Read Spellbound for Free Online

that something was wrong. Raven was very
still, like a marble statue. In fact, with her beauty, she could
have been exactly that at that moment.
    He nudged her gently.
“Anything wrong, my lady?” he asked.
    She smiled up at him. “Of
course not, my lord. Why would you think anything was
wrong?”
    “You seem to have turned to
stone at the mere sight of my brother. Usually,” he said dryly,
“ladies melt when he deigns to look upon them with any sort of
favor.”
    Her black, delicately
arched brows rose haughtily at this and Tristan thought in that
moment that she really could be Dunston’s lost daughter. She was
the right age; her features and skin tone matched those of his
family. She had a regal bearing that came naturally; it was not
something that could be learned. She even had the haughty
attitude.
    “I assure you, Lord
Windhaven, I do not melt at the sight of just any man,” he realized
Raven was saying.
    Her words were a warning
and he took them as such. Although, he very much wanted to test
that theory at least to the extent of himself.
    Favoring her with one of
his rare smiles, he offered his arm, saying, “Allow me to escort
you to breakfast, my lady.”
    Raven gave him a confused
look. “Breakfast, Tristan? Is it not past that time
yet?”
    Consulting a watch that
hung from a chain attached to his waistcoat, the duke nodded
thoughtfully. “Too true,” he murmured. “I am, however, lord of this
manor and a duke to boot. If you would still like breakfast, I am
sure I can make that happen.”
    “No, please, do not trouble
the servants, my lord duke, I can manage with something light, I
think.”
    Tristan gave her a haughty
look. “They are servants, Rae. They are here to serve. If they do
not, they grow useless and must be let go. I am sure you do not
want that.”
    Raven opened her mouth to
tell him a thing or two about misusing servants, but snapped it
shut, determined to maintain a civil silence throughout the rest of
the morning.
    “Rachael Eliot, you cannot
possibly think I mistreat my servants,” the duke said, again
showing an uncanny ability to read her mind. “I think I will choose
to be deeply offended by that belief. And to regain my good
opinion, you must pay a forfeit.”
    “What forfeit?” she asked
suspiciously.
    “You must agree to marry
me,” he whispered, leaning closer. Then, quite before she knew what
he was about, he pressed his lips to hers in a fleeting kiss that
was over before it began.
    “My dear?”
    He was holding out his arm
expectantly, and Raven took it mechanically, too shaken by his
unexpected kiss to do otherwise. He gave her an odd look, which she
returned blankly.
    “If this is how you act
every time I kiss you, perhaps I never shall again,” he remarked
with a half-smile and quirked eyebrow.
    “Oh, no,” blurted Raven,
surprising them both. “I mean…well, you do not…oh, dear.” She
blushed furiously and placed one hand to her brow. “I can’t seem to
think straight. Perhaps I am sickening for something.” It was
totally unlike her to be so moved by a mere kiss, especially one
lacking in passion, desire, or any feeling whatsoever.
    A gleam entered Tristan’s
green eyes but Raven was so preoccupied with her odd reaction to
him that she saw it too late. He clipped her around the waist,
pressing her full-length against him, and covered her mouth with
his in a kiss that had all the passion, desire, and feeling she
could have asked for. His other hand cradled her face as his kiss
deepened into something more personal, more intimate than anything
she’d ever experienced before. She felt tears come to her eyes and
was helpless to stop them from spilling down her cheeks.
    “Well, isn’t this an
interesting sight,” inquired a lazy voice tinged with malicious
amusement.
    Tristan drew away slowly,
but there was an angry glint in his eyes that Raven caught. She
wondered briefly if he was angry with her but saw almost instantly
that it was his brother