Nicole Jordan - Ecstasy

At her morose tone, Dare gave her an assessing look. “And it disturbs you that your husband’s amorous interests lie elsewhere?”

Raven averted her gaze from Dare’s knowing one. “I shouldn’t allow myself to be disturbed, I know. Ours was merely a marriage of convenience. He has every right to keep a mistress, or an entire harem, if he wishes.”

“You could change the situation, puss. I have no doubt you could have Lasseter fawning at your feet if you chose to.”

The image was an appealing one, Raven admitted to herself. She cast Kell another glance. He was watching her intently now, with those dark eyes that could hold her spellbound. Yet there was a decided coolness to his features, even disapproval, Raven noted. Perhaps he didn’t like her associating with the Marquess of Wolverton any more than she liked her husband dallying openly with his mistress.

Forcing her gaze away, she gave Dare a deliberate smile. “I suppose I should apply to you for advice. No doubt the Prince of Pleasure could instruct me on how to keep a philandering husband from straying.”

He laughed. “You don’t need instruction on how to secure a man’s attention. You had half the males in London swooning over you last Season.”

“I’m not sure how I managed that.”

“I can tell you how. Because you were so refreshing. With your frankness and your high spirits, you were unlike every other debutante in existence. A tart lemon ice to their blancmange.”

Raven made a face. “How gratifying to be compared to a vanilla pudding, Dare. And to think I tried so hard to conform.”

“You succeeded admirably, but you still stood out in the crowd.” Dare hesitated. “If you’re serious about keeping your husband from straying, a little effort at seduction would not go amiss.” He glanced toward the hazard table. “Perhaps I should see how Halford is getting along.”

He left her then to stew over his advice.

Raven frowned thoughtfully as she eyed her husband. Did she wish to keep Kell from straying? Did she want to risk a mortifying rebuff?

It would be undeniably brazen to try to seduce him. While her upbringing had been unconventional, she possessed enough ladylike sensibilities to hesitate at such flagrant boldness. And yet she was immeasurably weary of conforming to society’s rigid rules.

Furthermore, she was not the unsoiled virgin with a spotless reputation to protect that she’d been a few short weeks ago. In that sense, the scandal had been liberating. She had much more freedom now from the stifling strictures of the ton, the trivialities of London drawing rooms, the vapidness, the pretense. If she wanted to seduce her notorious husband, she could do so without feeling shame or guilt.

And she had to confess she was tempted. So tempted.

She was also dismayingly, idiotically jealous, Raven realized when she saw Kell laugh at something Emma said.

The intimacy of the gesture sent rebellion flaring inside Raven. Involuntarily her hands curled into fists, and she moved forward, unable to stop herself. She found herself standing before Kell, demanding an interview of a man for the second time that evening. But this time there was fire in her heart.

“Might I have a word with you, dear husband?” she said through gritted teeth.

Kell raised an eyebrow, while Emma’s smile of greeting faded.

The hostess looked from Raven to Kell, who gave a brief nod.

The moment Emma was out of earshot, Raven launched her impulsive tirade. “Publicly flaunting your mistress is hardly the way to avoid scandal.”

He regarded her levelly, not remarking on the unfairness of her attack. “I had no idea you cared about my mistresses.”

“I don’t, except when you make such an obvious display of your affections.”

“If you are so concerned about appearances, perhaps we should continue this argument in a less public forum.”

“Very well,” Raven replied tightly, realizing they were once again the focus of all eyes. “Where do you suggest?”

He gave her a curt, mocking bow. “I will meet you shortly upstairs in my apartments. I believe you know the way.”

She waited for him in his private study rather than the intimacy of his bedchamber. The fire had died down to embers, so she added more coal and stood at the hearth, warming her hands and wondering what madness had overcome her.

Did she really want to make an issue of Kell’s mistresses? Did she want to acknowledge her jealousy, even to herself?

At least she didn’t have long to wait. Only moments later Raven heard the study door shut softly. She whirled to find Kell leaning indolently against the door-jamb, watching her with narrowed eyes.

“I suppose you mean to explain your tantrum just now, dear wife,” he said finally, his tone cool.

