Nicole Jordan (15 page)

They had little to say to each other on the drive to London. Only when they arrived at what was to be her new home did her interest perk up.

The town house stood in a quiet, elegant square—not as grand as her great-aunt’s mansion, but just as luxurious and possibly more tasteful. The front entrance hall was spacious and adorned with various works of art: sculpture and beautiful tapestries and landscapes in oils.

The introductions to his staff, however, proved awkward. The varying degrees of shock and surprise on their faces told Raven very clearly how unexpected their master’s marriage was.

Ignoring their responses, Kell ordered that Mrs. Lasseter be given the chambers adjacent to his and a maid be sent to help her unpack.

When the servants had been dismissed, he addressed Raven directly. “You will likely want to hire your own lady’s maid. This is a bachelor’s residence and not equipped for a mistress.”

“My aunt can probably spare one of hers,” Raven replied evenly.

“Good. And you can have O’Malley fetch your trunks.”

She was grateful he had remembered. Yet she scarcely had time to glance around her before Kell took his leave.

“You are going?” she asked, caught off guard, and immediately regretted sounding so possessive.

“My staff is capable of showing you the house and helping you get settled.”

“Of course,” she murmured, even while wondering what they would think about a newly wedded husband abandoning his bride on his doorstep.

“I have a business to run,” Kell reminded her. “And I must speak to my brother before he hears the news from some other source.”

His dark tone suggested he was not looking forward to the task, and Raven felt her heart sink at the thought of Sean’s reaction. “He won’t be happy to learn of our marriage.”

A muscle flexed in his jaw. “No, but I will see that he respects it. You needn’t worry about Sean.”

She nodded, making no further comment when, with a brief bow, Kell turned to the front door.

She followed his tall, lithe form with her gaze as he let himself from the house. Perhaps it was madness, but Kell inspired in her an illogical sense of safety, at least when it came to his brother. She trusted him to keep his word to shield her. Kell would make a formidable protector, she had little doubt.

Just as he had made a formidable lover last night—with scarcely any effort at all. The memory of his claiming was imprinted vividly on her mind and stamped indelibly between her thighs….

Raven felt herself flushing. Even with her significant exposure to the eroticism of the journal, she couldn’t have anticipated the explosion of passion he’d unleashed in her. Or the aching, overwhelming sense of fulfillment that she’d never found in any of her fantasies. The thought that she would never again know the fire of his touch filled her with a strange melancholy.

Yet she had no right to protest. Kell had already aided her more than once. First by saving her from his brother’s ravishment, then by giving her the protection of his name. She couldn’t ask him for more.

Squaring her shoulders, Raven turned toward the wide staircase. At the moment she had her own difficulties to face. And it looked very much as if she would have to face them alone.

“You are jesting, right?” Sean demanded, staring at his brother.

They were in the library of Sean’s imposing town house—the same London mansion that had been in the Lasseter family for nearly a century.

Unaccustomed to being roused from bed before noon, Sean had thrown a dressing gown over his nightshirt and joined Kell in the bookroom, looking rumpled and bleary-eyed and worse for wear after an obviously hard night of carousing.

“It is no jest, I’m afraid,” Kell replied evenly. “We were wed last evening by special license.”

He watched his brother grow white around the mouth. For a moment Sean said nothing. Then he went to the side table and poured himself a tumblerful of whiskey and tossed it back in a long swallow. When at last he spoke, his voice trembled with rage.

“Forgive me if I find it hard to credit that my own brother would betray me by wedding the vicious slut who ruined my life.”

Roughly Kell raked a hand through his hair. He had known this meeting would be turbulent, known Sean would be furious and resentful, but he strove to keep his own temper under control.

“I hardly betrayed you, Sean. Rather, I saved you from prison. You should consider yourself damned fortunate that I was able to intervene. It might have escaped your notice, but by abducting Miss Kendrick, you were in grave danger of retribution from her enraged family. They threatened to prosecute you. Would you rather I allowed you to be locked away?”

Sean sent him a bitter, scathing look. “You could have found another way. I expected better from you, damn you, Kell! I trusted you not to plunge a knife in my back!”

