Heloise took a deep, calming breath.
Raven, sensible devil, took a few more steps back—well out of kicking range—and regarded her with a distinctly self-satisfied air, arms crossed, legs apart like a pirate surveying a ship full of treasure. She gave her wrist an experimental tug. The cuff rattled against the wooden bedpost and scraped uncomfortably against her skin but didn’t give an inch.
“No point struggling.” Raven grinned cheerfully. “That post is the best Cuban mahogany.” He held up a small metal key, tucked it into the breast pocket of his waistcoat, and patted it.
Heloise strove for a reasonable tone. “This is completely unnecessary. Let me go.”
His obnoxious smile widened. “Can’t, I’m afraid.” He leaned back against the wall, all long and lean and supremely relaxed. Bastard.
He shrugged. “I can’t let you go home. I promised Castlereagh I’d keep an eye on you until we find out who killed Edward. Don’t glare at me like that, Hellcat. I care more about your safety than your good opinion.”
She rattled her wrist. “It never occurred to you to simply explain and ask me to stay? No, of course not. You boys always prefer the dramatic physical gesture over intelligent diplomacy. This is kidnapping!”
“Tsk. ‘Kidnapping’ is such a strong word. Let’s call it ‘protective custody.’ ”
“Calling it something else doesn’t alter the facts.”
The corners of his eyes crinkled.
“You think this is amusing? Let me tell you, Ravenwood, you’re as funny as a toothache.”
“It’s for your own good. Think of me as your bodyguard.”
She folded her arms across her chest. At least she tried to, but her right arm was pulled up short by the handcuffs. She gave a frustrated growl. “I’m perfectly capable of guarding my own body, thank you very much.”
His gaze turned wicked and his eyes flickered down the length of her in a leisurely perusal that somehow seemed more intimate than a caress. Heat rose in her cheeks.
“Ah, but I’ll do a much better job.”
She didn’t even want to think about how the man had such easy access to a pair of handcuffs. In his bedroom, of all places. Her skin prickled. As if he’d read her mind, his eyes took on a wicked glint. “You know, some people like to be restrained.”
“Do you?” she fumed, then bit her tongue. Antagonizing him was not going to help matters.
He laughed. “God no, I’ve had more than enough imprisonment for one lifetime, thank you. No one will ever control me like that again.”
“Yet now you’re the one imprisoning someone.”
Raven inclined his head. “The irony’s not lost on me. But I’ve always found it easier to ask for forgiveness than permission.”
He sent her a mock-evil leer. “Having you so completely in my power, Miss Hampden, is a heady prospect. You should be glad I’m such a gentleman.”
“Really?” Heloise allowed her sarcasm full rein. “I should thank you for shackling me to a bed?”
“No. But you should be grateful I’m not taking advantage of the situation. A more unscrupulous man might.”
“Ha! You have the scruples of an alley cat. My brothers will kill you when they find out about this.”
“I doubt it. They’ll probably applaud. What do you think I’m going to do? Molest you?”
Heloise flushed. Of course he wouldn’t. He didn’t truly desire her, despite what had happened in the orangery. He’d simply been trying to embarrass her, or frighten her off, and she…well, she’d chalk it up to a champagne-fueled aberration. One she had absolutely no intention of repeating.
She gave an inward sigh. If she were any other woman, he’d probably be seducing her into exhausted acquiescence right now. And curse it, even as annoyed with him as she was, a part of her—the very stupid, brainless, part—wished she were one of those other women.
Raven must have interpreted her silence as uncertainty, however, because his expression darkened. “Don’t worry, you’re perfectly safe with me,” he growled. “Christ, you don’t really think I’d hurt you, do you?”
Heloise shrugged. “So what do you propose to do now?”
“Tonight’s attempt to kill you failed, but I can guarantee that whoever it was will try again.”
A cold wash of fear skittered down her spine as the truth of what he was saying began to register, but she shook her head.
“You disagree?” he said silkily.
“Of course I disagree. If I ever find myself agreeing with you, Ravenwood, I’ll need a moment to sit down and recover. We don’t know I was definitely the target. What if you’re wrong? What if you were the target? If that’s the case, I’ll be in more danger with you than if I leave.”
“You’re staying with me.” He forestalled her argument with a raised hand and glanced over at the clock. “How many languages do you speak?”
She narrowed her eyes. “A few. Why?” His expression immediately made her want to defend herself. “What? Maman is French and Father’s English, so I learned those two from the cradle.”
“Which others?”
“Greek, Latin, Italian.”
“Can you be pleasant in any of them?”
“You are such a—”
“Apparently not.” He sighed wistfully. “Any Spanish?”
“No.”
“Pity. Because you’re coming to Spain with me. We’ll leave at high tide.”