Untaming Lady Violet by April Moran

Chapter 27

Violet did not move when Tristan finally pulled away from her.

Leaving her on the sofa, he retrieved his trousers and slid them up over slim hips. His eyes lingered on her figure with such latent heat, Violet felt the need to conceal her nakedness. But her gown and corset lay on the floor, out of arm’s reach. Draped over one of the blank canvases near the window was her chemise, its haphazard placement the result of Tristan flinging it aside.

That left her with a pair of silk stockings which were certainly no help. They only provided cover from toe to just above her knees.

Biting her lip in consternation, Violet watched Tristan deliberately turn away.

He disappeared into what she assumed was a small water closet. There came the sound of drawers opening, then splashing water. Just as quickly as he left, he returned to her, the lamplight casting him in shadow.

“Here,” Tristan murmured, sinking into a sitting position by her side. In his hand was a small cloth and a glass containing clear liquid. “Drink this.”

Propping herself half upright, Violet was acutely aware of her nudity. Accepting the glass, she took a cautious sip. “It’s water.”

A smile tugged at Tristan’s firm lips. “Of course, it is. I’m sorry it’s a bit cold.”

Violet cocked her head. “I don’t understand.”

“Warmer would be better, but we must make do.”

Using his free hand, Tristan encouraged her knees to fall apart, exposing her in such a way she wasn’t sure if it was erotic or shameful. Before she could draw a breath, the cloth pressed between her legs.

“Oh!” Violet hissed, instinctively grabbing Tristan’s huge hand. Her fingernails dug into his wrist.

Her attempts at shoving him away proved unsuccessful. It was like trying to move a boulder with a twig. The private flesh he believed needed ministrations was tender. Sensitive. She tried wiggling free of his control, even while realizing the shock of the cold, damp cloth was rather soothing.

Tristan pinned her with an unreadable stare, dark brown eyes stilling her movements.

“Let me, Violet.”

There was no room for negotiation in his low tone. Trembling, and so embarrassed that her cheeks felt on fire, Violet slowly released her grip.

With calm, gentle strokes, Tristan cleaned her. The cloth, now tinged a faint pink with the blood of her virginity, was folded in half. The fresh side of the square was then used to wipe away the evidence of lovemaking from her belly.

Tristan watched Violet closely, his own expression solemn. There wasn’t even a glimmer of lust as he took care of her. When he was finished with the task, he stoked a fire in the fireplace grate, tossing the cloth into the flames.

Finally, he located her chemise and pulled it over her head, then settled onto the settee beside her.

With his back against the furniture’s cushion, he tugged Violet until she reclined against him. Tucked between his spread thighs, with her back to his front, she let him position her as he wished.

“Stay here with me for a while, Violet,” he said, his lips brushing the top of her head while he spoke. Muscular arms wrapped around her waist.

If she wanted to escape, he was not making it easy.

“You do not want me to go?” The question came out tremulous despite her best effort. She was tense, her spine so rigid it kept a small space between their bodies despite the close proximity.

“God, no.” Gathering the bulk of her hair in his fist, Tristan arranged it so the lustrous waves tumbled over her opposite shoulder. Now, he could kiss the side of her neck unimpeded. Running his large fingers through her hair, he patiently untangled a few snarls. “Quite the opposite, kitten. I want you to stay. Surely, no harm can come from simply enjoying each other’s company in the little time we have together. Do you not find this pleasant?”

Violet relaxed with his words, sinking into the hard planes of his bare chest. The heat of his skin burned her through the linen of her chemise. Molded against him like this, held with such exacting care, she felt secure. Safe. Cherished.

For so many years, she’d longed for something like this to happen between her and Tristan. Would it be so damaging if she took this for herself? Kept it as a secret treasure? It would be a moment to remember Tristan by long after they parted ways.

“Yes,” she shyly answered. “It is lovely. I wish—”

With a little shake of her head, Violet clamped her lips together.

Tristan lifted a curl from her shoulder. It wound about his finger like a silk ribbon. “What do you wish, Violet?” Curiosity tinged his words.

Clinging would only make matters worse, Violet decided. She was determined not to be like so many of his conquests; determined to walk away when it was truly over. “It doesn’t matter, Tristan. Really, it doesn’t.”

With a heavy sigh, Tristan pulled her tighter against him, his arm becoming a welcome vise over her midsection. Violet rested her fingers lightly on the muscled forearm, absently tracing veins which stood out in relief when he flexed the tiniest bit.

Her touch drifted aimlessly until she reached his hand where it curved along the line of her belly. The fascination she had with his hands still existed, even more so now that she’d experienced their effect on her body.

A smile tugged at her lips when he entwined their fingers together. Lifting her hand to his mouth, he gave it a soft kiss.

“You are an odd, little creature, Violet.”

