Keeping her with him would be dangerous, but the simple truth was he didn’t trust anyone else. She’d be safe with him. Despite his teasing and threats, he respected her too much to treat her like all the other women in his life—as a brief, shallow amusement. Her brothers, Richard and Nic, trusted him implicitly and he’d never risk losing their friendship by dishonoring her. They’d not only expect him to keep their precious little sister alive, but to return her in exactly the same state she left in. Unhurt. Untouched.Unkissed.
The woman was a walking temptation, but he didn’t doubt his ability to resist her. He’d been doing precisely that for the last six years. But she didn’t make it easy, and proximity would only make it worse.
The unexpected sight of her courtesan’s underwear had nearly sent him to his knees. A too-clever scholar had no right to wear silk and lace nothings. Underwear like that was a visual promise to sin—one Miss Heloise Hampden had absolutely no intention of keeping. It was damned false advertising.
How was he going to concentrate now that he knew what she had on underneath her pure-as-the-driven-snow dress? It had been bad enough when he’d only had his imagination to deal with. Reality surpassed evenhislascivious imaginings.
Bloody hell.
Raven pushed off the door and strode back toward the party. His lack of cravat and general dishabille would occasion no comment. A certain state of undress was expected of him by this time in the proceedings, although he doubted many of his guests would be sober enough to notice.
At the head of the great staircase he glanced up. Some Ravenwood ancestor had commissioned a famous Italian to paint the ceiling. The riotous scenes complemented the evening’s entertainments perfectly; the writhing celestial debauchery of the assembled Olympian gods mirrored the acres of heaving bare flesh in the ballroom below.
Raven felt a brief, childish stab of satisfaction. His grandfather, the starchy old bastard, would have another apoplexy if he could see the stately seat of the Dukes of Avondale filled with iniquity and sin. The disrespect, though petty, was still remarkably enjoyable.
The old miser’s belated attempts to make amends after Raven’s kidnapping had been too little, too late. He’d shown where his priorities lay when he’d refused to pay the ransom. Raven hadn’t taken a penny of his grandfather’s money, nor the titles that were due to him after his father’s death. He’d told his grandfather to bequeath the marquisate to a distant relative.
The only thing hehadaccepted was this house, though he hated the place. Not the building itself, but the accumulation of things it represented. It weighed him down with a sense of noble responsibility, when he wanted his life to be as simple and unencumbered as possible. But the remote coastal location had been perfect for wartime subterfuge and it bordered the Hampden’s estate, home of the best friends and only family he’d ever truly known. Little Miss Hellcat included.
His practiced gaze picked out the dark figure of Hades abducting a protesting Persephone and he hissed in silent commiseration. Poor sod, driven to such desperate measures. Raven knew exactly how that felt. Heloise Hampden was everything he wanted, and everything he couldn’t have.
He avoided the ballroom and entered his study, where he scrawled a hasty message to Richard and another to Castlereagh, enclosing Heloise’s encoded note, then sat back in his chair with a sigh. God, what a mess. He stared moodily across the room at the crest carved into the mantel and grimaced at the irony of his family motto. The Latin phrase came from Virgil’sAeneid;“Sic itur ad astra.”Thus you shall go to the stars.
What was that supposed to mean, anyway? The stars were as remote and untouchable as the girl currently cuffed to his bedpost. A man like him could never reach them.
Raven frowned in sudden recollection. He’d had a signet ring with that crest on it, once. It had been his father’s. The bastards who’d kidnapped him had sent it as proof of life to his grandfather. He wondered where it was now.
Raven rang for a servant and handed him the notes. “I want these delivered to Lord Castlereagh immediately.”
“Yes, my lord.”
“And have someone saddle my horse.”
Chapter 9
Heloise glared at the clock as it chimed two. Raven had been gone forover an hour.An initial burst of fevered activity had resulted in nothing more than a bruised wrist and an increasingly frayed temper. From what she could hear, the party was still going strong; carriages would arrive at dawn for the last straggling revelers. He’d better not have left her to rejoin the party—
The door swung open and her head snapped up.
Raven bent and retrieved her slipper, then held it out to her like a peace offering. She accepted it with as haughty a look as she could manage while handcuffed to his bed.
“I’ll let you go if you promise you won’t try to escape.”
Heloise nodded enthusiastically. She held still as he released her wrist, judging the distance to the door as he removed the gag. Worth a go. She leaped forward.
He caught her around the waist with humiliating ease and lifted her off her feet while she kicked and thrashed. Her heel made contact with his shin and he growled, tightening his grip.
“Stop it!”
“No!”
“Stop it or I’ll throw you on that bed and show you just how much stronger I am.”
It was a good threat. Heloise stilled, breathing heavily. He loosened his grip slowly and lowered her to the floor.
“That’s better. Now, are you going to be sensible?”
She nodded meekly.