Heloise was not crying.
Two of Scovell’s men brought a hip bath full of hot water up to her room and she sank into it gratefully, washing herself with the rose-scented soap from her satchel. She scrubbed at her skin until not a single trace of the caves remained, then used the water to wash her dress as best she could. There was nothing she could do about the ripped front, but she draped it over the windowsill to dry and lay on the bed and closed her eyes.
She couldn’t relax. Her mind churned and her body felt restless and agitated. She had the niggling sense that something remained unfinished. She had to clear the air between them.
He’d saved her. From rape and possibly murder. She’d needed protection and he’d been there for her. Yes, he scared her, but who better to protect her than the most frightening man she’d ever met? Who better to keep her safe than the angel of death himself?
He wanted her, she was sure of it. It was there in the way he watched her when he thought she wasn’t looking. There in the way he simultaneously pulled her close and kept his distance. She knew his ways. He had some stupid chivalric idea that he wasn’t good enough for her. Every time he started to relax and open up he deliberately introduced some painful topic to give her a disgust of him, as if to remind them both how unsuitable he was for her. So wrongheaded. She was the only one for him.
Today he’d proved himself a killer, and yet she trusted him instinctively. She wanted to reach him. To show him he was more than he gave himself credit for.
Heloise let out a sigh and opened her eyes. He was her killer. She needed him. Wanted him, despite everything he’d done. She thought back to his admission in the cave, before they’d been interrupted. He’d thought of her while in prison. He cared for her. However much he wanted to deny it.
She stared at the damask canopy above her head. He was her protection, her strength and shield. She’d ride with him into whatever hell he chose to take her. She could have died today. Without ever taking what she wanted. Without ever admitting how she felt about him. Carpe Diem, Horace said. Seize the day, and put no faith in tomorrow.
It was time to stop being a coward.
She heard him return half an hour later, the echo of his boots in the room next door. Her dress was still soaking, so she simply slipped her shirt over her head. It was so big it reached almost to her knees. She didn’t bother with the breeches. The tiles were warm on her bare feet as she slipped out onto the balcony and opened the door to his room.
He was lying on the bed, dark hair in disarray, but sat up at her unexpected entry and glared at her. She watched him warily, unsure of his mood. Of her welcome.
He wasn’t wearing a shirt and for a moment she paused to take in the naked beauty of his chest, the flex of his forearms, the bulge of his biceps. She clasped her hands in front of her to stop herself reaching for all that luscious skin. He lowered his lashes and she stared at the bruises already forming on the side of his jaw, a dark red bruise starting to darken his ribs. A nasty slice, where a knife had caught him, marred his side. Her stomach lurched in guilt. He’d been hurt because of her stupidity.
He opened his mouth to speak but she forestalled his objection. “I’m sorry I went to the cave. I didn’t take your warnings seriously. I should have listened to you.”
“Yes, you should have,” he said sullenly.
“It was stupid.”
“Yes.”
“Thank you for rescuing me.” She risked a glance up at him.
“You’re welcome,” he growled. His jaw set tight and he lowered his brows moodily. “Now go back to bed.”
Heloise didn’t move, sure there was more to be said. Raven slid a slow glance along her body and she felt heat rise under her skin at his knowing look.
Raven swallowed. Bloody woman. He watched her take inventory of his injuries: the bruise that reddened his jaw; the cut over his ribs, not bad enough for stitches, but which caused a catch in his breath when he moved. It hurt like the devil.
She stood there in that damned oversize shirt, flesh rosy from her bath, little curls framing her face, and apologized to him? A wave of disbelief and remorse rolled over him. He wasn’t worthy to wipe her feet.
He had to make her leave. He knew just how to do it, just how to find a person’s weakness, a dubious talent he’d honed while questioning enemy operatives. He could frighten her, prey on her insecurities, say all the things perfectly calculated to wound her and drive her away.
“I’m not going to apologize, if that’s what you’ve come for. I’m not sorry for killing those men. I’m only sorry you had to see it. I hate that the violence has touched you.”
She just looked at him, unwavering. “I’m glad you did it. You saved my life.”
God, the way she was looking at him. Like he was some sort of savior. What was wrong with her? He’d warned her about the darkness in his soul. She’d seen firsthand proof of it this afternoon. Why did she still insist on seeing him in a positive light?
His lips twisted bitterly. “Grow up, Heloise. I’m not some knight in shining armor.”
She regarded him solemnly. “I know.”
“You’ve seen what I am. Killing’s all I can do.”
“No it’s not,” she whispered. “You’re loyal, and brave and fearless. You haven’t stopped searching for Kit for almost two years. You protect the people you love. You’ve kept me safe.”
He stared at her, his eyes burning. “I bring death, Heloise. And I enjoy it. You hear me? I like delivering justice, seeking vengeance. I like the fact that the last face they see in this world is mine.”
She moistened her lips with the tip of her tongue. His eyes followed the movement and the air in the room thickened with sudden awareness. “Stop looking at me like that,” he snarled.
She blinked. “Like what?”
