The shouts and jeers carried through the air for half a mile or more, the vigorous sound full of fire and aggression. The castle walls came into view. Fabian half expected to find men clambering over the ramparts, charging the doors with a battering ram or firing giant rocks from a catapult. But life outside the castle looked as peaceful as when he had left.

Fearing mutiny was afoot, Fabian broke into a run, leaving his men to trudge behind carrying Lillian’s trunk. His need to hurry stemmed from more than a fear of whatever was going on beyond the wall. For the first time in his life, he had missed home.

Four days away felt like forever. Lord, he’d spent endless months at sea, and never experienced the odd sense of separation. Home happened to be wherever he bedded down for the night. Now, home came in the form of a raven-haired beauty with eyes that bewitched a man at first sight.

He reached the gatehouse only to find the wooden doors shut, and so banged hard with his fist in the hope someone could hear him through the din. Isaac appeared at the square peephole and peered through the bars.

“Are we expecting an invasion?” Fabian mocked, although judging by the boisterous sounds coming from within, it sounded like a celebration.

“My lord, you’re back.” Isaac stepped away, raised the wooden barricade and opened the door. “Lady Ravenscroft wants to know who’s coming and going. We’re all to take turns guarding the door.”

Panic flared.

“Has there been some sort of incident?” A host of images flooded his mind. Had Aubrey broken out of his prison cell? Did the man have an accomplice who’d crept into the castle at night to rescue him? Damnation. Perhaps he’d been wrong to leave Lillian for so long, although it couldn’t be helped. After hearing Lillian’s heartrending story, dealing with Lord Cornell had become a priority.

“Not that I know of, my lord. Her ladyship gave the order last night.”

The order? Intrigued by his wife’s ability to command his men in his absence, Fabian strode through the gate, eager to hear more.

“Has her ladyship given any other orders while I’ve been away?”

“She forced Mackenzie to open the dungeon so she could speak to the prisoner.” Isaac shook his head and sighed. “Mackenzie tried his best to stop her, but it seems she had her mind made up.”

An unusual mix of pride and anger filled his chest. He wanted to worship Lillian’s strength and courage, wanted to take her by the arms and demand to know what the bloody hell she thought she was doing.

The clash of metal and another loud jeer drew his attention. “Please tell me the men aren’t fighting. I know they suffer from bouts of boredom when not at sea but there are better ways to spend their time.”

Isaac bit his bottom lip and struggled to hold Fabian’s gaze. “They’re fighting, my lord, with swords, but—”

“Swords!” Heaven help him. “And Mackenzie allowed such antics with my wife in residence?”

“Well …” A weird groan escaped Isaac’s lips. “Well … you see, Lady Ravenscroft is a competitor.”

Had Isaac punched Fabian on the nose, he would not have been more stunned. “Excuse me?”

Isaac shrank back. “There’s a competition to test parrying skills. So far, Lady Ravenscroft has beaten every man who’s stood against her.”

Fear gripped him this time. One wrong swipe and the damn woman would be married and buried all in the same week.

Without further ado, he strode into the bailey and joined the crowd of men gathered around in a circle.

“Och, how I wish I had taken bets,” Mackenzie cried. “I would be a rich man now that’s for sure.”

Fabian kept his head bowed as he joined the excited throng. Everyone was too busy watching his wife cross swords with Skinny Malinky to notice him.

“Remember, the winner of this bout is declared the champion.” Mackenzie gave a hearty chuckle. “Sorry, Malinky, but you’ll need your wits about you if you plan on beating her ladyship.”

“Make no allowances for me.” Lillian’s sweet voice pierced the air.

Fabian’s gaze drifted to his wife’s flushed cheeks and beaming smile. His stomach lurched. The muscles in his abdomen grew tight, and he doubted he had ever seen a more welcoming sight.

Only when both opponents stepped back and raised their swords, did Fabian notice that his wife wore a gentleman’s shirt, breeches and a pair of scuffed boots. Based on her unconventional attire, he’d expected to see her hair hanging loosely about her shoulders, but it was swept up into a chignon that worked in opposition to the rest of her attire.

Skinny struck out with his sword, the clang of metal drawing a gasp from the crowd. Fabian bit back a curse. To cry out would startle his wife and he could not take the risk of her making a mistake.

Lillian used a basic parry to defend the attack, a more complex “parry of four” to defend the blow to her right side. Impressive. Skinny dealt with her counterattack with skill and precision. The man’s long legs made him light and nimble on his feet. Lillian was able to ward off the next strike and returned with three consecutive blows that left Skinny stumbling.

Pride replaced Fabian’s apprehension. Lillian demonstrated remarkable swordsmanship. He watched in awe as she performed a move akin to a pirouette, twirling around until she ended up behind Skinny, the point of her rapier digging into his back.

Everyone cheered.

“The lady ain’t no siren,” one of his men muttered. “She’s a warrior if ever I’ve seen one.”

Mackenzie stepped forward, his chest puffed and his face aglow. “I’m sure you will all agree. Lady Ravenscroft is the winner of this competition.”

