Spellbound (7 page)

Damn. Would she never
learn?

And to make matters worse,
the duke’s brother, Lord Greyden, was there to make life difficult
for her.

As if conjured, Lord
Greyden appeared from the back of the manor and approached. Raven
groaned inwardly and pasted a welcoming smile on her
face.

He wasn’t sure what made
him look out the window, but he did. And he stopped breathing. His
blood ran cold through his veins. His hands trembled and he had to
swallow around a large lump in his throat. The feeling of helpless
panic didn’t ease until he saw his brother walking out to meet
Raven by the lake.

Tristan drew in a shaky
breath and slowly let it out. He forced his mind away from the
panic, away from the fear. With a shake of his head, he managed to
firmly place the haunting images in the back of his mind. He fisted
his hands tightly and slowly released his grip, relaxing them as
much as possible.

Then he looked away.
Perhaps he would have been better able to fight the panic had he
simply looked away in the first place. It had been nearly
impossible, however, to tear his eyes away from the beautiful woman
standing on the edge of the frozen water. The thought of her
stepping out on the ice was enough to make him scream. The
possibility of her falling through the ice was uppermost in his
thoughts.

He dared to look again and
was relieved to see Grey leading her firmly away from the water’s
edge. His relief turned swiftly to annoyance then anger as he saw
Grey take Raven’s arm in a steely grip. She visibly pulled away
only to stop when he bent closer and whispered in her ear. If the
sudden pallor of her skin was anything to go by, Tristan would say
she’d just been threatened. And by a member of his own
household!

Slamming a fist onto the
desk, Tristan stood and strode from the room.

“What you ask simply isn’t
possible,” Raven insisted, pulling again at Lord Greyden’s solid
grip. “Let go.”

Grey gave her a little
shake. “All I want is a little of what my brother’s getting, my
dear. What is so difficult about that?” he purred.

Raven forced her body to
relax, smiling sweetly. “Oh, is that all? Why didn’t you say so in
the first place?”

Grey eyed her suspiciously.
“So you will come to my room tonight?”

“Whyever would I do that?”
Raven asked, feigning incomprehension.

Grey’s confusion was
apparent in the way he blinked twice at her before forming a
careful reply. He opened his mouth to speak, then thought better of
it and snapped his jaw shut. “Excuse me?” he finally
ventured.

Raven nearly laughed.
Instead, she pasted an innocent expression on her face and
explained. “You said you expected to receive the same thing from me
as your brother. I agreed. After all,” she shrugged, “it really is
not all that difficult to speak with a gentlemen.”

“You cannot be serious,”
sputtered Grey after a moment of stunned silence. “You don’t really
expect me to believe you haven’t been warming my brother’s bed?
That he keeps his mistress under grandmama’s nose merely for her
conversational abilities?”

“She is not my mistress,
Grey.”

Both turned in surprise at
the softly uttered words. Raven smiled politely, masking her
unease. Grey glanced from one to the other in patent
disbelief.

“You bring an actress here
and expect me to believe she’s just a friend?” he
sneered.

Tristan turned pale green
eyes on his younger sibling. “I really don’t care what you believe,
Grey. Just remember who is duke and who is not. I will do what I
damn well please in my own home. And whether or not my guest is
indeed an actress need not concern you.”

Greyden just stared at them
for long tense moment before finally turning on his heel and moving
furiously back to the house.

Raven turned to her
“fiancé.” “That was unnecessary, Tristan. I had the situation under
control.”

His look was disbelieving.
“Did you? It appeared to me that my brother was about to threaten
your virtue.”

Raven pretended not to hear
the slight emphasis placed on his final word. She gazed at him
steadily, almost daring him to say more.

She involuntarily shivered.
Tristan’s entire manner changed. “Good God, woman! Why didn’t you
say you were near frozen? Come back into the house.”

Raven allowed herself to be
led back indoors. She was divested of her outer clothing and herded
into a saloon with a brightly burning fire.

Tristan pushed her towards
a chair and rang the bell for tea. When it arrived, he laced hers
liberally with brandy and forced her to down every drop.

“Now, tell me what the
blazes you were doing out there, anyway?”

Raven stared at him, almost
bewildered at the past half-hour of flurried events. She shook her
head, set aside her teacup and struggled for a measure of her
habitual calm.

“I was merely enjoying the
mild weather when your bother happened upon me. I did not purposely
met him if that is what you were implying.”

It actually wasn’t. The
thought had never even entered his mind. He was still shook up from
seeing her so close to the water’s edge.

“I was implying nothing of
the kind. You have an overactive imagination, madam.”

She smiled. “I admit I do.
It is an asset at times.”

There was an added guest
besides Lord Greyden for dinner that evening. Reverend Mooney had
been invited just that afternoon to join them. He was always a
popular guest. He was witty, pleasant, and not too fawning. Tristan
always found himself at ease when in the other man’s
presence.

The duchess, however, was
looking mightily pleased with herself. Tristan was convinced
something was up and he was equally sure he wasn’t going to like
it. He wondered how long he’d have to wait before his grandmother
decided to share her plans with them all.

It was just after the last
course was cleared away and the port was brought out that the
duchess decided to make her announcement. Everyone watched,
startled, as the old woman ordered all the servants to
leave.

“I have invited the good
reverend here for a specific purpose, my dears.”

Tristan felt every muscle
in his body stiffen. He glanced at Raven and noticed her own
expression was far from easy.

“He has agreed to perform a
wedding, at short notice, between my grandson, Windhaven and Lady
Rachael.”

