Nicole Jordan - Ecstasy

Kell tossed the whip on the adjacent table and noted the other weapons his brother had staged there-a pistol and a lethal-looking knife. Sean had obviously come prepared for every eventuality.

Just then the woman on the bed stirred, giving a low moan. Taking up the knife, Kell went to her. Her patrician face was flushed and feverish, but he fought his feelings of sympathy, reminding himself of her treachery as he carefully sliced away her bonds and freed her hands.

For an instant she opened her eyes, looking up at him with a vacant stare, and Kell froze in reaction. Long, sooty black lashes rimmed incredible blue eyes, making him suddenly understand the bewitching effect she’d had on his brother.

From the huge size of her pupils, though, he could clearly see she’d been drugged. Her lashes lowered and fluttered against ivory skin. Then rolling over with a weak groan, she pressed her face into the pillow.

Deliberately he drew the corner of the counterpane over her, as much to shield her near nakedness from his sight as to ensure her warmth. He had no desire to fall victim to her dangerous allure, as his brother had.

“What did you give her, Sean?” he asked over his shoulder.

“ ’Phrodisac. Made her drink it. Thash when she scratched me.”

“Not cantharides?” Kell said sharply. “Did you give her Spanish fly?”

“No…not that. Shomething Oriental. S’posed to work as well. Got it from Madame Fouchet.”

Kell felt another twinge of relief. Madame Fouchet was the proprietor of a high-class brothel Sean frequented. She would have knowledge of aphrodisiacs and appropriate doses. More crucially, she would have shunned Spanish fly, which reportedly could be deadly. Even so, it would likely be many hours before this drug wore off…

Kell ran a hand impatiently through his hair, wondering what to do about this damnable situation.

“Why an aphrodisiac?” he asked absently. “Why not simply a sleeping potion if you wanted to render her unable to fight you?”

“To make her want me.” Sean flashed a sad, watery smile. “Like she once did. She wanted me, Kell. She was so hot…could not get enough of me.”

With that, Sean struggled to his feet and moved toward the bed, determination etching his features. “Gonna use her body the way she did mine…”

Just as determinedly, Kell stepped in his path.

Sean blinked at him, then frowned. “You mean to stop me?”

“You can’t go about ravishing young ladies, no matter how reprehensible they are.”

“But sheesh no lady,” Sean replied plaintively. “She looks innochent enough, but she gave me her body. An’ doan forget, she’s Englissh.”

The reminder was like twisting a knife inside Kell. Miss Kendrick had reportedly turned down his brother’s proposal of marriage not simply because Sean was untitled, but because he was half-Irish.

Kell felt his jaw clench with familiar fury. Undoubtedly the haughty temptress had the same callous contempt for those beneath her social standing that the disdainful English Lasseters had had for his Irish mother. The same contempt that had led to his mother’s death and that still made him seethe.

He glanced over his shoulder, torn between his brother’s rightful desire for justice and his own reflexive urge to protect the helpless beauty in his bed.

He shook his head at his particular vulnerability-caring too much for the weak and powerless. How could he possibly feel sympathy for a femme fatale who’d so viciously left a trail of broken hearts across half of England? Especially when he’d sworn years ago never to let anyone hurt his brother again?

Yet, still…he would be protecting Sean by preventing his vengeance. Sean had evidently planned to seduce and abandon the beautiful Jezebel, but there would be hell to pay as a result.

“You don’t honestly want to see her tortured,” Kell asserted in a low voice.

“Yesh, I do!”

“What of the club? Do you want my reputation destroyed by a violent assault on a reputed lady?”

Grimacing, Sean brought his bottle to his lips. “Doan care,” he muttered.

Kell narrowed his gaze, belatedly wondering why Sean had brought Miss Kendrick here instead of to his own town house. Perhaps deep inside he’d wanted to be prevented from carrying out his planned vengeance. Or perhaps he’d purposely involved Kell in his machinations, bent on another sort of revenge…

Feeling a familiar ache at his brother’s festering resentment, Kell put a hand on his arm. “You should go home, Sean. You won’t find any further satisfaction by hurting her. Miss Kendrick’s reputation is thoroughly ruined now. Adequate enough revenge, wouldn’t you say?”

With a snarl, Sean shook off the restraining hand. “No! Not enough.”

