Page 38 of Untaming Lady Violet
Drawing a finger across her cheek, Tristan replied softly, “How you surprise me. Only you would take my words at face value and make light of them.”
Setting the palate knife aside, he took her arms, stretching them above her head.
Curiosity sawed at Violet’s nerves.
What would Tristan do with her? It was all so mystifying and stomach-wrenching. Women simpered like besotted fools behind raised fans whenever he strolled past; the bolder ones pursued him. This might be her only chance at uncovering the mysteries of the viscount’s appeal.
You are one of those besotted fools, you know. The only difference being he never acknowledged your existence before now.
With a clench of her teeth, Violet resolutely ignored her inner voice, as well as the trickle of unease.
Tristan’s hand drifted from her face, down her throat, dipping in the hollow at its center, then further until his fingers finally brushed the upper swells of her breasts. Violet swallowed.
“I’m frightening you,” he murmured, almost sounding apologetic.
“No.”
“No? Perhaps there is a core of steel beneath all that innocence. But still, something concerns you, I think. Other than the threat of imminent ruination.” A sly grin dispelled the seriousness of his statement. He was toying with her, using that dark wit of his like a weapon.
Charm and disarm.Tristan was an absolute master in utilizing this particular strategy. Lord knew she was not immune to its effect.
Violet hesitated before deciding that honesty would serve her best. Besides, she could not hide with Tristan’s gaze boring into hers. The razor-like sharpness of his eyes prevented escape from all her insecurities.
“I do not resemble your customary female conquests, Longleigh.”
“No,” Tristan breathed, his hand moving to the section of dress covering her belly. “You certainly do not.”
Violet automatically sucked in, a feeble attempt at flattening her belly. “I do wish I were tall and willowy and slender of figure. Men prefer women to be so…”
Tristan’s hand halted in its unnerving exploration, his head tilting. “We do?”
“Yes. Women should be pleasing of figure and countenance. I must work harder at accomplishing both.”
“Stop. Don’t dare utter another word.” A muscle in Tristan’s square jaw ticked. “Whoever spouted such nonsense should dance from the gallows at Newgate.”
Violet bit her lip. “My parents have said …”
“Your parents are damned fools,” Tristan said abruptly. Taking Violet by the hand, he tugged her upright into a sitting position on the edge of the table. Cradling her face, he tilted her head back. “Listen to me, Violet, and listen well. You are perfect just as you are.”
When Violet tried looking away, Tristan wouldn’t allow it. “Beautiful. Sweet. Kind. Soft. Lush. Desirable.” His head bent until his lips brushed hers. “Touching you has become a need I cannot ignore.”
Violet’s heart tightened. Was this truly happening? She was so used to being overlooked by those around her. To be the focus of Tristan’s interest seemed stolen from a dream she would never dare admit aloud.
“It is the same for me, Tristan.” Her breath caught when his eyes flashed with her shy words. “I cannot think of anything other than you. How you make me feel when you kiss me. It is so improper, and yet I can’t help but hope …”
With leisurely intent, Tristan cut off the impromptu confession. Taking full possession of Violet’s mouth, he swallowed her moan of scandalized delight. He nibbled and sucked at her lips and tongue until she squirmed closer to him.
“Open your legs for me, kitten. Open, and I’ll give you a glimpse of paradise.” Tristan’s words slid in a seductive whisper along the curve of her ear. “Are you as soft as I’ve dreamed? Let me feel you on my fingertips. Let me touch you as I wish…”
Violet did not hesitate with indecision. Tristan asked. She complied. Her legs separated as far as her skirts would allow.
“There’s my brave, beautiful girl,” he crooned between greedy but somehow lazy kisses. “Hold tight to me. And do not let go.”
Was the world whirling away in slow motion? It seemed as if time was standing still while Violet spun in reckless abandonment. Every sensation was amplified, every nuance of her being so intensely attuned to Tristan it was overwhelming.
She smelled his cologne, sharp and woodsy. Felt the muscles of his shoulders flex and undulate when her fingernails dug slightly into the flesh. There was the roughness of his fingertips rasping over the edge of her stockings, the way his hand tightened and pressed harder when she silently granted permission that he could go even further.
And there was the minute exhale of wonderment that escaped Tristan’s lips when he encountered bare skin. He skimmed past the opening of her drawers to spear through the patch of curls. Parting her, he slowly traced the petals of her sex with silky-rough fingers.
