Chapter Fifteen

Raven realized that with her remark about his being a connoisseur of fine jewelry, Samantha accepted the assumption the elegant necklace now became a farewell present to Louise Buxton. He shook his head and said, “I don’t wish to discuss this subject. It’s most inappropriate to all the concerned parties, and that includes Lady Buxton. A true gentleman would never discuss his mistress with another woman. That ends the topic.”

“No, Raven. “There is something that needs clarification. “I won’t be your mistress if that’s what you asked. I wonder what I’ve said or done to make you think I might accept such a proposition. True, I’ve flirted with you, but one thousand pounds doesn’t buy you a courtesan. There’s much you don’t know about me. I’m not always what I seem, and I’m certain I’m not predictable.”

Raven responded with grace and ease. “First, Samantha, mistresses cost more than a mere thousand pounds. They’re quite an extravagance.” He placed his right hand on his temple in a gesture. “Why are you so fascinated with mistresses? Pray tell, why mine?”

“I’m jealous,” was her honest answer.

Raven’s full brows arched. “I’m astounded and flattered, but…”

That is the problem,” she responded. “But?”

“In truth, there is nothing about which to be jealous. In fact, in some ways, it pleases me. Jealousy is a strong emotion. Samantha, I am here with you because it is my choice. Your admission confounds me.”

She lowered her eyes, and then gazed into his, and sighed. “That makes two of us who are confounded.”

He changed the damned subject. “Samantha, I know you are a fraud.”

Her hand went to her breast. “Explain yourself, Raven.”

She appeared about to panic. His thoughts whirled. What fear captured her? What did she hide? Women were famous for their secrets, but hers caused her breathing to race. What mystery surrounded her? Raven continued nonetheless, “You claim to be a non-conformist, yet you spend your life in an attempt to conform and observe all the proprieties even though you know that widow status allows you privilege.”

Aware she listened with intent, her expression seemed to belie any thoughts she might have.

“You say you are not a reformist, yet you espouse female causes with a passion you know could enrage lesser men. You’re vulnerable, and yet you pretend to be just the opposite. You also support issues contrary to normal female pursuits.”

“Is that what you think of me?” Her forehead furrowed.

“I think you are an excitement that goes beyond your beauty. One thing, you’re not shallow. There is a tender heart in your body. It would flatter if you became less haughty with me. I want to see and experience the heat of your words, but in other more pleasurable endeavors if you would but let me.”

And with that remark, he kissed her again and plundered to his heart’s content. He pulled back a moment to survey the lushness of the lady’s lips. Curved vertical lines gave texture to their surface, like valleys that reflected light. The fullness of her lips, swollen from his attention, invited further discovery. Raven became lost in the moment of who he wanted to become—her lover.

Samantha’s mind turned to mush. Lord Percival never kissed like that. Raven’s kisses were glorious and transported her to another realm of wonder. It was a once-upon-a-life-time moment. Her head reeled, and what was the tingle that climbed up her spine? Could it be the champagne? It must be him. She thought herself possessed. Samantha didn’t recognize the elusive emotion that overcame her when she was this close to him. Passion, lust, sensuality and sexuality. Were they all one, and she couldn’t tell one from the other. Well, maybe, if she determined the amount of heat he brought out in her. She wanted to run because she was afraid of what he unleashed in her. Damn her inexperience.

He reached for her hand and kissed it tenderly. A thousand blinding thoughts raced through her head. She also wanted to respond to his advances and liked the way he could excite her and makes her legs wobbly and weak. Of a sudden, a sensation caused turmoil in her nether region, which seemed to liquefy. She needed to know what this liquid heat meant. Who could explain why her body reacted so? Was there a book she could read? Heaven help her.

She was an inexperienced woman who masqueraded and played with a man who knew the quickened emotions of passion. Did he expect her to know the myriad aspects of bed sport? Heaven had better help her. Could she seduce if she didn’t know how?

The possibility existed in her mind that she enjoyed her time with him and wanted to see more of the powerful Raven. No doubt, he was a man, all feral, virile, and temptingly available. It was too late. Heaven couldn’t help her now.

“I want to embrace you and hold you near, Raven.” She spoke without a care of chosen words. It seemed to spew from the raging inferno in her belly. Her arms became wings. She reached around his neck, placed her body against his, and the heat surged through her as if he had penetrated her veins with his own desire while her breasts lay nestled against his massive chest. All of these feelings were new, strange and heady.

