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off to sleep, my dear, ponder this: how do you think Draven will react to you now that you have returned? You dishonored him. Perhaps it will take some time for him to warm up to you, if he ever does.”
    Didn’t Helena know that her son was a heartless devil?
    “I would like to know if you are still in residence here.” Anger seeped into Isabella’s voice.
    Helena sucked in the staleness of the room. “I am. I suppose I could live in my Mayfair home, but I prefer not to face my friends in London with the scandal you’ve cast upon Draven and me. Besides, I reasoned that my son needed me after he’d been abandoned by his wife.”
    “To say that I’m indifferent to your presence here would be lying, Helena. Good evening,” Isabella said.
    The noblewoman shot her a haughty glare as she swept out of the room.
    Screeching winds and battering rain vibrated off the rooftop as Isabella reached her suites. Clicking the door shut behind her, she scanned the room and its furnishings. An enormous four-poster bed dominated the space while a lace-skirted vanity stood adjacent to it at an angle. Along the opposite wall, a sturdy chiffonier marked the entry to a private washroom—a luxury Isabella appreciated.
    Anxious to relax, she located her portmanteau and the tray of food Mrs. Eaton had sent up. She ate quickly, downed the cordial, then exchanged her damp traveling dress for a nightgown. Refusing help from Gwyneth when the girl knocked on the door, Isabella loosened her hair into a braid and slipped beneath the counterpane of the four-poster with a sigh.
    She would have to find Draven tomorrow.
    The storm rattled the windowpanes to a strangely soothing melody. As she started to fall asleep, a gust of wind swung the unlocked window frame into the room. When the frame struck the wall with a tremendous bang, she leapt out of bed and rushed toward the window. Wind and rain thrashed her body. Isabella leaned her weight against the heavy frame, but she was unable to close it.
    Her nightgown clung to her body, making her breasts peak uncomfortably beneath its cold fabric. Frustration rose in her throat. To her surprise, a hand snaked across the bottom ridge of her bosom and jerked her out of the storm’s path.
    She pushed the wet hair from her face and turned to see who had come to her aid. A combination of prickly terror and animal attraction tingled her spine as she found herself staring at her estranged husband. And he didn’t look happy to see her.

Chapter Six
    D raven looked like a wild man.
    Well over six feet tall, he hovered above Isabella like a titanic wave. An abundance of long, jet-black hair framed his diamond-shaped face while his shirt flowed alluringly over muscled shoulders. Unbuttoned, the shirt revealed the burnished chest and rippling torso Isabella hadn’t forgotten.
    After drinking in the sights of his narrow hips set off by low-slung breeches and the fascinating planes of his unshaven face, it dawned on her that Draven’s eyes had taken on a strange shade of red. It lent him a look of uncensored madness.
    Fear building inside her, she stood motionless. Draven slipped his hand from her waist, moved to the window, and shut it. Turning back in her direction, he surveyed her from head to toe. His untamed eyes settled on Isabella’s breasts and she realized her garment must be completely transparent. Reminding herself that she meant to seduce him, she made no move to cover herself, though her heart was banging incessantly against her rib cage.
    “Th-thank you for helping me,” she stammered through chattering teeth.
    He acknowledged her exposure with one arched brow. When he parted his lips, she braced herself for the rich tone of his voice.
    “How ironic,” he said. “We meet again in the same wardrobe in which we parted ways.”
    Memories of that night flashed before Isabella in rapid succession.
    Draven commanding her to join him in bed.
    Her self-consciousness in the sheer negligee she wore.
    His hot