“Like you want me inside you.”
She gasped at his crudity and he suddenly knew exactly how to get her to leave. He’d call her bluff. She might be foolish enough to imagine she still wanted him, but when it came right down to it she’d run. All he had to do was shock her sufficiently.
“You think I don’t know why you’re here?” His mouth twisted. “I’ve seen it a thousand times before. You’re restless and edgy and you don’t know why. Soldiers feel the same way after a battle. Let me explain it to you. You want sex. You want the confirmation of life to erase the smell of violent death still in your nose.”
Her eyes widened in shock. “That’s not why I came!”
His kept his expression cynical, faintly mocking. “It’s exactly why you came.”
He was off the bed and in front of her in three long strides, backing her up until she hit the bookshelf behind her. He placed his palms on either side of her head and stepped in, crowding her with his body. “I know, because I feel the same way.”
Her gaze flashed down to his crotch and her eyes widened as she took in the bulge of his arousal. Her eyes flew back to his, her lips parted in shock, and it was all he could do not to kiss the look off her face. With a stifled curse he caught her wrist and dragged it down between their bodies, forced her to feel the rigid length of him through the fabric of his breeches. She sucked in a breath as he curled her fingers around his shaft. He found it hard to breathe.
He leaned forward so his lips brushed her ear. “It’s lust. That’s all it is,” he managed hoarsely. “Nothing personal, just healthy bodies needing a release. The good news is, it’s easy to remedy. I can make it go away, Hellcat. You know I can. I can give you pleasure without taking your virginity. You know my reputation. Apart from killing, this is what I do best.”
There. That ought to do it. He’d reminded her of his other women, of his shocking character, and impressed upon her that this was pent-up tension, nothing more. She’d be disgusted. His heart hammered against his chest as he waited for her to pull away. Or slap him. “All you have to do is say yes,” he taunted, just for good measure.
She tilted her head back and looked him straight in the eye. Her fingers tightened around his shaft.
“Yes,” she breathed.
Raven’s head reeled. Yes? Was she insane? He pulled back, dislodging her hand, and stared at her in disbelief. “What?” he choked.
Her thunderstorm eyes didn’t waver from his. “I said, yes.”
He let out a shaky exhalation. “You don’t mean that, Hellcat.”
Her eyes narrowed dangerously. She lifted her chin. “Don’t tell me what I mean, Ravenwood.”
Oh God. He would have laughed if he hadn’t been so turned on. Had he really hoped to call her bluff? Heloise had never once done what he expected.
She put her hand on his chest and he realized he was breathing hard, as if he’d run a race. Her midnight-and-roses fragrance sneaked into his lungs and knotted his stomach, making it hard to think. The ferocious depth of his desire for her roared in his ears. She moistened her lip with the tip of her tongue and his cock throbbed in response.
He couldn’t take her. That would be a monumental mistake, a line he’d sworn never to cross. But the vital distance he needed to maintain had been swept away by the violence at the caves and his stupid confession. Hell, he might as well have told her he loved her. He growled low in his throat, breath hissing out between his teeth, his entire body taut with exquisite tension.
Why couldn’t he give her what she wanted? He needed her, with a blind, driving lust that blotted out almost everything else. He could pleasure her and preserve her virginity, though the effort might actually kill him.
This was all he had to give. She had his heart, but he could never offer her marriage, permanence. Still, he could give her his body, his expertise; sweet, perfect satisfaction. And he could steal this one, brief selfish moment for himself.
“You trust me?” he asked hoarsely.
She nodded.
He closed his eyes in defeat. They’d been coming to this moment for years. And while it was all new to her, he had a wealth of experience. His every sexual encounter had been in preparation for this, every other woman a poor substitute for the one in his arms. He smiled in fierce satisfaction. Oh, yes. This was what he was good at. What he loved. He’d make it so good she’d forget her own name.
Heloise couldn’t believe what Raven had just offered. Or that she’d actually accepted.
Oh God. When she’d teased him at the ball about taking him as her lover she’d never imagined he’d actually propose it in truth. Her heart hammered, even as a thrilling rush of physical desire mingled with the panic. Would he really go through with it? Would she? She’d never wanted anything more in her life.
His bare chest was mere inches from hers, his skin heated under her palm. The steady thud of his heart pulsed beneath her fingertips. She brought her other hand up and circled his biceps; her fingers barely curled halfway around it. Her body tingled.
The look he gave her was so direct, so predatory, she felt it in the pit of her stomach and the tips of her breasts. She stared up at him, trembling. He leaned forward and his beard-stubbled cheek rasped against her skin like fine sandpaper.
His voice was a low, hoarse whisper in her ear. “I’m going to use my mouth on you, Hellcat. And my hands. Until you scream with pleasure.”
She gasped as he bit her earlobe then pressed his lips against the small cut on her throat where the assailant’s knife had been; he soothed the sting with a flick of his tongue. He moved lower and she thought he would go to her breasts next, but instead he dropped to his knees in front of her. His hands caught her hips and he rested his forehead against the curve of her stomach, almost as if he were saying penance.
