cannot kiss here. You are not wearing any clothes.”
He laughed at that. “True.” He released her and bowed. “Come back to my home with me. Let me keep you safe.”
“But what am I going to do? I mean, from now on. I cannot live like this.”
He kissed the top of her head. He was naked because he had changed into bat form and had flown to her rescue. It had been a closer shave than he’d planned.
“There is a solution, Lady Ophelia,” he said softly. “You can give up your power. You can give it to me. But—”
“But?”
“You will have to come with me, where you will be safe. Then I will explain. Are you willing, Lady Ophelia?”
“Do I have a choice?”
“Yes, you do. You can run away from me now.”
“And risk getting shot by more of those lunatic men. Or I can trust you. I choose you. I will go home with you.”
5
The Bookstore
T he door closed behind her, Ravenhunt turned the key in the lock, and Ophelia faced him, knowing she had willingly stepped into her prison. Now she would find out if she had been wrong to believe him.
“How do I give you my power? Why in heaven’s name would you want it?”
He led her to the dining room. The forgotten supper was cold, but he handed her a crystal goblet brimming with white wine. She sipped, for he seemed to be waiting for her to drink. When she paused, he motioned with his hand for her to drink more.
She frowned. “Why do you want me to be tipsy before you tell me?”
“You are remarkable. You were just attacked by men of the Royal Society, and yet you are flinty-eyed and calm with me.”
“You are avoiding the question.”
“You are a worthy adversary, Lady Ophelia. But I want you to understand we aren’t fighting anymore.” He pointed to the door. “You are free to go whenever you wish.”
“I don’t wish to right now.”
He plucked her glass from her hand and filled it again.
“Why do you want my power, Ravenhunt? Is it because you are an assassin?”
“I don’t want to use it, love. It is my plan to destroy the power so no one can use it. Only I can do that, and I have to take it from you to do it.”
She took another sip of the wine. It was dry and tart and delectable. His words did make sense. She could be free of the power. And it would never hurt anyone else—
He lifted her hand to his lips as she drank a little more of the tempting wine. He brushed her fingers with a gentle kiss, then turned her hand and gave a long, lingering kiss in her palm.
Tendrils of smoke rose, and she snatched her hand back.
“To take your power, Lady Ophelia, I have to make love to you.”
“You have to do
what?
”
Ravenhunt dropped to his knees before her. He pushed up her skirts, exposing her stocking-clad legs, then the silk of her garters, the bare skin of her thighs.
In her shock, the wineglass tipped in her hand, the golden liquid splattering on his head. He just shook his hair. With her skirts bunched up and captured in place by his hands, he pulled her toward his face.
“What are you doing?” she cried.
He pressed his lips to her belly, just above her private place. His eyes were closed, his thick lashes touching his cheeks. He groaned with pleasure. She still had her shift covering her, but what he was doing was scandalous.
She tried to push him away. “Stop it. You are making this up. How could I give you my curse—my power, as you call it—by making love to you?”
This must be a ploy to fool her into surrendering her innocence, to get her into his bed. Why he would want to do such a thing, she couldn’t imagine. She had burned his mouth, and smoke had risen from his lips when he kissed her hand. What was wrong with this madman that he would want to kill himself just to get her into his bed?
Beneath arched brows, his dark eyes reflected candlelight at her. “I can’t explain exactly how it works, but I was assured by experts that it would.”
She had to admit he looked innocently at her, as if speaking the
He laughed at that. “True.” He released her and bowed. “Come back to my home with me. Let me keep you safe.”
“But what am I going to do? I mean, from now on. I cannot live like this.”
He kissed the top of her head. He was naked because he had changed into bat form and had flown to her rescue. It had been a closer shave than he’d planned.
“There is a solution, Lady Ophelia,” he said softly. “You can give up your power. You can give it to me. But—”
“But?”
“You will have to come with me, where you will be safe. Then I will explain. Are you willing, Lady Ophelia?”
“Do I have a choice?”
“Yes, you do. You can run away from me now.”
“And risk getting shot by more of those lunatic men. Or I can trust you. I choose you. I will go home with you.”
5
The Bookstore
T he door closed behind her, Ravenhunt turned the key in the lock, and Ophelia faced him, knowing she had willingly stepped into her prison. Now she would find out if she had been wrong to believe him.
“How do I give you my power? Why in heaven’s name would you want it?”
He led her to the dining room. The forgotten supper was cold, but he handed her a crystal goblet brimming with white wine. She sipped, for he seemed to be waiting for her to drink. When she paused, he motioned with his hand for her to drink more.
She frowned. “Why do you want me to be tipsy before you tell me?”
“You are remarkable. You were just attacked by men of the Royal Society, and yet you are flinty-eyed and calm with me.”
“You are avoiding the question.”
“You are a worthy adversary, Lady Ophelia. But I want you to understand we aren’t fighting anymore.” He pointed to the door. “You are free to go whenever you wish.”
“I don’t wish to right now.”
He plucked her glass from her hand and filled it again.
“Why do you want my power, Ravenhunt? Is it because you are an assassin?”
“I don’t want to use it, love. It is my plan to destroy the power so no one can use it. Only I can do that, and I have to take it from you to do it.”
She took another sip of the wine. It was dry and tart and delectable. His words did make sense. She could be free of the power. And it would never hurt anyone else—
He lifted her hand to his lips as she drank a little more of the tempting wine. He brushed her fingers with a gentle kiss, then turned her hand and gave a long, lingering kiss in her palm.
Tendrils of smoke rose, and she snatched her hand back.
“To take your power, Lady Ophelia, I have to make love to you.”
“You have to do
what?
”
Ravenhunt dropped to his knees before her. He pushed up her skirts, exposing her stocking-clad legs, then the silk of her garters, the bare skin of her thighs.
In her shock, the wineglass tipped in her hand, the golden liquid splattering on his head. He just shook his hair. With her skirts bunched up and captured in place by his hands, he pulled her toward his face.
“What are you doing?” she cried.
He pressed his lips to her belly, just above her private place. His eyes were closed, his thick lashes touching his cheeks. He groaned with pleasure. She still had her shift covering her, but what he was doing was scandalous.
She tried to push him away. “Stop it. You are making this up. How could I give you my curse—my power, as you call it—by making love to you?”
This must be a ploy to fool her into surrendering her innocence, to get her into his bed. Why he would want to do such a thing, she couldn’t imagine. She had burned his mouth, and smoke had risen from his lips when he kissed her hand. What was wrong with this madman that he would want to kill himself just to get her into his bed?
Beneath arched brows, his dark eyes reflected candlelight at her. “I can’t explain exactly how it works, but I was assured by experts that it would.”
She had to admit he looked innocently at her, as if speaking the
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