Spellbound (8 page)

At that moment, Raven
couldn’t have said anything if her life depended on it. The
sensation of his lips and breath moving against her ear was sending
pleasurable little swirls of longing deep into her very being. It
was all she could do to refrain form turning her head slightly and
meeting those firm lips with her own.

The duke pulled away
slightly and gave her an odd look. She could only assume he had
asked her a question and, ninnyhammer that she was, she had no idea
what. What did this man have that so made her forget her practiced
ease and composure?

“I am sorry. What did you
say?”

“I asked if you would be
averse to telling the duchess that you are expecting as an excuse
for your faint.”

Raven wondered how many
more shocks she would undergo before this nightmare was over. She
hated to admit it, but Adam was right. Coming here had been
insane.

“Of course I am,” she told
him hotly. He clapped a hand over her mouth before she could go on
to tell him what she really thought of his ridiculous
excuse.

“Gently,” he admonished. He
continued to hold her silent as he repeated his earlier words. “If
we tell her we anticipated our vows and you are now enceinte, she
will stop worrying about your odd fainting spell. We can marry and
when it comes out that you are not, we can merely shrug it off as a
mistake.”

He finally released her and
she sputtered, “The whole idea is preposterous. One day, my
identity will be revealed and it will come out that we are not
truly married. Then what will you do, Lord Windhaven? Will you be
the first in line to say you were duped right along with your
family and offer me up for the hangman’s noose? Please tell me now
so I know the proper action to take to save my own miserable
neck.”

Tristan was truly
astonished at her vehemence. He felt his own temper rise at her
words. He stood up, staring down at her. “Do you think that little
of me, of my honor? Do you honestly believe I would let anything
bad happen to you? What have I done to make you think such a thing
of me?”

“You have lied to your
family, your grace. You have brought me here under false pretenses
for the selfish reason of avoiding parson’s mousetrap. You have
ignored honor more than once during this fruitless endeavor. How
can I think you wouldn’t prove as selfish at the end of all this
and offer me up as the sacrificial lamb to your precious
honor?”

She was right. Good God,
how had he gotten so mixed up? He was thirty-four years old. He
knew better.

But how could they turn
back now? And the bottom line was, he wanted this woman more than
he had ever wanted anything in his life. Ever since the first time
he’d seen her, he had dreamed of having her. He couldn’t let her go
now, no matter how selfish his motives seemed.

“What would you have me do,
Rae? Should I march up to my grandmother right now and confess?
What do you think she will do? Do you honestly think she would let
you go peacefully? No, she won’t. And I don’t know that I could
save you from her wrath.” He crouched down beside her, pleading
with her to heed him. “Give me this and I will come up with a way
to release you, I promise. Just let me tell her now what I think is
best and I will make everything right in the end.
Please.”

It was just plain stupid of
her and she knew it. But she found it impossible to resist the
entreaty in his beautiful green eyes. With a heartfelt sigh of
resignation, she lay back down on the bed. “Very well, my lord
duke. Do as you see fit. I place my life in your oh so capable
hands from this day forward.”

The wedding the next day
was over before Raven had a chance to realize it. Had she really
been complaining to Bri a mere two weeks ago that she was bored?
She could use some boredom now. Things had gotten completely out of
control and if there was anything she hated, it was not being in
control.

And now, far from being in
control, she had the urge to scream out her frustration until
everyone sat up and took notice. Instead, she pressed her long
fingernails into the arm of her “husband,” taking great pleasure in
the tensing of his muscles when she pressed particularly
hard.

Apparently having had
enough, Tristan grabbed her hand with his free one and squeezed
hard enough to release her grip on his arm. The smile never left
his face as he nodded to impromptu guests and whisked her out of
the room.

Pulling her a short ways
down the hall, Tristan shoved open a door, closing it firmly behind
them. Then he paced away from her, clenching and unclenching his
fists.

Raven was surprised at how
perturbed he appeared. She watched him in total fascination while
he got his emotions under control.

That was when she noticed
his waistcoat.

“Is that blood?”

He looked at her.
“What?”

“Your waistcoat has golden
hearts—actual gold thread, I’ve little doubt—pierced with black
arrows, the points of which are dripping blood. I was inquiring as
to the authenticity of the blood.”

He ignored her query and
returned to the discussion at hand.

“I realize you are entitled
to a lot due to what I am putting you through,” he finally told her
sternly, “but would it be too much to ask that you wait until our
guests leave before inflicting physical injury on my
person?”

Raven almost smiled.
Almost. He was far angrier than her meager actions warranted. What
on earth had him in such a pother?

In the space of two
seconds, Raven decided to play with the man. In less time than
that, she became someone else entirely.

With a sultry laugh, the
actress turned peeress glided over to her partner in crime and
smiled seductively up at him. Placing one hand on his broad chest,
she had to take a take a deep breath to restore her equilibrium.
Goodness, the man was solid!

“Tristan, darling, what has
you in such a mood? Are you regretting your married state already?”
Her voice was something she could manipulate to a nicety. She knew
exactly what the deeper timbre of her voice could do to a
man.

Tristan, however, refused
to be manipulated. He wrenched her hand away from his person,
growling an oath she had only heard used at the theater once when a
stagehand dropped a heavy piece of the set on his foot. With a
practiced twist, the duke brought both her hands together behind
her back, yanking her close enough to feel his heartbeat against
her chest.

“Do not poke fun at the
devil, Raven. You know not what you incite with your
actions.”