Heloise froze in astonishment. The warmth of his breath through the thin fabric of her shirt sent shivers of excitement racing through her. Her hands went automatically to his head and she tangled her fingers in his hair.
He turned his head and pressed an openmouthed kiss against her stomach, then another, lower down. A throbbing ache started between her legs. His hands moved from her hips and cupped her bottom, then slid down the back of her thighs and up again, underneath the shirt. The feel of him on her naked skin was astonishing.
The muscles in his shoulders rippled as he lowered his head and pressed a gentle kiss to the inside of her leg, just above her knee. Her legs turned to water. His lips trailed upward, to the soft skin of her inner thigh, and Heloise squirmed in embarrassment as she realized his destination. Slick heat bloomed between her legs but she clutched at his shoulders, trying to push him off.
“You can’t!” she gasped.
She felt his deep sigh, the rasp of his faint stubble against her thigh as he glanced up at her, his expression both exasperated and wicked. “You seem to be forgetting which one of us is the expert.”
His voice was teasing, but there was a roughness there, too, as if he was having difficulty holding himself in check. A flush stretched over his high cheekbones. “Now, if I want advice on code-breaking, or things of a linguistic nature,” he kissed her thigh again and she sucked in a breath, “I’ll ask you, the expert.” He swirled his tongue and edged higher. “But when it comes to this, and what we should or shouldn’t be doing, I’m afraid, Miss Hampden, you have no opinion whatsoever.”
She shuddered. Her heart was beating so hard in her throat she thought she might pass out.
“Open your legs for me, Hellcat.”
Shaking with desire, Heloise widened her stance even as her cheeks flamed in mortification. Cool air touched her most feminine place. She was completely bare to his gaze. For a long moment he simply looked at her and she tensed, anticipating some taunt.
His hands caught her hips. “Oh God, you’re beautiful.” His voice was hoarse, reverent.
He leaned forward and put his mouth between her legs.
Heloise jerked in astonishment and bit back a cry. He was kissing her, there! All she could feel was his wicked tongue, the erotic scrape of his chin and mouth as he lapped her. He found the slick petals at the entrance to her body and parted them, sliding in the betraying wetness. Good God!
It was like nothing she’d ever imagined. Heloise tightened her fingers in his hair and arched into his touch, urging him on, unable to help herself, past shame. For whatever reason she’d broken through his self-imposed ban on touching her and she wanted this, wanted him, in any way she could have him. She’d take whatever he chose to give.
“You taste so good.” His growl of satisfaction held a fierce note of triumph.
Heloise could barely think. She let go of his head and gripped the edge of the bookshelves for balance as he teased her sensitive flesh with his lips. She gasped as she felt his finger, just the very tip, push inside her. He withdrew and pressed again, easier this time, and she cried out at the unbelievable sensation.
She couldn’t draw enough air into her lungs. She arched against him but he held her tight, only his hand moving, teasing. He flicked her with his tongue and Heloise almost sobbed in frustration. She was striving to get somewhere, some unnamed peak just out of reach. She held her breath.
A shimmer of pleasure danced along her skin. Her body was on fire, her heart racing, and she bucked her hips, trying to get closer to the maddening friction. His tongue invaded her, mimicking the action of his hand and the brief penetration was almost more than she could bear.
Perhaps he was right? Maybe this was only lust. Maybe she’d feel this way for any man. She doubted it, but it was hard to think when his fingers worked their magic, made her burn and melt and writhe.
“Let it go, Heloise. Come for me. Now.”
She had no idea what he was talking about, but she was almost there, almost there, and the combination of his voice and those wicked fingers sent her flying over the edge. Blinding pleasure radiated from her core as she splintered apart. Her whole body convulsed, clenching and releasing around his fingers as she gasped for air, blinded, falling, dying.
She sagged, boneless, against the wall and would have sunk to the floor if not for Raven’s support. He stood and wrapped his arms around her, enclosing her in his embrace. Dazed, Heloise rested her head back on the shelf. Her heart was hammering against her ribs, her skin was flushed. For a few seconds all she could hear was labored panting—Raven’s as loud as her own.
She started to pull away but he tightened his arms and buried his face in her hair. She tensed as she realized he was still fiercely aroused. His shaft pressed hard and unyielding against her stomach.
“Wait,” he panted. He let out a half laugh that sounded ragged, almost desperate. “Don’t move just yet, all right? Just…give me a minute.”
She stilled, let herself soften and relax in his embrace. Her mind was still reeling from what they had done. After a few moments Raven moved back from her. The shirt fell demurely back into place against her legs with a whisper of cool air.
She was burning up with embarrassment, but pride demanded that she lift her chin and meet his eyes. She wanted to say something flippant, witty, but she was too shattered, too raw. Words, her fail-safe friends, deserted her.
Raven let out a long sigh. He studied her face for a long moment, opened his mouth to say something, then closed it again. She didn’t struggle when he gathered her up in his arms and carried her back to her own room. He lay her down on her mattress and left her without a word.