Without warning, he hurled the tumbler into the hearth, shattering the heavy crystal with a crash. Then he threw himself into a chair, pressing a hand over his eyes as if in dire pain.

Kell clenched his jaw. He felt a measure of guilt at his brother’s unhappiness, but anger as well at Sean for precipitating this disaster. “You left me little choice. If not for your means of seeking revenge, I would never have been compelled to wed her.”

“She deserved what she got!”

“I’m not so certain of that. She wasn’t responsible for your impressment—her groom was. And even he wasn’t wholly to blame, for he was merely trying to protect her. What did you expect him to do when you assaulted her last summer?”

“She has duped you completely, hasn’t she?”

“I don’t think so.”

“No? You believe her over me. You’ve sided with her over your own flesh and blood. You’ve played the fool for her like countless other witless swains. You were taken in by her wiles, just as I was.”

“You’re mistaken,” Kell said grimly.

“Am I? How else can you explain your betrayal?” His bitterness was edged with a grief that seemed genuine when tears filled his eyes. “You stole her from me, Kell. I loved her, and you stole her from me.”

Kell shook his head slowly. “If you truly loved her, Sean, you would never have tormented her as you did. You would not have wanted to see her so devastated, standing alone against society, enduring the cruelty our own mother did.” He felt his hands curl into fists. “I was not about to let her suffer the way our mother suffered, Sean.”

Looking ashamed, Sean averted his gaze. “I did love Miss Kendrick. I do. I swear it. I would have married her myself.”

“That never would have happened,” Kell assured him. “She never would have accepted you as her husband after what you did to her.”

His face twisting in pain, Sean ran a hand roughly down his face. Kell took pity on his brother and gentled his tone. “You should be satisfied with your revenge thus far. Think about it. You accomplished precisely what you set out to do. You’ve tumbled her from her elite station. She will never wed her duke, never lead society.” He gave a scoffing laugh. “No doubt she’ll be shunned simply because of who I am. In order to explain her sudden disappearance, we’re putting about the story that we were madly in love; that I abducted her because I couldn’t bear to live without her. A love match with a half-Irish gamester who possesses my notorious reputation could prove just as big a scandal as jilting a duke. The ton will never forgive her for loving so far beneath her station.”

Sean’s mouth twisted in contempt. He, like Kell, held a burning resentment for society’s view of class differences. In truth, Kell was convinced that being unable to compete against a nobleman for Miss Kendrick’s hand in marriage had outraged Sean as much or more than her refusal of his suit.

But his brother apparently was not willing to forgivehim , at least not yet. Sean shook his head, his voice lowering to harsh fury. “May you both rot in hell.”

“Sean…”

“Get out. Just leave me alone.”

“In a moment. I have not finished what I came here to say.”

“There is more?” Sean sneered.

“I want you to absent yourself from London for a while.”

Sean stared. “Why the devil should I?”

“Because it will permit the scandal to die down, as well as allow time for her family’s wrath to cool. They could still decide to prosecute, you realize. If you remain here, you risk prodding a raw wound.”

“And just where do you expect me to go?”

“To Ireland. To the farm. You haven’t visited there since last winter.”

Three years ago Kell had purchased a horse farm outside Dublin, to provide Sean a place of refuge when his demons grew too fierce to bear. Now seemed an opportune time for him to return.

“I will make all the arrangements,” Kell added. “You can take the opportunity to gain control of yourself. And to think about what you did.”

“Just what did I do that was so terrible?”

Kell stifled a sigh. “No man of honor raises a hand to a woman, Sean. You crossed the line. What is more, you lied to me about what happened between the two of you. Raven Kendrick never gave you her body as you claimed.”

Sean’s green eyes filled with anguish, but he remained mute.

“I’ve made excuses for you in the past because I understood how you suffered. And I realize how your experience during your impressment could drive you to want revenge. But what you did to Raven Kendrick was inexcusable.”

“Go to hell.”

“As long as you go to Ireland.”

