but not very seriously since I felt you
may regret the impulse later.”

He smiled, just a slight
twisting of his finely molded lips. “‘…Rich gifts wax poor when
givers prove unkind.’ And all that rot,” he told her.

She nodded, amused.
“Something like that, your grace.”

“I was in earnest then as I
am now. If you still think you should not, do not answer me until
you know me better.” He smiled again but it lacked the whimsy of
his earlier grin.

Raven returned his smile.
“Very well, my lord. If you insist.”

They fell silent, both
wondering what to say or do next. Raven found herself pulling
slightly at her long sleeve and stopped. She had never been prone
to nervousness before and she didn’t mean to start now.

Windhaven cleared his
throat, looking far more uncomfortable than she felt. “So,” he
said, thinking quickly, “are you enjoying your visit so
far?”

“Yes, my lord, very much,”
she replied instantly, relieved to have something neutral to talk
about. “Although I have not been here very long, I find everything
very…intriguing.”

The duke thought it was an
interesting word to use but forbore commenting on it. “Do you think
we can progress beyond the formalities?” he asked instead. She
looked surprised at his request and he wondered why. They were
supposed to be engaged, after all.

“If you wish,” she conceded
easily enough.

Windhaven watched the
actress as she fiddled with her sleeve again, an action that
interested him. Apparently, she was nervous in his presence, a
circumstance that surprised him. When he had approached her about
taking on this masquerade, she had been calm, composed, and
completely in control of her actions and expressions. Now, she
seemed as skittish as a new colt. Several times he had caught a
look of surprise mingled with unease cross her beautiful
features.

“What is your name?” she
asked then.

The duke watched a faint
blush tinge her high cheekbones and found himself inordinately
fascinated by her. He had to admit that it was this more than his
annoying family that had prompted his invitation to Windhaven. Who
wouldn’t be completely enthralled by her beauty and her air of
confidence?

Feeling foolish for his
moonstruck thoughts, he stood and turned away from her. “My given
name is Tristan,” he told her gruffly. “Freya calls me Tris.
Grandmother calls me Windhaven.” He heard a tinge of sarcasm in his
voice and nearly winced. The last thing he needed was to reveal his
feelings to a stranger.

“Tristan,” Raven said with
a nod of satisfaction. “It suits you, I think. Far better than
Windhaven.”

But Tristan wasn’t
listening. The sound of his name on her perfect lips made him want
to kiss her. And he didn’t want to stop there.

Why not make her your
mistress? nagged a voice in his head. She had had protectors
before. Sir Adam Prestwich had not exactly kept his association
with her secret and the Earl of Greville had practically announced
it in the London Gazette when he had managed to win her
favors.

Tristan shook the thought
away. When he had asked her to employ her famed acting skills to
help him out, he had promised himself that he would not make
physical advances to her.

“While you are here,
Rachael,” he placed the faintest stress on Rachael, “you should
visit my library. I think there is a section there that would
interest you greatly.”

Her interest piqued, Raven
suggested they go there now. The duke smiled. “Very well. Let me
finish this and I will escort you.”

As he bent his head over
the papers scattered over his desk, Raven studied him. His dark
blond hair curled all over his head with apparent abandon. His
cravat was tied in a perfect example of the oriental and she caught
a glimpse of his brightly colored waistcoat through the folds of
his severe black jacket.

“Dear God, what is that?”
Raven blurted before she could stop herself. She winced at her
blunder.

Tristan looked up at Raven,
followed her line of sight to his waistcoat and scowled. “It is a
waistcoat, my lady,” he responded stiffly. His family gave him
enough trouble over his choice of odd waistcoats. He didn’t need
his “employee” doing the same.

“I realize that, Tristan,
and I apologize for my exclamation. But what is it?”

Tristan studied her face
for signs of mockery. He detected none and so he said, “It is a
species of lizard common to America.”

“What is it called?” she
asked with genuine interest.

“A blue-spotted
salamander.”

“We have salamanders here
in England but not like that,” she remarked, a smile of wonder
resting on her full lips. “It’s beautiful, I think.”

“Thank you,” Tristan said
slowly, suspicious that she was toadying to him.

Raven gave him an
exasperated look tinged with amusement. “I am not pandering to your
title, oh noble duke. I truly think your sense of style is unique
and therefore, pleasing.”

“Unique equals pleasing?”
he inquired mildly.

“Why not?” she replied with
a shrug. “I have often found those with the self-confidence to set
their own standards in dress and grooming are very pleasant to be
around. Take Lord Petersham for example. He fell in love with Mrs.
Brown and wore nothing but brown as a tribute to her. Even his
horses and carriage were brown. And he was and still is an amusing
man.”

“And his addiction to snuff
is legendary,” remarked Tristan cynically. He himself had no liking
for the stuff.

Raven shrugged. “Perhaps.
But he went about it just as uniquely as every other aspect in his
life. Imagine having a different kind of snuff for every day of the
year and a different snuffbox for each as well.”

“I’d rather not,” responded
Tristan dryly. “I don’t care for snuff.”

Raven fell silent, allowing
the duke to finish signing the papers that required his immediate
attention. After a few minutes, he set his pen aside and looked up.
“Shall we adjourn to the library?”

Raven followed the duke to
the bottom floor of the Manor. He took her to the very back of the
house and stopped before a set of carved oak doors.

Looking down at her, he
smiled. “Ready?”

She nodded, curious at his
air of suppressed excitement. He dramatically threw open the doors
and Raven wondered if he’d ever considered going on stage. The man
would make Kean look like an amateur.

Tristan stepped back,
allowing her to enter first. Raven stood on the threshold, amazed
at the sight that greeted her.

The library was as big as a
ballroom but narrow like a gallery. It took up two stories, with
shelves running from floor to ceiling. A balcony with wrought iron
banisters was placed at the level of the first floor and ran along
both sides of the large chamber. The far end was floor to ceiling
windows, hung with heavy burgundy drapes that kept out the harmful
rays of the sun during the peak of the day. They were open at the
moment, allowing the early morning rays to shine through the
stained glass, scattering prisms of rainbow across the
room.

Down the center of the room
were several tables for study, surrounded by chairs. Some of them
had books lying on them, open, as if someone had just left. At the
far end, beneath the window, was another table piled high with
books and ledgers. A man sat at this table, looking through a book
and jotting notes in an open ledger.

As if sensing their
presence, the man looked up. “Your g-grace,” he said, clearly
startled. He stood quickly and crossed the magnificent chamber to
meet them. “I d-did not know you’d be in t-today.”

“I was not going to be
except Rachael desired to see my collection.”

Raven offered a friendly
smile. “It is a beautiful room,” she remarked.

“Indeed, it i-is,” agreed
the young man.