The smile on Lillian’s face warmed Fabian’s heart. She deserved all the good things life had to offer: friendship, passion, love—and he would be the one to give them to her. After his trip to London, that bastard Cornell knew Fabian would bury him in a shallow grave as fodder for the body snatchers, should he do anything to harm the wife of the Raven.

“Indeed,” Mackenzie continued, “our lady has beaten every man here.”

“Not every man,” Fabian shouted, weaving through the spectators. He shrugged out of his coat and handed it to one of his men. “I believe I am yet to compete.”

Gasps and excited whispers filled the air.

Lillian sucked in a breath. Her eyes widened though not from shock. Warmth radiated from those glistening gems. She looked ready to race into his arms, but she straightened her shoulders and a coy smile played on her lips.

“Are you sure you want your men to witness your defeat, my lord?”

Some of his men chuckled only to paste a serious expression when he glared into the crowd. “I mastered the art of swordsmanship while you were sewing with your threads.”

She clenched her jaw and raised her chin. “I received expert tutorage from the Italian master Alvaro Romano.”

“Did my men know that before you set them the challenge?”

“Of course not. Surely you know that the art of surprise plays to one’s advantage.”

Fabian smiled. Her confidence roused his desire. How was he to demonstrate his swordsmanship when he could think of nothing but thrusting into her sweet body?

“Oh, I have a few surprises that might make this a far more exciting challenge.” Fabian gestured for Skinny to lend him the sword. Skinny obliged, and Fabian practised a few lunges, swung the sword around his head to loosen the muscles in his wrist. “But I anticipate it will be over in a matter of minutes.”

“Over confidence is as debilitating as a chink in a knight’s armour.”

“Is it over confidence or merely an accurate interpretation of my skill?” God, he’d missed her company. He missed the witty banter, missed the challenging glint in her eyes. Seeing her now banished the dull ache in his chest, the constant reminder that life without her was unimaginable now. Fabian caught himself. He’d not just missed her these last few days — he’d missed her these last eight years.

They took their positions and touched swords. He waited for her to strike first and countered her attack. They teased each other, tapping swords, trying surprise lunges. Lillian swiped the air with her rapier, the whipping hiss a means to intimidate. What she lacked in strength, she made up for in the sheer grace of her movements.

They clashed swords. He deliberately locked his blade against hers in order to close the gap between them. “Have you missed me, Lilly?”

“Perhaps I should ask you the same question. You’ve been gone for four days.”

“From your tone, I detect the answer is yes.”

They stood rigidly, their swords crossed. The sharp blades were the only thing stopping him from kissing her. Using brute strength, he forced her sword to the left and stole a kiss.

The surprise move threw her off balance. The men jeered. Lillian’s cheeks flushed a pretty shade of pink and she swung at him, frustration evident. Fabian blocked the hit and drew them together again.

“Are you determined to put me in an early grave?” Fabian gazed at her lips, eager to taste them, to part them with his tongue and delve deep inside. “I almost expired on the spot when I saw you fighting with Skinny.”

She jerked her head, flicking away the lock of hair draped across her left eyebrow. “And I hardly slept a wink wondering where you were and what had happened to you.”

“So you were worried about me.” His smile faded when he noticed the cut above her brow. “What the hell happened to your eye?” Lord, he felt sick to his stomach. He was about to scold his men for their carelessness in combat, but the crusting around the wound confirmed it wasn’t fresh.

“I had an accident.” She knocked his sword aside, grabbed his waistcoat and kissed him roughly on the lips before stepping back and jabbing the rapier at him again.

Desire raged through his body. Anger fought to dampen his ardour. The internal war threw him off kilter. Fabian cursed himself for leaving her alone. And yet all thoughts turned to rousing a pleasurable sigh from her lips. Indeed, it took every ounce of concentration left to ward off Lillian’s attack.

“Did you have to leave me on my wedding night?” she blurted, as her blade slashed the air.

“Would I have left had it not been necessary?” Hot blood raced through his veins. He raised his sword and defended her attack. “There is no place I’d rather be than in your arms.”

Her mouth fell open, and her breath came in ragged pants. His comment proved too hard to defend. The sword slipped from her grasp.

Everyone gasped as they watched the outcome with eager anticipation.

“Is that the truth?” she whispered.

Fabian threw his sword to the ground. “You know I never lie.”

With some hesitance, she moved towards him. He opened his arms to welcome her and she ran the last few steps, jumped into his embrace and kissed him.

Nothing tasted as good as her lips. Somehow, she had gained confidence in her ability whilst he’d been away. She was the one to draw her tongue across the seam of his lips. She was the one moaning into his mouth as their tongues tangled.

“Come on now. Can you not see the competition is over?” Mackenzie whispered. “Be gone, you rowdy rabble.”

By rights, Fabian should tear his mouth away, carry his wife to their private chamber and continue what they had started. But he was held spellbound by the depth of her passion, held rigid by the powerful emotions filling his chest.

One man’s mutterings reached his ears. “I know she threw her sword down first, but in my book, the lady is the winner.”

Lillian broke contact. She stared into Fabian’s eyes as she tried to catch her breath.