Oh, my, for certain they were hard to bridle. Could it be a sin to have this urge to mold with his body, clothes be damned? No, but it overwhelmed every normal thought and need. Damn desire, she didn’t know how to handle this emotion that left her hungry and breathless for more of him.

“It’s fantastic. Something new and strange has overwhelmed me. I can’t breathe, yet I do.” She responded to the feral magnetism he emanated. At this moment, she knew what he could mean to her. Oh, sweet heaven.

Never, ever, did such urges and anticipation flow through every pore of her body, inch by inch, moment by moment, pulse beat by pulse beat. Sensation upon sensation lifted her to romantic heights. She could tell he responded likewise. This might be unconventional, but her widow status did allow slight deviations. When she was in his arms like this, indiscretions were not only invited, but responded to in a wanton way. Such actions could cause a major scandal. Yet his kisses and the passion they generated warned her of excitement and danger. Nevertheless, she withdrew her arms, conscious of the fact she didn’t know what to do next.

“I want…want something.” Her cheeks burned, and she wasn’t sure why. She just experienced passion, desire, and lust, but where was love? Samantha averted her gaze, embarrassed and blinded by the unfamiliar emotions. The act of speech made her feel better and in control, but a floodtide of words emanated from her with a specific aim at him. She meant to keep her composure. Samantha stepped away from him once again, took his arm for strength to steady her.

She questioned her morality. Was this what it was like to be decadent and wanton? The return to their table eased her discomfiture. A servant evidently repacked the basket and cleared the table. The champagne and wine remained available for their further enjoyment. His dark eyes pierced her.

Raven sat her at the table, lowered his head to whisper in her ear. “Do you have some secret you wish to share with me?” His breath on her ear simmered with latent desire. She again enjoyed the tickle of the warm lips that caressed her ear.

Samantha shuddered. “I have secrets, Raven, as does any woman. However, I don’t wish to share them with you just yet.” She avoided his dark coal eyes by closing hers. She wanted to laugh a moment when she realized all she experienced had been with her body fully clothed. “More’s the pity.”

Made aware of her shiver, Raven wondered if the secret caused her body’s reaction and how badly it affected her. To him, she remained incomprehensible, incomparable and irresistible. Samantha invoked the pent up passion he stored away in some recess of his mind and body never to resurrect. Because without the mind, there can be none in the body. Without passion, there can be no love and conversely. Now he sounded like Samantha.

What insanity.

He recalled her words, “I want…want something.” Did she know to what she inferred when she spoke the provocative phrase? Did she want him as much as he wanted her?

“Are you chilled? You shivered. Or is it that you find me unattractive?” He couldn’t be sure of what the woman would answer. This mysterious female intrigued him to distraction. He had to have her completely. The sooner the better. Her eyes invited, but her words didn’t.

“Let me clarify further about a subject that obsesses you. I don’t want you as a mistress, Samantha. I apologize if you misunderstood. You’re a widow used to the pleasures of a man. I just thought to get to know you in a more intimate manner. What just occurred to us was an indication of things to come.” He placed his gloves in his hat and rested it on the table.

“You’re supposed to answer, Samantha.” He realized his vulnerability, yet asked, “Is your silence your answer?”

“No, Raven,” she blurted. “You confuse me when you talk about intimate moments.”

He nodded as her expression changed. Raven acquiesced with a soft grin. His gut wrenched into a fiery chasm. “There should be no confusion. You mention intimate moments, too. Is that an invitation?” His smile meant to devour her, lick by lick.

She answered simply, “I don’t know.”

Instinct told him she wanted to share her secret, whatever it was, but that caution held her back. A question invaded. Was it Samantha he wanted, or did he want to resurrect his precious Liana through reincarnation? The dilemma caused him to contemplate. He’d never know. This relationship needed time to ponder—grow—ripen—harvest—or die. No, he didn’t want anything between them to die. He wanted to soar like an eagle with her by his side, not in his talons.

“Do you like games of chance, Raven?” she asked.

“Yes, though I don’t wager unless the stakes are worth the effort.” He fingered his monocle in order to regain his usual control.

Samantha murmured, “It could be if you play your cards right. You do play cards, Raven?” One eyebrow arched in mischief. Her siren voice was a sultry invitation, again.

“Indeed, I do. And I’m a winner more than not.”

“Cards are a game of chance, aren’t they? I like to win, too.”

“Does that mean you have a specific wager in mind?” He would play this game with her.

“I do, but I won’t tell you now. Perhaps later when the stakes are higher,” she mocked with a sly smile.

“I play for high limits. You know that, don’t you?” His manner became playful.

