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.
Chapter Eighteen
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.”
Kell returned a wry smile. “I do. But Raven being able to attach ‘Lady’ before her name would set her mind at ease and let her fulfill the vow she made to her mother to wed a title.”
Dare only nodded in approval, but the amused gleam in his eyes suggested incredulity that Kell would even consider such a step.
It amazed Kell as well. He had never aspired to join the ranks of society’s upper crust, but now he was actually contemplating letting go of his anger for Raven’s sake, relinquishing his self-imposed, admittedly lonely sentence as an outcast.
Indeed, his entire outlook on life had changed since wedding her. Before their marriage two months ago he would never have envisioned the lengths he would go to simply for the hope of seeing her smile.
By the first few days of February, the Thames had frozen to a solid surface, and Kell surprised both himself and Raven by inviting her to the impromptu fair on the ice that the papers were calling a Frost Fair. It was a sign of her restlessness that Raven accepted so readily, Kell suspected.
The scene between the London and Blackfriars Bridges did resemble a huge fair, with immense crowds milling on the frozen river, enjoying the spontaneous festivities. There were countless stalls and booths selling food and liquor and wares. Swings and merry-go-rounds. People dancing reels and playing skittles. And even printing presses turning out handbills and broadsides to commemorate the occasion.
Raven appeared delighted by the novelty, especially the gaming, which included E.O., Rouge-et-Noir, and Wheels of Fortune.
“Are you certain you don’t want to set up your own booth?” Raven laughingly demanded of Kell. “You could bring your hazard table here and make an outrageous profit, as these vendors appear to be doing.”
“I think I will spare myself the trouble. The ice isn’t likely to last, and I’d rather not run the risk of having my expensive hazard table sink to the bottom of the Thames.”