“You are not the first to say so, and being odd has a few surprising advantages. My shortcomings are easily overlooked. Even where my own parents are concerned, I’m quite forgettable.” Violet’s tone turned pensive. “There’s never been any cause to worry for my virtue. Or fret I would receive improper attention from a gentleman. And until you, I’ve never considered doing anything remotely scandalous. My shyness has concealed me from the world. No one sees me, which is both a curse and a blessing, I suppose.”

Pushing her upright, Tristan gripped Violet’s shoulders and turned her upper body so they faced one another. There was a faintly distressed glitter in his dark eyes, his voice carrying a subtle undercurrent of puzzled torment.

“My words did not come out as I intended. Odd is not an insult, at least not when it relates to how I regard you. I simply meant… hell, I’m not sure how I meant it. But, in my opinion, being odd is precisely what makes you unique. Special, and so different from everyone else. Everything about you dazzles the eye, and I’m always left breathless. I do see you, Violet. And now I find it impossible to look away.”

Tristan crushed her mouth then, delving deep with thorough, intense sweeps of his tongue. He kissed her as though he’d just invented the act and needed her for the purpose of perfecting the motions.

Violet surrendered at once, her hands bracketing Tristan’s cheeks. She delighted in the passionate embrace, the unyielding pressure of his arms, and mostly, the scorching heat of his body stoking the flames of her own. With a whimper, she scooted closer to him, snuggling against the wide planes of his chest and breathing deeply of his masculine cologne.

Tristan always smelled so heavenly. Wintergreen and spice. That teasing touch of leather. How she would miss him…

With effort, he finally released her lips, giving one lingering nibble along the corner of her mouth. The smile he gave her was crooked and slightly apologetic.

“I’m sorry for that. It seems I can hardly be near you and not begin kissing you in some manner.”

“I don’t mind,” Violet whispered, determined to take each and every kiss and store them away in her memories. “Keep kissing me, Tristan.”

“Will you solve a puzzle for me first?” His finger traced the expanse of skin left exposed by the gaping neckline of her chemise.

She regarded him curiously as his touch trailed up and circled the shell of her ear. When she shivered in response, he chuckled while his hand half-curled around her neck, his thumb finally resting in the hollow of her throat. He held her there in that manner for a long moment, a slight frown marring his brow as he watched her. Violet had the impression he was attempting to resolve his own question without her assistance.

“In a few days, all guests will be invited to ride in the Darby Fox Chase. For as long as the Buchanan family has held the Darby title, this chase has been held three days prior to the May Day Affair. It’s tradition, as you well know.”

Violet nodded, her stomach tightening. She was intimately acquainted with the Darby Fox Chase.

“And in all the years you’ve been a guest in my father’s home, I don’t recall ever seeing you take part. Of course, when you were younger, I admittedly would not have paid much attention. But I’m sure I would have taken notice of you more recently. Especially as you would likely ride alongside Celia. Then, there is something you said to me when you and I rescued the beast in the stables. Do you remember what you said?”

Violet shrank a little but bravely lifted her chin. “I recall saying quite a bit during the course of that particular morning.”

At her subtle, yet flippant reply, Tristan’s hand closed fractionally firmer, fingers curling over the nape of her neck while his thumb stroked the careening pulse in her throat. Did he have any idea how this small gesture both excited and frightened her?

As if well aware of it, Tristan’s lips quirked upward. “You said you did not ride,” he reminded her softly. “That horses frighten you. You mentioned an incident, and for some reason, I wondered if I had something to do with that fear. I would like very much if you would ride beside me during the chase. And if you are frightened, I would like to remedy that situation. Tell me, Violet. I can help you.”

Her laugh was a humorless sound.

“The incident was of little matter then, and even less now.”

“Tell me regardless,” he urged.

Violet tried moving away, flustered by Tristan’s persistence and the apparent sincerity of his request, but he would not allow it. When his hand tightened again, it seemed directly connected to the odd flutter of lust in her stomach.

“Violet, I want to help you.”

“Why would you? Besides, do you think Lord Gadley cares whether or not I can ride?” she shot back, cringing on the inside at the abomination of uttering the man’s name in this room. “His only interest is correcting my behavior. In fact, he says he will take great pleasure in doing just that.” Her voice wobbled despite efforts to steady it. “I doubt I’ll be allowed out of his sight once we are wed, much less given leave to venture to the stables whenever it strikes my fancy.”

“Correct you?” Tristan’s jaw tightened. “The hell he will.”

Violet nibbled at her bottom lip. “Let’s not tangle ourselves in that argument again, Tristan.”

“Kitten.” Increasing the pressure on her neck, Tristan tilted her head back until their gazes locked. “Biting your lip like that distracts me. Now, I concede the discussion on your possible marriage; however, you will tell me what I want to know.”

When she stubbornly remained silent, Tristan sighed and tugged her closer.

“Tell me because I’m asking you.” His lips brushed her forehead. “Not because I demand it.”