“Of course, I’ll raise the ante when ready.”

Raven became amused and interested in her game. Two could play at it.

All of a sudden, her words assailed him. “Raven, you make me feel desirable, female and molten—too hot to touch and ready to scorch. Are you willing to be incinerated?”

A truly wicked smile curled the corners of his mouth. “Ah, your words fall on welcome ears. Yes, we’ve demonstrated the chemistry between us blazes. And if I answer your question affirmatively?” He tested her.

“I would do one of three things—set you afire, douse you with ice water, or swoon in your arms, if you promised to catch me.”

His laughter riddled the air. “I promise, in all honor, to catch you. Is our truce over yet?” Oh, they could be a glorious couple. Patience was not a virtue he held in high supply.

“Not to my knowledge. Did it ever begin?”

He surveyed the almost empty tables and the woman in front of him. Ah, a surge of strong wills coursed through their conversation. His loins screamed in need.

“Perhaps it’s best if we now went back to your family. Much to my regret, this time has been too short. I shall prepare myself for future incineration.”

“Raven, I, too, look forward to the event as long as I can join you to the sun and back.” Her hand covered her throat, and she sighed. “Thank you for your assistance today. I won’t forget your kindness.” She placed her ungloved fingers on his, and for a short moment, caressed his. “It is my hope you understand what I can’t seem to say,” she said in a sultry whisper. “You have a sly naughty smile, Raven.”

Encouraged, he kissed her palm.

A maiden would never remove her gloves since it would be a distinct lack of propriety. Propriety be damned. She didn’t give two half-pennies for that lack. Samantha engaged his eyes and smiled in invitation. Would he accept?

Her body tightened at the immense power of sensuality. She was ready to ride off with him on his black charger away to a fairy tale castle. Of necessity, she returned to the harsh reality of no more magic moments. They were gone with the sultry wind. She fidgeted from one foot to the other. They rejoined the family.

Aunt Minerva smiled at them. “Samantha, my dear. What a success this has been. You will have enough funds to support the school for at least two years.” Her aunt looked to Raven. “Between now and then we can devise some other event which will assist our young ladies. Perhaps His Grace will have some suggestions for us. It’s always nice to get the opinion of other learned people. Above all, those ready to part with hard earned blunt.”

Samantha exhaled, then inhaled, the oxygen cooling her. “This is such good news, Aunt Min. I’m ecstatic at the results.” She tilted her chin to Raven, and gazed longingly at him, and then back again to her aunt. “Aunt Min, but how can I thank you for your help and support in all of this because without you, it wouldn’t have been possible.” She embraced her aunt. Her words poured forth, “Does the headmistress know? It concerned her, I’m sure.”

Schoolmistresses were a novelty in these times, but Samantha wouldn’t have it any other way. Having a woman to teach other women, one who understood with female emotion and education, was a criterion essential.

“I’ve sent word to her, Samantha, since you seemed preoccupied.” Lady Minerva addressed Raven with humor in her tone, “Good show, Your Grace, we are indebted to your generosity to us. You gave that upstart, Lord Dudley, a comeuppance. Bravo.” She took Samantha’s arm. “I’m about to steal my niece away. We shall meet you gentlemen in the ballroom at the Assembly Hall. There are hired carriages to transport the ladies. There will be waltzes and refreshments for our further pleasure.”

Lady Minerva strode away with Samantha in hand. “Precious child, are you all right? You look besotted. I tried to keep a wary eye on you both. I could see his back, and you were encased in his embrace.” Her words faded off almost too soft to hear.

“Aunt Min, do you attempt to ask if he kissed me?” She winked at her.

“I hope he did. You’re beautiful. Why wouldn’t he?” They laughed. “I hope you returned the gesture. It’s more of excitement that way. Besides, dear one, he thinks you’re an experienced woman.”

“Yes, I know. Raven has taught me more than I ever knew already, but it’s all a novelty. “I love you, Aunt Min.” She gifted a magnificent smile. Samantha turned around to see their two gentlemen in good-hearted conversation.

“He did admire my emerald,” she said in mischief to her aunt. “And my bosom.”

“As long as he didn’t touch, it will add to your education to the ways of men, my dear.” Lady Minerva smiled like a wily she-wolf.

Samantha gazed over her aunt’s shoulder and wondered about a man leaning against a tree. The man wrote into a small pad of parchment. He looked away and then returned to his notes.

Who was he and was he a friend or enemy? If a foe, what evil intent did he have? And who was the victim?