Untaming Lady Violet by April Moran
Chapter 18
Violet was magnificent. All flowing auburn hair and flashing amethyst-blue eyes. A flimsy concoction of ivory muslin wrapped around her body fired Tristan’s blood to the point of boiling. Had she traversed the halls wearing only that?
Sweet Jesus.It was sinful. And arousing. And innocent. And infuriatingly distracting.
She glared up at him, a mixture of anguish and fury igniting the dark blue depths of her eyes. When Tristan thought she might speak, she did just the opposite.
The slap she delivered left a stinging red palm print on his cheek.
“How dare you,” Violet choked out. “How dare you prattle on and on of your desire for me. Your need. What a blessed fool I’ve been.I’m mortified that just because a known scoundrel said I’m beautiful, I abandoned all good sense and believed his lies. I allowed myself to hope, to dream. All while you consorted with that—that horrid woman. How taxing you must find it, keeping us separate while chasing us both. Well, you no longer need to worry about maintaining pretenses, keeping those pretenses up, Longleigh. In fact, you needn’t have bothered with this charade at all. I never asked for your attention, nor demanded it. I’m hardly one of those frivolous women, salivating over you. Fawning over you. Craving a crumb of your regard. You and Lady Fiona are welcome to each other, you duplicitous blackguard.”
Tristan felt a rising urge to clasp Violet against his chest, to quiet the outburst with kisses, but her fiery statement hit a sour note deep in his gut.
“The little kitten grows claws at last,” he breathed. “While you practice sharpening those weapons on my admittedly tough hide, let me make one thing absolutely clear. I have not, and will not pursue Fiona Blackerby. The woman deludes herself into thinking she might trick me into marriage, but I’ll have nothing to do with it, or her for that matter.”
“Then why is she in your rooms after midnight?” Violet cried. “In her nightclothes… sneaking about the corridors.”
“Why are you?” Tristan countered serenely.
His question shocked her. Violet gaped at him for a moment then fiercely blurted out, “I came to inform you I’ve no more desire to be alone with you than you do with me. Your intention to paint Carrot in such a public setting as your mother’s rose garden, rather than the woods as I requested, is evidence of that. You’ll recall I’ve been trying to avoid situations that might be considered improper—"
“You mean situations like appearing on my doorstep in your nightgown while the rest of the household are in their beds? Or perhaps the instances when you’ve sought me out in my studio, and instructed that I shut the door so we could be alone.” Tristan’s voice was silky-smooth. Dangerous. And on the edge of something even he didn’t quite comprehend. He felt strung tight as a bowstring as they stared at each other, tension and heat crackling between them like a flashfire.
Violet struggled against his grip. “Let me go. Only a heartless monster would kiss me as you have done and then blame me for responding to it.”
“I only point out that you seek my company. I am guilty of the same.”
“You are keeping me here now. Against my will.”
Tristan swore softly beneath his breath. “Be honest, Violet. Right here. Right now. Be honest with yourself and with me.”
A part of him deeply regretted forcing Violet to acknowledge her own actions, but Tristan knew it must be done. He’d pushed an unfair advantage with his kisses and caresses; however, she could not play the victim forever.
Sucking in an outraged breath, Violet’s eyes narrowed. For the longest time, she simply looked up at him as though attempting to unravel a mystery or a puzzle. Then her shoulders slumped. All the righteous anger bled from her body, leaving behind a dejected shell. Misery flashed across her heart-shaped face.
Her defeat happened quickly, the sight of it nearly breaking Tristan’s embattled heart.
“You are right, Tristan. I-I have placed myself, and you, in positions which could irrevocably compromise us both. I did not even realize it until you pointed it out this very moment. How silly and sad you must think I am. I’m so sorry, and I swear, I’ve not attempted to trick you into something as serious as marriage. I would never do something so dishonorable.” Surprisingly dark and thick eyelashes swept down, hiding her thoughts from scrutiny, that blood-red, bee-stung mouth of hers trembling as if she might cry at any moment. “But even if it’s just been a lovely lie, even if I only serve as a temporary amusement, you should know I enjoy it. I shall live on those moments for the rest of my life, as pathetic as it sounds when said aloud.”
Listening to her, Tristan realized something quite profound and unexpected. He had no idea how he got there, but there he was. Standing on the sharp edge of a jagged cliff with no sight of the bottom, and only two logical choices facing him.
He could agree with this shy, gorgeous, tenderhearted girl. Say he’d merely toyed with her for his own pleasure. Send her on her way with the understanding their lives would continue on separate paths. Their association would abruptly end, with the exception of exchanging pleasantries when they encountered one another in social settings, and that would be that.
