Nicole Jordan - Ecstasy

Seeing her laughter fade, though, Kell knew he had let his feverish lust become too apparent. Abruptly he rolled off her and helped her up, and they resumed their fight, yet the moment was no longer as blithe and natural between them.

Kell muttered an oath under his breath, not knowing how much more he could take of this tormenting dance. These past days had been a sadistic form of torture for him, as well as a severe exercise in control. He’d done his best to retire late and rise early to minimize the amount of time he had to endure lying next to Raven, burning with desire yet permitted to do nothing more than share his body heat.

It was no doubt fortunate she had erected a wall between them, he thought, watching her brush snow from her new cloak. He could fall for her so easily. He had never met a woman who tied him in such knots. Her merest smile left him breathless, while her touch sent fire streaking through him.

Yet he couldn’t make the dire mistake of falling in love with her. That was the surest path to heartache, for Raven would likely spurn him…and he would earn his brother’s resentment at the same stroke.

The more determined Kell was to deny his passion, however, the more fiercely his need grew to possess her. Three mornings later, he gave up trying to fight his longing when he woke to find Raven curled against him and his erection throbbing. He lay quietly watching her, feeling a powerful tenderness for this woman who was his wife.

His heart performed a somersault when she slowly stirred awake. She looked incredibly alluring-soft and sleepy, her defenses down, her hair falling loosely over her shoulders in a wild mane.

He resolved then to overcome her resistance, whatever it took…and he knew it would take a great deal when she reacted. Seeing him watching her, Raven abruptly started to draw back.

Kell wrapped his fingers in her hair. “Don’t go,” he murmured. “Stay and keep me warm.”

Obligingly she remained where she was, yet he could feel the tension in every part of her body.

He fingered a raven lock of her hair. “I’m still not certain what makes you so afraid to give yourself to me.”

Her gaze lowered, focusing on his bare chest. “I told you. I never intend to succumb to hopeless passion the way my mother did.”

“You never speak of your father,” Kell observed evenly.

Her tone turned wary. “What is there to say?”

“I understand he wasn’t your real father.”

“Grandfather told you?” Dismay etched her beautiful features.

“He said he regretted forcing your mother to marry. I would like to hear about Kendrick. You must not have cared much for him.”

Kell saw her blue eyes flash before she averted her gaze again. “I didn’t care for him. And he never cared for me. He never let me forget that I was not his child.”

“Was he cruel to you?”

She hesitated, but he could sense her pain simply in her silence. “Not in the physical sense,” she finally whispered in a raw voice. “He never struck me. He just constantly reminded me of my illegitimacy. In public he claimed me as his own, but in private he called me his little bastard.” The tremulous note in her voice held a touch of bitterness. “I suppose he ridiculed me simply to hurt my mother, because he was wounded by her sadness. She ignored him and hurt him with her continued pining, and he grew resentful.”

Kell put a finger under her chin, compelling Raven to look at him. “So that was the true reason you wanted to marry your duke?”

“Largely.” Her mouth twisted in a humorless, self-mocking smile, before she continued in a hoarse undertone. “A child of love, my mother always called me. But still I couldn’t help feeling the shame of being conceived out of wedlock. Being titled would ensure my respectability, even if the question of my parentage ever became common knowledge.”

Her voice was so low, he barely heard her admission. “Mama wanted that fear put to rest as well, but she was more concerned with my taking my rightful position in society… To assuage her guilt, she said. For denying me my birthright.” Raven’s gaze took on an anguished, faraway look, as if she were lost in distressing memories. “I told her it didn’t matter, but she insisted. I held her hand while she was dying, and she made me swear to wed a grand title… But in the end, I couldn’t keep my promise.”

Tears burned in her blue eyes, and a shudder swept her body.

Kell wrapped his arms around her, drawing her close. A surge of hunger coursed through him at the intimate contact, yet mixed with his lust was a painful tenderness for her, a raw desire to protect and cherish. It wrenched his heart to realize how Raven’s dreams had been shattered and to know that his own brother had been responsible. He had pretended not to care, but he did care…deeply.

“You weren’t to blame for breaking your promise,” he said quietly.

