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the
return of his earlier anger.
    “I would like to know,
madam,” he began, declining the offer to sit, “exactly what you
think you are doing here?”
    Her dark, perfectly shaped
brows quirked ever so slightly at his sharply spoken inquiry. “I
was under the impression that you hired me to play the part of Lady
Rachael, Lord Windhaven. Am I mistaken in this? If so, I will
return to London first thing.”
    “That is not what I meant.
I realize I hired you to play the part of Lady Rachael. What I want
to know is, why are you acting like a damned saint?”
    Any shred of animation or
emotion on Raven’s face disappeared. She stared up at the duke and
said, “If my acting does not meet your requirements, my lord, I beg
that you inform me how I am to act instead of leaving me so
completely in the dark. I have agreed to this without prior
knowledge of your real reason behind it. What is it you truly wish
to accomplish with this masquerade?”
    Windhaven’s brow furrowed.
He began pacing about the room like a lion, his tawny locks winking
in the firelight.
    Raven sighed, drawing his
attention. “Why did you hire me, Lord Windhaven?”
    He stopped moving. He stood
as still as a statue, in fact. “I don’t know. I thought that if I
had a fiancée, grandmother would stop haranguing me about getting
married.”
    “That is highly unlikely
until you actually do marry, my lord,” she replied logically. She
moved across the room with the fluid grace for which she was known
and sat in a handsome chair by the crackling fire. “After all,
engagements are broken all the time. It would be very easy for you
to retain your independence and your grandmother did not strike me
as a stupid woman. She would not be satisfied until you were safely
wed.”
    The duke strode over and
sat down in the opposite chair. He looked at his companion, not
really caring for her unwavering calm. He supposed she was right.
The dowager had a way of not giving up until the very final moment.
She would hound him until he walked down the aisle with some pretty
young thing who would breed him strong sons.
    As the duke stared at
Raven, an idea began forming in his mind. She had all the behaviors
and mannerisms of a lady, so why not? He supposed he could do much
worse and Raven was definitely easy on the eyes. In fact, she was a
treat to look upon with her glossy black hair, fathomless black
eyes, tall, lusciously curved figure, and seductive voice. He felt
himself react physically to her charms just thinking about
it.
    So, the Duke of Windhaven
smiled charmingly and said, “That is easily solved. Marry
me.”
    Raven’s famous calm finally
deserted her. She had only been in residence less than a day and
already the man was determined to toy with her. She felt
indignation rising but forced it down and managed to come across as
merely annoyed rather than furious.
    “I will pretend you did not
say that and ask you politely to leave me, your grace,” she
replied. “If you would like me to continue this charade of being
your betrothed, I will oblige you. But please do not play games
with me.”
    “What games?” he asked
crossly. “I am in earnest, madam, and in considerable shock that
you would not take me seriously.”
    “Please, Lord Windhaven. If
you are in earnest, then you will, like the gentleman you are,
allow me time to consider your offer.”
    The duke rose to his feet
and bowed stiffly. She watched him leave the room and wondered why
the thought of marriage to such a man—a man who would try to dupe
his entire family by hiring an actress to play the part of his
affianced bride—had the power to make her heart skip a beat with
longing.

Chapter Two

    Raven awoke the next
morning with the duke’s offer on her mind. She splashed cold water
on her face in the hope it would help her see reason as she thought
about it some more. She dressed hurriedly in a warm dress of dark
wool with long sleeves and a high neck. Then she twisted her long
black hair