Or he could leap off the cliff with his eyes closed. Take her hand. Take her with him. See where they landed.
His hand slid up the column of her throat, his thumb pressing the underside of her chin. Exerting pressure, he forced her head back, his fingers sliding so that they meshed in the silk curtain of her hair.
“I should send you away without a care for your feelings, Violet. But I cannot. And I won’t. Because I am the devil himself. And the devil takes what he wants, damn the consequences. Do you think I don’t want you? Because I do. God help me, but I do. Since that afternoon under the oak tree, I’ve tortured myself with thoughts of having you. I tried distancing myself so you wouldn’t get hurt, but I can’t let you believe I don’t want you. I ache for you, Violet.” Tristan’s other hand snaked around her waist, pulling her tight against him. “I want you for myself. No other man has a right to see the beauty that is you.”
Violet’s body quivered, the tiny tremors rippling through her body as delicate and as finely wrought as the fluttering of a fairy’s wings.
Tristan felt every single one like a shock to his own system. An overwhelming sense of protectiveness swept him. He needed to shield and comfort her. To make her smile and laugh. To stand between her and danger. It wasn’t love. Of that he was positive. But he was deeply fond of her. And Hell’s fire, he wanted her in his bed.
“You shouldn’t tell such falsehoods. It isn’t kind—” Violet said between clenched teeth. Little stars of tears illuminated her eyes.
“Do not doubt my words,” Tristan growled back, exasperated that she could not comprehend her loveliness. “You are the most gorgeous creature I’ve ever laid eyes on. And the kindest. The most intelligent… most sensible…”
Violet’s lips curved, causing the little dimple in her right cheek to peek out. “You have no fear of being accused of insincerity.”
His head bowed toward hers. “I’ve no idea what will happen with you and me, but Violet, this attraction between us is real. What I feel for you is real.”
“You’ll forgive my ignorance, Tristan, but is this an offer of some sort?” Violet asked softly, a thread of sorrow lacing her words.
Tristan hesitated, remembering his father’s plea. He could help her avoid a union with Gadley and other unscrupulous men like him.
The problem was, if he leaped off the cliff and took her with him, he would become the villain.
“In a way, it could be. Perhaps it’s possible to change Gadley’s mind when it comes to marrying you. And I can appease my father’s insistent demands that I seek a wife without actually committing to the deed.”
“You want me as your mistress.”
Tristan chuckled. “What do you know of men and their mistresses, kitten?”
Violet’s eyes flashed. “I know many gentlemen have them. The Earl of Ravenwood was known to consort with Lady Veronica before Lady Ivy entranced him. The same is true of Lord Bentley before Lady Sara agreed to become his wife. And you should know better than most that the Duke of Richeforte kept several mistresses, all at the same time, including that awful baroness. At least, until the duchess cast a spell over him.” A pensive air came over her. “Apparently, those gentlemen no longer have need of a mistress. No one gossips of them anymore. Do you suppose marriage cures a man of the urge in certain instances?”
Tristan rubbed the underside of her chin with his thumb, marveling over its velvety softness. “I’d say those marriages are the exception, Violet, at least in the ton. As for the two of us, while I can give you pleasure the likes of which you’ve never known, I’ve no intention nor interest in having you as my mistress.”
The insinuation he was not interested in marriage went unsaid.
Her disappointment was almost palatable. The thought she might want to actually become his mistress should not have excited Tristan, but it did.
“Why not? Would I be so terrible in the position?” Violet’s mouth tightened with silent indignation. “Like anything else, I imagine it is a skill that can be learned. This business of being kept for a man’s enjoyment and amusement cannot be all that difficult.”
Swallowing past the lump of lust that rose in his throat at the thought of teaching her just how to go about becoming his mistress, Tristan brushed his lips over her forehead. “You are not mistress material, Violet. But rest assured, were I a weaker man, I’d lock you away from the rest of the world, and you would never leave my bed.”
“So, this would simply be for appearances?”
“Yes. And for a bit of pleasure, if you agree,” Tristan said.
“You will kiss me... and touch me, as you did before?” Violet asked hesitantly. “But you will not make me your mistress?”
“Yes and no.” He deliberately kept his response cryptic.
“You won’t entertain Lady Fiona while helping me,” Violet asserted with unexpected fierceness. “I will not compete with that woman, even if our arrangement is a false one.”
Tristan had serious doubts of just how counterfeit things might be between them, but he nodded in agreement. “I’ve no interest in that woman. Shall I prove it right now?”
“How? Lady Fiona isn’t here.”
“Good thing, too,” Tristan murmured. “This demonstration is strictly for your benefit. Besides, she would be terribly jealous if she saw me do this.”