Page 15 of Untaming Lady Violet
“And I’m sure I’d rather see firsthand what sort of trouble you’re brewing.”
“Oh! You are impossible!” Celia stomped a tiny foot, causing Violet to jump in surprise and Henry Bowman to cover a smile with his fist. “I won’t allow it, Longleigh. I won’t! Violet is rarely allowed freedom, and you will ruin everything before there’s even a chance for a tiny bit of fun.”
Violet flushed such a deep shade of red, Tristan felt a surge of pity.Is she under that tight of a leash?Do her parents manage her that closely?She was a frequent visitor of their family while growing up, but admittedly, she’d not come around as often over the past two years.
Thinking on it now, shortly after Grace Willsdown arrived as his father’s ward, Violet’s time at Darby Meadows dramatically decreased.
He was inserting himself into matters concerning Violet when he had no standing for it. He wasn’t her brother, nor her betrothed. Or even a distant relative. What right did he have placing himself in her path? Especially when it came to harmless parlor games and whatever amusements young people devised?
None.
But still…
Tristan couldn’t let her go without offering some type of protection.
“If you will excuse us for a brief moment, I must ask Lady Violet something requiring a bit of privacy.”
“I don’t mind, Longleigh,” Bowman agreed, both hands going up in surrender when Tristan shot him a heated glare.
“I’m relieved to hear that, Bowman. Not that I sought your consent.”
Turning toward Celia, Tristan found her regarding him with narrowed eyes.
“If it will keep you from the Emerald Parlor…” she clarified, and Tristan huffed in exasperation at his younger sibling’s persistence.
Giving Celia a terse nod of agreement, Tristan took Violet by the elbow and pulled her several steps away. Puzzlement lit her amethyst-hued eyes as she waited for him to speak.
Tristan began, then closed his mouth. There was a way of saying what he wished to say, a way of stating it tactfully. But damned if he knew it.
“Violet, will you give me a truthful answer?”
“Of course.” She smiled, the tiny dimple in her cheek begging that he dip his tongue into it. “I’m a very honest person.”
“You may not wish to give me what I want.”
“I will. I promise.” She leaned toward him. “What is it?”
“Have you been kissed before? Kissed by a man who would devour you?” To his own ears, his voice was hard. Gruff. Vibrating with the unmistakable truth he wanted to be that man.
Glancing down, he saw his own fingers unconsciously caressing the fabric covering her elbow.
With a low growl, Tristan turned them so his body shielded Violet’s shocked face from his sister’s bemusement, Bowman’s curiosity, and the faint interest of other guests trickling into the foyer. “Have you?” he prodded.
Violet swayed. Just the tiniest bit, but that in itself was an answer. Tristan’s blood nearly ignited within his veins.
“No,” she admitted softly, eyes wide and hazy with innocent arousal.
It took everything inside Tristan to keep from snatching her up against him and rectifying that abomination—no, it’s a blessing—right there on the spot. Only by gritting his teeth to the point of pain did he gain control of himself.
When he dared look at her again, the possessiveness of his irrational demand astounded even him.
“Your first kiss is mine. You will save it for me. And when I want it, you will surrender it without question.”
Chapter 6
The entire evening dissolved into something Violet could only categorize as slightly bizarre.
It began with Tristan monopolizing her attention at dinner. Unconcerned with the whispers the seating arrangements stirred, he blithely disregarded the stares while keeping her engaged in conversation.
