Spellbound by Jaimey Grant Page B

Greyden.
    “What do you want?” she
asked unnecessarily.
    The young lord favored
Raven with a malevolent look. “I know you are my brother’s whore
just as you were the whore for half the aristocracy. It is only
fair that I have a sample of your wares.”
    She almost laughed. If only
he knew exactly what his brother had gotten from her. She’d be only
too pleased to show the annoying Greyden precisely what that
was.
    Raven allowed her dislike
to show. “I will never allow you to touch me, Lord
Greyden.”
    “It will be rape then? How
entertaining,” mused the young man with a sneer. “Tell me, Swan, is
it possible to rape a whore?”
    Raven saw his point. Unless
someone cared enough to complain or interfere, it would not be
rape. It happened all the time and even Raven wasn’t sure that
Tristan cared enough to interfere. Greyden was his brother after
all.
    She took a step back. She
would NOT beg him to leave her be. She would, however, defend
herself, the consequences be damned. Reaching behind her, she
grasped the first object that came to hand. She was inwardly
relieved it was a heavy silver candlestick and not something
completely useless like her hairbrush.
    Something in her manner
must have given her away. Greyden suddenly leapt at her. Her
struggle lasted only moments and she was quickly unarmed. He tossed
the weapon away, retaining his hold on her.
    Backing her slowly towards
her bed, he snarled, “You have been a thorn in my side since the
day I met you. It is time you learned your place.”
    “Considering how you loathe
me, I am surprised you can find the inclination to bed me,” she
snapped back.
    “I do not deny your beauty,
Ebony Swan. No man with eyes could look upon you and not desire
you. I object to your superiority.”
    With that, he gave an
almighty push and sent her sprawling across the bed. He immediately
followed her, pressing her down into the feather
ticking.
    Her look of surprise at his
statement didn’t seem to register. Had she really behaved towards
him as if she were better than he was?
    She struggled to free her
hands from behind her back. He was slightly preoccupied with
tearing at the bodice of her gown. She managed to free her left
hand and swung wildly at his head. She caught him on the ear and he
howled in shock and pain but, unlike Tristan, he did not ease up on
her. Instead, he grabbed her flailing arm with one hand and wrapped
the other tightly around her throat. He squeezed until blackness
welled up before her, threatening to take her under.
    Desperately, she choked
out, “Wife.”
    It was barely a whisper of
sound but it succeeded in loosening his stranglehold. “What did you
say?” he demanded.
    “Your wife,” she whispered
around the pain in her throat. “Lily. What of Lily?”
    He came off her suddenly,
springing halfway across the vast room. He stared at her as if she
was crazed. “What do you know of Lily?”
    Raven sat up, gingerly
rubbing her bruised throat. “I have met her, Lord Greyden. Several
times, in fact. She is a sweet, unspoiled beauty who loves you very
much. At the moment, I admit to having no idea why that
is.”
    Apparently, neither did
Greyden. He shook his head, bewildered. “Why…?”
    Raven sighed and rose from
the bed. “My lord, I would rather not say this considering you
already think I believe in my own superiority but I feel it must be
said. What you are doing to that girl is unconscionable. She loves
you in spite of your obvious failings and you treat her as if she
is lower than you are. It’s not fair and you know she doesn’t
deserve it.”
    Several minutes passed as
Raven stared at Greyden, her gaze unflinching. His eyes held a
wealth of amazement, recognition, and surprisingly,
hurt.
    Then, to her dismay, his
features hardened once again.
    “Very clever, little
harlot, but you will not escape me so easily.”
    Before Raven could react
appropriately, Lord Greyden was on her. All she managed was an
abbreviated scream, high and