Page 31 of Untaming Lady Violet
Violet pushed his chest with balled fists, eyes swimming in tears. A desperate sob of humiliation escaped her throat when Tristan leaned back, sweeping her body head to toe with a scalding look. Then his face softened with something suspiciously tender, and his mouth lowered toward hers again.
This time, Violet delivered a slap so vicious her palm stung as if a bee had settled its stinger in its center. “Damn you, stop!”
His dark brown eyes widened. “You really mean that.” Immediately, he stepped back. Sliding his hand out from the bodice of her dress, he repaired her clothing with careful attention until she was decent once again.
Did he even notice how she trembled with his touch?
Perhaps her fury amused him.
The imprint of her hand on his cheek glowed in the moonlit darkness. Tristan rubbed it with a rueful grin. “My little wild Violet finally made an appearance. Thank God.”
Without his leg pressing intimately between her thighs, his hands no longer exploring her curves, and his mouth not ravishing hers, Violet could think clearly. Rationally. And what she realized was beyond disturbing.
“You play games, Longleigh. You toy with me because it amuses you, and this is how you keep women at a distance.” Her voice caught before she steeled herself. “I’ve allowed it because of my affection for you, but as you point out, I shall be someone’s wife one day. Not yours, but someone’s. For that fact alone, you will stay away from me.”
Pushing past him, Violet gathered her shawl and fan off the terrace wall. She was several paces away when a mocking whistle swung her around in disbelief.
Tristan whistled a second time. The low, incinerating sound made Violet’s blood heat slowly like a teapot set to boil. Her eyes narrowed.
Hands casually tucked into his coat pockets, grinning as if her fierce declaration merely served as the evening’s entertainment, Tristan rocked on his heels. “What of the wager? It was a game fairly played, and you were the victor, after all. I won’t be swayed from paying my debt.”
Violet’s teeth clenched, anger biting away the edges of her despair. “Don’t you realize I counted cards to win those games? Your portraiture be damned. I’d rather fingerpaint Carrot myself than subject him to your presence.”
Whirling on her heel, Violet left Tristan staring after her in astonishment at the admission of subterfuge. She half expected to feel his hard grip on her elbow before she escaped, but he allowed her to flee.
The pang of disappointment stabbing her heart when he let her go infuriated her more than it should have.
Chapter 12
Rhythmic purring woke Violet.
Opening her eyes, she watched as the tiny kitten yawned before settling himself into a bundle of fur with front paws tucked neatly beneath his chest. His perch on the extra pillow placed him at eye level with Violet.
Carrot’s green eyes were little slits of contentment, the rumbling from his chest loud in the morning quiet. Laying on her side, Violet softly stroked the cat’s orange tabby fur, smiling when the purring increased in velocity.
“Cheeky thing. You were meant to sleep on the little bed I made for you in the corner.”
Carrot merely blinked, unconcerned with Violet’s admonishment.
“And now you’ve stolen a spot on my pillow, little thief.” She rubbed Carrot’s ears until his eyes closed in blissful appreciation.
Violet’s thoughts turned to Tristan as the kitten dozed off, and the prior evening’s events pushed to the forefront. The man appeared both amused and perplexed when she’d left him behind on the terrace.
But her own feelings regarding the entire incident greatly perplexed her. The flood of emotions. The desire suffusing her bloodstream. The sharp zing of excitement shooting through every nerve ending she possessed when he kissed her.
Her body’s involuntary reactions were alarming. How could Tristan’s fingers wreak such havoc? How could his mouth, his lips, ignite a fiery longing for more?
Thinking of such things made her restless. Achy. Confused.
With guarded hesitancy, Violet cupped her own breast in the same manner Tristan handled her. Brushing a thumb over her nipple, she mused that although the resulting tingle set her stomach aflutter, it could not match the dizzying rush of pleasure experienced when Tristan touched her.
Biting her lip at the very wickedness of her actions, she lightly pinched the aching bud, again mimicking Tristan’s actions.
From the flesh squeezed between thumb and forefinger, a bolt of lightning shot to the space between her thighs.
Violet whimpered, snatching her hand away as if her breast were a dangerous trap.
At the small sound of distress, Carrot’s eyes slit open. Unfurling, he stretched lazily, touching his nose to Violet’s with a questioning meow.