“Do you want to continue this somewhere else?” He had to ask. It wouldn’t do to be presumptuous.

“You know I do.”

“I’ve spent four days on the road. Perhaps a dip in a hot tub is advisable first.”

Her hand came to rest on his chest. “I don’t care about that.” She pressed her lips to his again, this time the kiss was slow, heart-stoppingly sensual. Lillian spoke to his soul in a way no other woman ever had.

Fabian took her hand. “I have a better idea. One which will appease both of us.” Without warning he scooped her up into his arms, relishing in her playful shrieks, in the closeness of her body as she threw her arms around his neck.

After a tiring few days, he wasn’t sure how he found the strength to carry her up the stairs to their bedchamber. He barged the door open with his shoulder, trying not to drop her when she nuzzled his neck. With the heel of his booted foot, he kicked the door closed and delivered his wife to the comfort of the bed.

Lillian flopped back on top of the coverlet, her arms stretched above her head in wanton abandon. The loose-fitting shirt gave no indication as to the soft round breasts beneath. Still, he could imagine her nipples hardening under the heat of his gaze.

“Is there water in the bowl?” He resisted the urge to pull her shabby boots off, to tug down the breeches and settle between bare thighs.

She glanced at the washstand. “Yes, it’s relatively clean if not a little cold.”

“Good.” He grabbed her hand and pulled her to her feet. “Find a linen cloth while I strip.”

“And I suppose you want me to wash you as well,” she teased.

Fabian raised a brow. “What, don’t you want to rub your hands over my naked body?”

A blush touched her cheeks. She took a moment to reply. “When you put it like that perhaps I can be persuaded.”

While she found a cloth and swished it about in the water, he undid his waistcoat and threw it onto the chair. His boots followed, and he unbuttoned his breeches and left them hanging on his hips.

Lillian wrung the water from the cloth and came to stand before him. “I’m surprised to see you wearing a cravat. I thought you’d wear less formal attire while on the road.”

“I draw enough attention when seen in London,” he said, unravelling the length of silk. “A lord without an elegant cravat is like a king without a crown.”

“So you were in London?”

Although they were not clawing at each other in a rampant frenzy, the air thrummed with sexual tension. “I went to confront Lord Cornell and to bring you some clothes.” He drew his shirt over his head and added it to the pile of discarded garments. To distract her would lessen the blow when he told her the news.

“Lord Cornell?” Lillian’s heated gaze drifted over his chest. “What did you say to him?”

Fabian sucked in a breath as she drew the cold cloth across his shoulder and down his arm, rubbing the linen over his bicep. “It wasn’t what I said but more what I did.”

Lillian’s hand stilled. “Please tell me you didn’t meet him on the common at dawn.”

“I only duel with gentlemen. I consider Cornell to be vermin.”

Lillian continued to wipe his chest and abdomen with the linen square, each time moving closer to the band of his breeches. “So what did you do?”

“We kidnapped him as he left his club, stripped him naked and chained him to railings in Portman Square.” Fabian had come close to driving a blade through the cold bastard’s heart.

“Good Lord!” Her eyes widened. “Can you not hang for committing such a crime?”

He bent his head and kissed the frown from her brow. “There were no witnesses. The man was terrified out of his wits. I returned at dawn and released him on the proviso he refrain from all attempts to persecute you or your brother.”

“And you can trust his word?”

“He knows I will kill him if he hurts you again. I intend to send him a raven feather once a week as a stark reminder.” He smiled. “I think you need to rinse the cloth and begin again.”

“I told you, I don’t care about a bit of dust.” Her breath came quickly. “A man should smell of the road and leather, not fancy soap and perfume.”

Fabian pushed his breeches off his hips. His hard cock sprang free. “Perhaps you could attend to one more task before you discard the linen.”

After a brief hesitation, she wrapped nervous fingers around his shaft. “It would be my pleasure.” With care, she wiped the cloth over the length of him. “Did you ask Cornell about his connection to Lord Martin?”

Fabian struggled to think as she cleaned and massaged him. “Revenge is his motive. Lady Cornell believes she’s in love with your brother and … oh, that feels so good.”

“It is as I suspected then.”

“Indeed. But you never need think of it again. You’re free.”

“And that was your reason for leaving me?” Both hands gripped his cock now. She eased slowly back and forth until all rational thoughts left him.

“I’ll not have you living in fear. By now—” A groan left his lips. “You must know I would do anything for you.” He closed his eyes and relished the sensation of warm fingers gliding up and down in a sweet rhythm. “Now, perhaps you should remove your clothes, so I may see what I’ve missed these last few days.”

“Four days,” she corrected. She stood before him and stripped slowly, purely as a means to torment him for his long absence.

Fabian wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her to his chest. “Tell me you want me, Lilly. Tell me I’m forgiven for bringing you here.”

Her eyes brimmed with emotion, and she smiled. “I want you more than I’ve wanted anything my entire life. And I want to thank you for bringing me here.”

She twined her arms around his neck and kissed him deeply. He loved the feel of her soft mouth. He loved the way her pliant body moved so sensually against his. Most of all he loved … he loved her.