Kell gave his brother a steady, intent stare. “Sean,” he said in a quiet, warning voice.

The younger man ducked his head, suddenly looking as if he might cry. After another glance at the helpless woman on the bed, however, he nodded drunkenly.

Kell led his brother to the main bedchamber door and unlocked it, glad to find Emma waiting anxiously in the corridor.

“Have someone take him home,” Kell murmured. “I will deal with him tomorrow when he’s in his right mind.”

“Yes, of course,” Emma said, putting a supporting arm around Sean’s waist and urging him toward the far staircase.

After watching them go, Kell shut the door softly, but he took a deep breath before turning to face his dilemma. What in hell’s name was he to do with the suffering, senseless woman in his bed?

Most certainly he couldn’t return her to her family in this pitiful condition. Indeed, for her own safety, he would have to keep a close eye on her. If the aphrodisiac she’d been given was even half as powerful as cantharides, she would be driven by sheer lust. And if left on her own, she might assault any man she encountered…

No, better to let her sleep off the drug and return her to her family in the morning.

Kell frowned. Raven Kendrick had thrown off the cover and was thrashing her bare legs feverishly, twisting her head side to side on the pillow. Steeling himself, he approached the bed.

She had turned onto her back, and her gossamer chemise did little to hide her sweet, firm breasts with their rose-hued nipples or the dark thatch of curls between her thighs. But it was the glorious raven tresses framing her heart-shaped face that held him momentarily spellbound-

Suddenly she reached out, her fingers clutching his arm with surprising strength as she gazed up at him, her eyes wide and unfocused. Kell found himself staring into deep pools of blue fringed by heavy lashes.

He cursed, damning the sudden quickening in his loins.

Yet, as if comforted by the sight of him, she abruptly stilled and let her eyes close. “My pirate,” she whispered. The faint smile that wreathed her delicate lips held incredible sensuality…

Hell and damnation. It was nearly impossible for him not to soften toward his beautiful, unwanted hostage. But he had to harden his heart if he had any chance of making it through the night unscathed without becoming her victim.

Extricating his arm from her astonishingly strong grasp, Kell went to the washstand to make certain the pitcher and basin held enough water to cool her fevered body. He’d seen the effects of a similar drug before, at a debauched revelry during his wilder days. She would eventually become hot as a volcano, simmering with sexual need, threatening to explode at any moment. Whatever pain she’d endured at his brother’s hands would pale in comparison to the torment she would experience from the drug if she didn’t find relief. And if he had the least measure of compassion, he would have to provide it for her, would have to help ease her suffering…

He glanced at the windows where a gray winter light still shone, grimly noting that it was late afternoon. Crossing to the fireplace, he stirred the embers and added a scoop of coal to counter the growing chill. He would have Emma bring up supper later.

At the bureau, Kell poured himself a generous glass of whiskey from a crystal decanter. Then gritting his teeth, he sank into the chair to wait, knowing it would doubtless be a long night.

Raven arched against her lover’s hand, desperately seeking the exquisite relief of his touch. Her senses were painfully acute. Her skin felt too tight, too sensitive, the ache between her legs unbearable.

“Please,” she begged, “make it stop.” She felt so feverish, so hot, as she wavered between illusion and awareness.

“Steady,” he murmured in reply, as if gentling a fractious mare.

His hand slipped inside her bodice and gently stroked the tender flesh of her breasts, playing over her taut nipples. She sighed at the soothing coolness of his palm offering her relief.

Her fantasy had never been so vivid, so intense. She was acutely aware of her pirate lover in a way she’d never experienced. The animal heat radiating from his body. The male musk of his skin. The delicious taste of his mouth. The demanding gentleness of his caresses…Nearly shaking with desire, she reached for him, wanting him with a blind, ferocious need.

He wanted her as well, she could tell. He hadn’t fully undressed, but beneath his breeches, he was hard, swollen, ready to take her. Yet when she touched his loins, he stiffened and drew back, out of reach.

His hand moved lower, though, down her body, slipping between her thighs, as if he knew exactly what she craved.

“Let me help you…”

She scarcely comprehended the words, but his voice sounded like poetry: dark, sensual, arousing. Whimpering, she lifted her hips to him and dug her fingers into the bedcovers.