As for his meddling wife…she’d brazenly disregarded his wishes. Kell’s gaze settled upon Raven as she stood with her duke at the hazard table.
Her duke.
His rival.
Kell clenched his fists, jealousy an unexpectedly fierce emotion inside him. As much as he despised admitting it, the sight of them so close together fired every possessive male instinct in his blood-and stirred unwanted images in his mind as well of Raven surrendering to her lover.
It made his blood boil to think of his aristocratic rival touching his wife, enjoying her lovely body, caressing her full, ripe breasts, her long, slender legs. Hell and damnation, he wanted to be the one suckling her rose-hued nipples, stroking her creamy ivory skin, so velvet smooth beneath his hands…
The very thought made his loins ache.
Cursing again, Kell turned away. He had to get hold of himself before he became no better than his brother, filled with lust and insane jealousy, ready to do battle for the tempting Raven Kendrick.
As she absently watched the gaming, Raven was highly aware of her husband’s brooding gaze surveying the crowd. Kell stood to one side, seeming alone even in a room full of people. A breed apart. A rebel.
His smoldering intensity only added to his appearance of isolation, as did the scar that marred the chiseled perfection of his face.
It was no wonder he was considered an outcast, she thought, remembering his almost grudging acceptance of the duke’s apology. Polite society didn’t take kindly to a man who showed so little deference to their rules, and Kell seemed to relish his defiant, black-sheep image.
Raven found it impossible to keep her glance from him. He was remote, enigmatic, notorious. And she was more drawn to him than any man she had ever known.
Was it because at heart, she was something of a black sheep herself? Because she understood what it meant to be alone? Or was it because Kell didn’t want her? Because he was eminently capable of resisting her charms? Or perhaps it was the lure of forbidden danger that she found so potent.
From their first moment together, she’d felt that perilous pull to danger, the breathless thrill of walking a cliff edge. A primal threat that only stirred the restlessness inside her…
Raven shivered. How could she be so enticed by a man who made her feel this vulnerable? So fiercely attracted to one who didn’t need or want her?
Casting another glance at Kell, she suddenly stiffened. Emma Walsh had joined him as he stood on the sidelines. Seeing them with their heads close together aroused a hot sting of jealousy within Raven.
She scarcely noticed when Dare came up to her.
He followed her narrowed gaze for a moment, then said in an amused drawl, “If I were Miss Walsh, I would take great care. You look as if you want to scratch her eyes out.”
Pressing her lips together, Raven dragged her thoughts away from her irksome husband and his beautiful mistress and focused her attention on the marquess. “Have you just now arrived?”
“Yes. I had a prior engagement. A pity,” Dare remarked. “I hear I missed all the excitement. Word has already flown around town about Halford’s public apology. I suppose you orchestrated it?”
“I only asked him to make an appearance here. Halford did the rest.”
“I should have thought your husband would be more pleased.”
“Not Kell,” Raven muttered. “He considers the duke’s gesture charity.”
“Well, a man has his pride. But even so, Lasseter should be grateful to you.”
“He wants nothing to do with me.”
At her morose tone, Dare gave her an assessing look. “And it disturbs you that your husband’s amorous interests lie elsewhere?”
Raven averted her gaze from Dare’s knowing one. “I shouldn’t allow myself to be disturbed, I know. Ours was merely a marriage of convenience. He has every right to keep a mistress, or an entire harem, if he wishes.”
“You could change the situation, puss. I have no doubt you could have Lasseter fawning at your feet if you chose to.”
The image was an appealing one, Raven admitted to herself. She cast Kell another glance. He was watching her intently now, with those dark eyes that could hold her spellbound. Yet there was a decided coolness to his features, even disapproval, Raven noted. Perhaps he didn’t like her associating with the Marquess of Wolverton any more than she liked her husband dallying openly with his mistress.
Forcing her gaze away, she gave Dare a deliberate smile. “I suppose I should apply to you for advice. No doubt the Prince of Pleasure could instruct me on how to keep a philandering husband from straying.”
He laughed. “You don’t need instruction on how to secure a man’s attention. You had half the males in London swooning over you last Season.”