“No,” she replied, the word a harsh murmur. “I had no control over that. But I can keep the vow I made to myself-never to make the same mistake my mother made, losing myself to a man and becoming so powerless. Never to let love destroy my life.”

Drawing a slow breath, Kell spoke into her hair and lied. “You needn’t worry about love developing between us. I told you I’m not interested in love.” Pulling back, he raised himself on one elbow. “You have only to give me your lovely body.”

Raven hesitated, torn. She wanted to surrender to the dark desire his words had stirred, wanted to give in to Kell. Yet she wasn’t certain she could trust herself to make love to him and not hunger for more, for something even deeper than the closeness and comfort and warmth she already craved from him.

Involuntarily she reached up and touched her fingers to his sensual mouth, then higher, along his cheekbone and the scar she rarely noticed anymore, it seemed so much a part of him.

When she remained silent, Kell eased away from her, interrupting her roiling thoughts. She watched in surprise as he rose from the bed. He wore no nightshirt, only his drawers, and as usual the sight of his muscled build, sleek and elegant and superbly athletic, made her breath falter.

Going to the hearth, he built up the fire to a crackling blaze, then went into the adjoining dressing room. A moment later he returned with the black satin bag that contained the sponges.

“The decision is yours,” he said, handing her the bag.

Rejoining her beneath the covers, he stretched out beside her, close but not touching. For a long moment he simply lay there, watching her. Waiting for her answer.

The room was warmer now, Raven realized. Or perhaps it was only she who was warmer. The heat in Kell’s eyes was blazing enough to scorch her.

It grew hotter still when she murmured her hushed reply. “Perhaps just this once.”

He smiled and pulled her into his arms, his mouth seeking hers.

“Kell…”

Tenderly he silenced her protest with a scorching kiss. When she yielded with a needy whimper, his lips left hers to skim hotly against her throat, sending a wild surge of desire coursing through her.

“It’s only sex,” he whispered as he pressed her down into the pillows. “You know that, don’t you?”

“Yes,” Raven moaned in response, though not quite believing as she gave herself over to wanton abandon.

The heavy snows eventually ceased, allowing their return to London at last. Kell resumed spending his nights in his own bedchamber and his days at his club, yet Raven was less grateful than she might have imagined. Without his company, her loneliness seemed magnified.

Moreover, although the new year had dawned bright with hope that the interminable war with Napoleon might soon be over, the winter was the coldest in local memory. So cold that even the Thames River itself began to freeze.

The absence of her closest friends from town didn’t help, Raven knew. She had too much time on her hands to remember Kell and his lovemaking-the exquisite torment, the paralyzing pleasure-and the dangerous temptation he posed. During their intimate holiday interlude, he had probed her deepest emotions, exposed her greatest pain, and now she was left to deal with the aftermath, where her private yearnings battled her long-held fears.

Kell, too, was fighting his own battle. Business had dwindled significantly at the Golden Fleece, due both to the holidays and to the frigid weather, and he had little occupation to help drive thoughts of Raven from his mind or to make him forget her recent confession about her parentage.

She hadn’t wanted to reveal so much about herself, Kell knew. Raven kept the emotions that hurt the most locked deep inside, as he did. But he’d heard the pain in her voice when she spoke of her illegitimacy, seen the grief in her eyes at breaking her promise to her mother-and he’d felt shaken by a profound tenderness.

He had tried not to let her concerns become important to him, but they had. And now he found himself wanting to make amends.

He could at least undo some of the damage his brother had wrought, Kell decided; he was wealthy enough to purchase a title for Raven. The Prince Regent’s coffers were always in need of replenishing, since Parliament often refused his exorbitant requests for funds. And the Crown had been known to create new titles, regrant extinct ones, and recommend peerages in exchange for services rendered. Kell had little doubt he could be knighted or awarded a barony for the right price.

He asked Dare’s opinion about the matter when the marquess returned to London at the end of January.

“No, it shouldn’t be difficult for you to acquire a title,” Dare responded with only a slight lift of an eyebrow. “Blessingham obtained his earldom by making Prinny a loan that was never expected to be repaid. If you like, I can put a discreet word in the Regent’s ear. But I thought you disdained our snobbish aristocratic set.”