Raven swallowed, regretting her earlier outburst. She hadn’t meant to make her possessiveness so obvious. “It was hardly a tantrum. It was more along the lines of a complaint.”

“And just what do you have to complain about?”

“Your indiscretion,” she prevaricated. “It is mortifying to have to watch your dalliance before a roomful of people.”

“If you had taken my advice and kept away, you wouldn’t have to watch my dalliance, as you put it.”

Pushing off from the door, Kell crossed the room toward her. Raven held her ground, but he only went to the hearth and bent to stir the fire.

“You were purposely flaunting your mistress directly under my nose,” she said tightly, “and I won’t stand for it.”

That drew a quick, challenging stare from him.

Raven flushed at his measuring appraisal, and she hurried on. “You agreed we would try to preserve the appearance of being in love. And publicly lusting after Miss Walsh is hardly the way to do it.”

“I trust,” Kell responded in a drawling voice, “you don’t expect me to live like a monk. I believe I mentioned that I’m not overly fond of celibacy.”

“No, but you might try to contain your passion for that woman and keep out of her bed.”

His eyebrow shot up. “Are you perhaps demanding fidelity from me, vixen? That was not part of our bargain, nor is it exactly fair. You have not been any kind of wife to me thus far.”

“And you have been no kind of husband!”

His gaze raked her. “If you don’t want me to seek my pleasure with Miss Walsh, perhaps you would care to take her place.”

Raven felt her heart skip a beat. “What exactly are you suggesting?”

“That you see to my pleasure yourself. You are perfectly capable of assuming the duties of a mistress, or at least fulfilling the carnal obligations required of a wife.”

Their gazes locked and held.

“So, love,” Kell murmured tauntingly, “are you willing to be a proper wife to me?”

Was she willing? Raven asked herself. She wanted Kell; there was no denying it. And she wanted to keep him from his beautiful hostess’s bed.

She stared back into his impenetrable eyes, the tension stretching like a taut cord between them.

“Very well,” she murmured.

“What did you say? I couldn’t hear you.”

“I said I was willing!”

He let his gaze slide down her. “You agree to satisfy my sexual needs?”

“Yes! Although I can’t imagine it will be easy to satisfy a libertine of your vast appetites.”

Her muttered comment was meant as an insult, but Kell returned a tolerant smile. “I expect you will be a quick study. After all, you have an unusual depth of knowledge gleaned from your erotic journal. And experience with your fantasy lover as well.”

Annoyed by his reminder, Raven frowned. Perhaps it had been unwise to tell Kell about her fantasies; certainly it was if he meant to throw her confessions back in her face.

“Well, what are you waiting for?” he asked as she stood trying to think of a suitable retort. “You just agreed to satisfy me.”

“You want me to-Now?”

“Why not now? What better opportunity to show me that you are serious? You can start by undressing me.”

“You cannot undress yourself?”

His smile was one of amused patience. “Where would be the satisfaction in that? I will find it much more pleasurable if you assume the honors.”

Biting back an oath, she reluctantly went to him and helped him out of his coat. Then she removed his waistcoat and untied his cravat. The open throat of his shirt revealed a glimpse of bronze-hued skin lightly sprinkled with hair.

“Please me, Raven,” he commanded softly when she hesitated. “Take off my shirt.”

Obediently she slid her hands beneath the fine cambric to touch his flesh, finding it warm and silky. With his help, she raised the shirt over his head but found herself distracted by the elegant patterns of dark hair on his chest.

“Raven?”

Dragging her gaze away, she glanced up at Kell. A cool smile played around his impossibly sensual mouth; he knew quite well how appealing she found his stark masculinity.

“Now my breeches.”

Her cheeks flushing at his knowing look, she took a deep breath and unbuttoned first the straining placket on his breeches, then his drawers. His rampant member sprang free, brushing her fingers. He was fully aroused, his erection as hard as marble.

Raven drew back as if she’d been burned. Merely touching him felt like playing with fire. Yet she wasn’t nearly as bold as he thought her. It was one thing to make love to a fantasy image, quite another to take the initiative with this beautiful, vital man.

She glanced up at him, hoping that her racing heart wasn’t obvious. “You are laboring under a misapprehension if you think I know how to pleasure you. I don’t have your prowess or experience.”