Unafraid and actually
surprised at the idea, Raven chuckled low in her throat. “I know
exactly what I am doing, my lord duke. Or have you forgotten what I
am?”

“I have forgotten nothing,”
he groaned and crushed her lips beneath his.

With little more than a
token protest, Raven gave herself up to the feelings invoked by her
“husband’s” kiss. It was only when she felt cool air and a warm
hand brush her bared breasts that she came back to the present and
realized exactly what she’d allowed…no, caused, to
happen.

“No.”

It came out as little more
than a squeak. With a forceful shove, she managed to make it come
out a bit louder, loud enough to penetrate the sensual fog
permeating the duke’s brain. He backed away, breathing heavily,
cursing under his breath. Then he stomped over to the window and
threw it wide.

“I warned you, woman,” he
managed to mutter after several moments spent pacing before the
open window. “I told you not to poke at the devil and what do you
do? You mask yourself in your best harlot routine and proceed to do
just that. Do you realize how tempting it was to ignore your
request to stop and simply take you right here on the floor? Damn
you, woman!”

Although hurt by his less
than subtle way of telling her he found her conduct wanting, she
felt the urge to laugh. If she didn’t know better, she’d think his
problem all along had been simple sexual frustration.

The thought occurred to her
that she could rid him of that very easily…and enjoy doing it. But
her days of loose living were over and while no one would think
anything of them indulging—the world did think they were married,
after all—she knew the truth and it would haunt her for the rest of
her life.

Much in the way Levi
haunted her. Only this time, she knew instinctively, would be much
worse.

“And that doesn’t help, you
know.”

Raven came to with a
start…then flushed crimson when she realized she had neglected to
right her appearance. With a strangled oath of her own, she turned
her back on Tristan and struggled to pull her bodice back into
place.

Freya walked into the room,
gave them a disgusted look as if she knew what had just happened,
and snapped, “Grandmother sent me to tell you to return to the
party. She doesn’t seem to want the guests thinking you are off
somewhere f—”

Her words were suddenly cut
short as her oldest brother tackled her and roughly shoved her back
through the open door. He shoved her down the hall and turned back
to his bride. “Return when you can comport yourself with at least a
semblance of dignity, Raven.”

Raven was tempted to throw
something at him but the door closed too quickly to give in to her
desire.

As she moved toward the
door, she realized he’d called her Raven. And she had little doubt
his young sister had heard every word he’d said to her.

She was not looking forward
to the results of his faux pas.

Taking a stroll in the
early morning air had become a favorite pastime of Raven’s. She
found it successfully cleared the cobwebs from her brain after a
night spent wishing for things she could never have. And by making
the lake her destination each day, she could avoid her
“husband.”

Her time was usually spent
in determinedly ignoring the urgings of her heart and body, while
contemplating where she should go from there.

Her meditations were
interrupted by a commotion in the front driveway. Catching up her
skirts, she hurried to see.

Shock and disbelief held
her immobile when she reached the front step. Tristan was standing
there, watching the proceedings with some interest. It was apparent
he didn’t know who the arrivals were.

But Raven did. She barely
had time to even acknowledge the thought before Lady Brianna
Prestwich, Countess of Rothsmere, swept her into a hug. Oh, why
were they here?

Adam was a little more
circumspect in his greetings, satisfying himself with a mere kiss
on the hand and an inquiry as to her health. But Raven, knowing the
dark-haired man as well as she did, knew he was furious.

Tristan seemed most amused
by it all. Raven wondered how he’d feel when he learned just who
his guests were.

Bowing to the inevitable,
Raven made the introductions. “My lord duke, may I make known Sir
Adam Prestwich and his wife, the Countess of Rothsmere? Adam, Bri,
the Duke of Windhaven…my husband,” she added
reluctantly.

Throughout, Raven watched
Tristan’s face and saw the exact moment he realized he was speaking
to one of her former protectors. His green eyes turned suddenly
chill and she knew he was about to disgrace them all by ordering
the footmen to pack the carriage again, sending their guests on
their way. Raven forestalled that by taking his arm and gaily
inviting the couple inside.

“This is no time for petty
jealousies, my lord,” she murmured through her smiles as they led
the way inside.

“Petty jealousies?” he
gritted out. “Petty? Your audacity in inviting him here, madam, is
what has me seething and nothing more. Why should I be jealous of
him?”

Raven might have laughed at
the very obvious jealousy her “husband” was displaying at that very
moment if she didn’t agree so wholeheartedly with his assessment.
He possessed at least two inches and several pounds more muscle
over Adam and was handsome enough to make any girl swoon. Adam had
the kind of looks that appealed to the more daring girls, but
Tristan was a god among men, a Greek Adonis. Raven shivered at the
thought of actually possessing such a man.

“For your information, dear
husband, I did not invite him. And even if I had, you needn’t worry
over our conduct.”

Tristan snorted derisively.
“You would endeavor to be circumspect, you mean? How very
considerate of you, my dear.”

The heavy sarcasm in his
voice was not lost on Raven. She did ignore it, however, along with
the sudden urge she had to do him a physical injury. “You have no
reason to believe otherwise, my lord. You know what I am better
than anyone.” With that said, she turned and joined their guests in
the drawing room.

It was several hours later
that Adam finally managed to get Raven alone. He was ready to tear
somebody apart and he determined it would be best if it was the
person whose actions had put him in such a foul humor in the first
place.

He finally found her in the
last place he thought to look—hiding in her bedchamber.