Page 21 of Untaming Lady Violet
Violet wanted nothing more than to nestle within the warm, steel cage of his arms. By sheer willpower alone, she remained upright. “It is improper to be here like this. If someone came through that door…”
“It was improper fifteen minutes ago,” Tristan interrupted with a crooked smile. “A few minutes more won’t matter now, I’m afraid.”
“But they could, Tristan. Anyone could come searching for me. For you. For both of us. You practically demanded Lady Fiona leave us here alone.” Violet succeeded in tearing herself away while Tristan’s eyes narrowed in thought. “What do you think she has done as a result? She is surely telling everyone we are cosseted here together. Unsupervised. If someone caught us like this, caught us… kissing… it would be ruinous. And while that may not mean anything to you, it does to me. You—we could be forced to wed.”
Violet placed some distance between their bodies. And a few pieces of furniture as well. The grin Tristan flashed acknowledging her actions was ignored, but her anger, and she recognized the strange feeling as anger now, could not be denied. Anger and excitement.
“Married? For a single kiss?” Tristan scoffed. “What strange notions they put in young girls’ heads in these misguided efforts of keeping them pure.” He allowed her escape with a shrug of nonchalance. They both knew he could easily recapture her if he wished it. “If that were the case, then why were the entire lot of you playing those ridiculous parlor games? Everyone knows what they are about. Besides, if kisses required marriage, my sister would already be someone’s wife several times over. Holy matrimony isn’t so easily accomplished, my dear. And I should know.”
Even as he said that, the doorknob to the parlor was turning, a distinctly feminine voice calling out first Tristan’s name, then Violet’s.
Celia’s head poked through the opening between the door and the jamb. Her eyes widened almost comically, noting the space yawning between Violet and Tristan.
Scowling as if disappointed she’d not caught them in a passionate embrace, she hurriedly swung the door open wide.
“Are you two coming out into the terrace or not?” Celia’s gaze darted from Violet to Tristan. “And what’s this about my being someone’s wife?”
Chapter 8
After Celia interrupted their peculiar conversation, Violet wasted little time in retreating. Murmuring a rather paltry excuse, she fled the parlor, leaving Tristan to dodge Celia’s pointed questions. Questions he had no intention of answering.
Tristan rose early the next morning, determined to put the previous evening behind him. Determined he would keep his distance from Violet for the remainder of his time at Darby Meadows.
As soon as the May Day Affair is over, I’m off to Longleigh Woods. Staying here is a recipe for disaster.
Stalking down the path leading to the stables, he recalled Violet’s agitation the night before. During her escape, she’d not spared him a second glance and Tristan couldn’t blame her. He’d made a terrible mess of things.
Thinking which of his father’s geldings he would saddle, he rounded a bend in the path and found the object of his dreams striding along the same walkway.
“Of all the damned luck…” Tristan bit off the curse.
There was the hope she never caught sight of him, but the crunch of his boots on the path’s gravel alerted her of his presence.
Violet glanced over her shoulder, a small sound of distress escaping at the sight of him. But she halted, waiting on the path until he caught up.
“Good morning, Lord Longleigh.” Her smile was wan and somewhat exasperated.
Tristan fought back a surge of arousal.
I nearly devoured you last night. Your hips were against mine yesterday afternoon. I woke at dawn with your name on my lips, my own hand gripping my cock. Fantasizing that it was your innocent fingers stroking me. And still, you call me by my formal title?
How could she look so beautiful this early in the morning? It wasn’t fair she appeared somewhat well-rested when he’d tossed and turned all night, mind overflowing with all manner of debauched plans for the lovely Lady Violet.
And it wasn’t fair there was no chance a single one of those would ever come true.
She must have forgone the services of her maid and dressed herself. Her morning gown was a lovely peach moiré silk, simple in design with delicate ivory buttons pulling the bodice closed. Left unbound, her hair was a banner of dark auburn flames, the soft waves reaching the curve of her waist. A matching silk ribbon pulled it all away from her face.
Tristan could hardly tear his gaze away from the beauty of those tresses. He wanted a chunk of it wrapped tight around his fist while he brought their mouths together for a scorching kiss. He’d use those soft curls as a silken tether. Tug them until her spine formed a lovely arch, and with one hand spanning her perfect heart-shaped buttocks, he’d anchor her in place while he slid inside her…
“Good morning, Violet.”
She frowned, obviously dismayed he was using her given name.
Turning toward the stables, Violet began walking once more, the delicate scent of her lavender and vanilla perfume drifting on the morning air. She seemed determined to place some distance between them, as was he. He just couldn’t let her go so soon.
“What are you doing up and about so early?” He noticed she carried a bit of cloth but couldn’t see what it contained.
“I’ve business in the stables.” Seeing where his gaze drifted, Violet clutched the tiny bundle tighter.