“Absolutely not!” roared
the duke before he could think better of it. The haughty look of
disapproval he received from the duchess went ignored. “I will not
be forced into marriage.”

A look of confusion crossed
the features of the other dinner guests. Why would the duke
consider himself forced when he was to wed the girl
anyway?

That exact thought entered
Tristan’s mind a second too late. He realized then how very
insulting his words had truly been to his “fiancée.” He turned to
see her reaction to all this and was astonished at her look of
utter composure. How could she remain so calm under these
circumstances? Was she human?

“Perhaps his grace and I
should speak privately, your grace,” Raven said then into the
stunned silence.

In moments, Tristan found
himself whisked from his grandmother’s presence and into a small
antechamber. Raven only released him after pushing him down into a
chair. He stared at her while she poured him a glass of brandy and
pressed it into his hand.

“Why are you so calm?” he
finally demanded after downing the fiery liquid in one
gulp.

“Her announcement was not
wholly unexpected, Tristan. It came earlier than anticipated, to be
sure, but it was still something she was expected to do. Why do you
lie to yourself?”

Her question nearly made
him choke on his third glass of brandy. “What the devil do you mean
by that? I haven’t been lying to myself.”

“But you have,” she pointed
out reasonably. “You have convinced yourself that you can get out
of this fictional engagement with no interference from your
grandmother. You believe she would never dare to dictate your life
when every action on her part has done just that. Why do you refuse
to acknowledge this?”

The Duke of Windhaven
dropped his eyes to his glass suddenly. He was afraid he might cry
at this very real assessment of his life. What kind of man was he
to allow an old woman to arrange every nuance of his existence? Was
he a man at all?

Tristan slumped back down
into his chair, dropping his head into his hands. How was he to
avoid this newest direction his grandmother had taken with his
life?

“It’s no use, you know,”
murmured his companion kindly. Even in this moment of turmoil, her
throaty voice could still affect him in a purely physical
way.

“What is no use?” he forced
himself to respond, lifting his face to gaze at her.

She gave a Gallic shrug.
“This charade. We may as well confess and have the whole thing over
with. I will return to London, hopefully of my own volition and not
in chains, and we will forget we ever met.”

The duke was surprised at
the painful feeling her words gave him. Forget they had ever met?
Not bloody likely!

His face brightened
considerably as a new thought suddenly occurred to him. They could
simply go through with the ceremony. She would sign her name to the
marriage license and so would he. It would not be valid, however.
The license would say Lady Rachael Eliot…

Decisively, he stood.
“Come, we must inform the family of our decision.”

Raven, a little taken aback
at his sudden control, merely nodded and placed her hand on his
arm. She knew her features showed complacency but inside, she was
quaking with fear. These people had the power to have her taken up
on charges. She didn’t for a second believe some of them wouldn’t
jump at the chance to do so.

They re-entered the dining
room to find everyone had remained exactly where they had left
them. The duke signaled for everyone’s attention and Raven braced
herself for the expected ridicule and remonstrations.

“Grandmother, family.
Rachael and I have discussed it and agree to marry on the
morrow.”

At his words, Raven did the
unthinkable. She fainted.

“Something tells me your
intended bride was of a different mind altogether.”

Tristan glared at his
brother. “She was simply overcome by the heat, you
nodcock.”

Greyden snorted derisively
at that. “In the middle January, brother? At least do me the
courtesy of inventing something more plausible than the heat. I
assure you, grandmother will not believe such a sorry excuse for a
second. She may even determine the real reason behind your little
bird’s distress.”

“And what is
that?”

Tristan wasn’t surprised
when his brother suddenly remembered something of import requiring
his attention elsewhere. Tristan was tempted to do the same but he
knew the futility of running. The duchess would simply follow him
and wait until he was done.

He turned to face the dame.
“Madam?” he inquired politely.

“Do you think to ignore my
question, Windhaven?”

He sensed amusement in her
question but was at a loss to determine the source of her
hilarity.

“Of course not,
grandmother. I merely wonder at your asking it.”

She chuckled. “I was
eavesdropping, my boy. Greyden mentioned my finding out the truth.
I was simply wondering if you might be willing to tell me and thus
save me distressing amounts of work and worry.”

The duke smiled slightly.
“I will refrain, madam, since I know how you like a good
mystery.”

A low groan from the bed
alerted the room’s occupants to the possibility of yet another
eavesdropper. Tristan hurried over, sitting gently on the edge of
the bed.

“Ra-Rachael.” He prayed his
grandmother didn’t notice the way he stumbled over the name. “How
do you feel?”

She groaned again. “Like
I’ve been run over by a carriage. And you?”

He laughed lightly,
favoring her with a smile. “I’ve been better,” he admitted.
“Grandmother has come to see how you go on.”

It was then, he realized,
that she remembered exactly where she was and what had
happened.

“Oh, dear God,” she
whispered. “What have you done?”

“Are you asking me or God?”
he asked facetiously.

She pinched his arm. “Do
you realize what you’ve done?”

“I will go. Apparently, you
still have some things to discuss,” the duchess told them, her
haughtiness back in place. She swept from the room, closing the
door firmly behind her.

Raven sat up and opened her
mouth to speak but was firmly shushed by her soon-to-be husband.
“She’s listening,” he mouthed silently. He leaned closer, putting
his lips against her ear. “She hopes to discover something,” he
whispered. “Don’t say anything that might lead her to suspect the
truth.”