Sean’s spine went rigid. “I don’t have to do what you say. You’re no brother of mine. Go play the fool with your scheming bride. And don’t complain to me when you are burned by her wiles.”

“You will leave London, Sean, even if I have to escort you myself.”

“You will have to carry me, then.”

“If I must.”

Setting his jaw, Kell turned away and let himself out of the house he had hated for years. His brother needed time to become accustomed to the shocking news of his marriage, but Sean’s accusations had hurt more than he would have thought possible.

How had events come to such a pass? Never in his darkest dreams would he ever have expected a woman to come between them. The last thing he’d wanted was to wound his brother by taking a bride Sean claimed to love. Yet he would still do it again, in order to protect his brother from himself.

For years now, Sean’s self-destructive tendencies had alarmed Kell, although he’d always felt compelled to make allowances. Having an innocent boyhood shattered by depravity was an agony that only the strongest souls could fully overcome. And Sean had never been very strong.

His path to torment had begun the day they’d lost their father to sudden illness, when Kell was fourteen and Sean nine. Their father’s unexpected death was a devastating blow, but Adam Lasseter was scarcely in the ground when their hated uncle exercised his powers of guardianship and banished their mother from their lives. Fiona had had no power or resources to fight the disdainful Lasseters—nor did Kell at the time. During his tearful farewells with his mother, he’d sworn faithfully to look after his younger brother.

A solemn responsibility at which he’d failed terribly.

Kell climbed wearily into his waiting carriage and settled back, his conscience aching, his own thoughts bitter as he remembered those grim years when he and Sean had been forced to live under his uncle’s roof. They had never seen their mother again, for she’d died in Ireland barely a year later, too destitute to afford the care that might have saved her from the influenza epidemic that had raced through the Dublin slums.

Kell’s hatred for William Lasseter had become irrevocable. Seething with defiance, he had let his loathing drive his every action—rebelling at every opportunity, earning himself countless beatings. Devil’s spawn, his uncle called him. They had argued intensely and often, and Kell even ran away once, taking Sean with him. But their uncle dragged them back home, severely punishing them both and threatening to make Sean suffer worse if Kell’s insubordination continued.

After that, he had tried to contain his smoldering hatred for his younger brother’s sake, biding his time, resolving to wait until he could reach his majority and gain the power to fight his uncle.

At seventeen, Kell had gone away to university, while Sean remained at home under William’s control, schooled by tutors. When Kell did come home for holidays and term recesses, Sean seemed withdrawn, despondent, but he denied anything was wrong…. Out of shame, Kell finally learned to his revulsion.

He’d returned home for Christmas during his second year and discovered the sordid truth: that William Lasseter had an unnatural desire for thirteen-year-old boys.

Kell had planned to attend a worship service with his brother when he found Sean huddling before a roaring fire in his room, enveloped in a dozen blankets but trembling with cold.

“I c-cannot go to church, K-Kell,” he said, his teeth chattering. “N-not when I am so unclean.”

“What are you talking about, pup?” Kell asked teasingly. “Do you mean to say you haven’t bathed or washed behind your ears?”

The agony on Sean’s face was unmistakable. “No, I have bathed. But I cannot get clean. God help me…. He made me do it, Kell. I couldn’t stop him.”

Sean had broken down in sobs then, and the tale gradually came out. For months he had been sodomized by their uncle William.

Remembering his sick horror even now, Kell rubbed his scarred cheek. He’d erupted in fury, threatening to kill William if he dared touch Sean again—

“Mr. Lasseter, sir?” a footman’s solemn voice asked, interrupting Kell’s dark thoughts.

His carriage had come to a halt before his gaming club, he realized.

Feeling almost ancient, his injured leg aching, he dismounted slowly and made his way up the front steps, where he was greeted at the door by his majordomo.

Timmons was too well-trained to ask about his master’s unexpected disappearance, but Kell responded to his quizzical regard with a terse explanation. “I had some matters that required my attention.”

“Very well, sir. Miss Walsh has managed in your absence. She has not yet risen, as she didn’t retire until the wee hours of the morning. A party of gentlemen commandeered the hazard table, playing for exceptionally high stakes.”