Chapter 8
Heloise’s heart slammed against her ribs. “I’m sorry, did you say Spain? Have you hit your head?”
He set his mouth into a tight, stubborn line and shot an ironic glance at her wrist. “You don’t have a choice. If you haven’t noticed, you’re in no position to argue.”
She could hardly breathe. The thought of going anywhere with Raven was a heady prospect, but for pride’s sake she ought to make at least a token protest. “I understand your desire to go and help your friend, but you have to consider things from my perspective. I can’t go haring all over Europe with you. I’ll be ruined.”
“A good man’s life is worth more than your reputation. Besides, I thought you wanted to get rid of your suitors. This is the perfect opportunity.”
“People will think we’ve eloped.”
“Not if they know either one of us,” he replied succinctly. “If we both disappear they’re more likely to assume I’ve murdered you and fled the country.”
Heloise scowled. He was right. Raven’s well-known aversion to marriage would work in his favor. People reallywouldbelieve he’d kill someone rather than get married. “It’s all right for you. You don’t have a reputation to lose.”
Hewasn’t shackled by his gender and the suffocating restrictions of society. The flagrant double standards between behavior acceptable for men and that permitted to women was one of the things that irritated her most about the ton. Yes, she’d been fortunate enough to be born into a wealthy family, but money hadn’t been able to buy her the equality she craved. Or the freedom.
Raven tilted his head as he approached her. “Argue all you want, but I’m not going to change my mind. You’re staying with me.”
Heloise sighed. She couldn’t go home. With her family away, the house was staffed with only a handful of servants and she undoubtedly needed protection. Raven might tease her, but she had absolutely no qualms about his ability to keep her safe.
The idea of being ruined socially didn’t particularly concern her. Maybe Collingham and Wiltonwouldthink twice about her as a suitable bride if she disappeared with Raven. She sat down on the edge of the bed. “You’ll need to let my family know where we’ve gone. They’ll be worried sick if I just disappear.”
He recognized her acceptance with a nod. “I’ll write to Castlereagh and your brother Richard and tell them where we’re going.” He undid his cravat and slipped it from his neck in a slow slide. Heloise watched the movement with deep suspicion.
“What are you doing?” The way he drew the silk through his left hand was both menacing and a caress. Suddenly uneasy, she edged backward. “I’ve said I’ll come with you. Don’t touch me,” she warned as he came closer.
His smile was not reassuring. The mattress dipped as he placed one knee beside her. Heloise shrank back against the bolster.
“I doubt any of the party guests would investigate if they heard you shouting,” he murmured, “and the servants are too well trained to interrupt, but just in case…”
Quick as a flash he slipped the silk across her mouth and tied it behind her head. Heloise punched him with her free hand but he warded off her blows with a chuckle and stepped back to survey his impromptu gag. The beast had got it between her teeth, like a horse’s bit. She tried to pull it down with her free hand but the knot at the back of her head was too tight.
Thoroughly incensed, she kicked out at him with her foot. She had a moment’s satisfaction when she connected with his thigh, but realized her mistake when he caught her ankle and her skirts rode high up her legs, giving him a scandalous view of stockings, garter, and thigh.
His brows shot up in surprise. She jerked her leg, but instead of releasing her, the devil traced a maddening circle around her ankle bone with his thumb. Heloise stilled, mortified by the hum of awareness his touch generated.
“You’re so well educated, I always assumed you worebluestockings under there,” he said, grinning. “But no. Who’d have thought such a demure outer garment would hide such exotic underclothes?”
Her face burned. Her one sinful extravagance was an abiding love of beautiful underwear, a passion for silk and lace inherited from her very French mother. She rebelled against the staid, conventional exterior ordained by society by wearing the most decadent and inappropriately colorful underwear she could buy. And she’d imagined herself to be safe because, really, who would ever see?
“Peach is one of my very favorite colors,” Raven drawled. He released her foot and Heloise scrambled to rearrange herself into a more demure position, then glared at him over the gag. His smile widened at her impotent fury.
Determined not to rise to the bait, she held perfectly still as he caught her chin. She thought about trying to kick him again but her body seemed paralyzed by the hot, wicked look in his eyes. His breath tickled over her skin as he leaned forward and kissed the very tip of her nose.
Chuckling, he stepped away and crossed to the door and Heloise realized incredulously that he was going to leave her, like this, gagged and handcuffed to his bed. She made a muffled sound of protest and he turned, his eyes glittering with amusement.
“Stay where you are, sweetheart. I’ve got a few things to do, but I’ll be back soon. I promise.”
The furious, ironic look she shot him needed no translation. Just to prove she wasn’t cowed, Heloise pulled off her slipper and threw it at his head. Unfortunately, her aim with her left hand was poor. The bastard didn’t even have the grace to duck. It bounced harmlessly off the doorframe next to his head.
—
Raven leaned back against his bedroom door with a sigh. Kissing Heloise again had been beyond stupid. He’d done it partly to annoy her—he loved her tousled and furious—and partly because he’d needed her flustered enough to get her over to the bed so he could secure her.
Taking her to Spain with him was insane. It would be hard enough trying to track down Kit without having Little Miss Hampden trailing along, driving him to distraction. The terrain of the Peninsula was harsh and unforgiving. She had no field experience at all. She’d probably never been farther afield than London.
But what other choice did he have? She’d barely escaped with her life tonight. The danger to her here, from some unnamed French assassin, was surely greater than if she came with him. If their enemies had managed to discover where she lived, they might also have discovered the location of Castlereagh’s numerous safe houses. He couldn’t risk sending her to one of those, and it would be almost impossible for anyone to track them once they left the country.