The words were like a balm to the ragged edges of his soul. Life came back into him in a rush, filling him up with her. Jacob was right. Sending her away would only hurt her, likely worse than keeping her with him. While he had manipulated her in the beginning like the others, he was the only one who actually cared about her feelings. He had done it to help her, even if it had helped himself.
He cupped her face between his hands and leaned forward to kiss her. She opened to him, touching his tongue with hers and taking control of the kiss in a way that both surprised and stirred him. His cock, already rigid at her nearness, swelled and thickened between them. Finally, he pulled back, unable to kiss her knowing that he couldn’t have more. He had neglected searching the village for a chemist and more rubber sheaths in the hopes their lack would help keep him honorable.
“Violet,” he groaned, holding her hips when she ground herself against him in an unconscious movement.
“I want you inside me again.” Her eyes were heavy with her need.
His hips bucked, and he used his grip on her hips to hold her as he pressed himself against her damp heat, his body once again at odds with his mind. It would be so easy to push his drawers and her nightdress aside.
“We can’t.” He kissed her chin to soften his words, and he couldn’t stop, his lips trailing across her jaw to the perfect shell of her ear. “We don’t have sheaths. But I can still give you pleasure.” He would give her endless nights of pleasure.
She reached between them, taking him in hand. “Then I suppose you’ll have to marry me.”
He froze. One look at her face and he knew she was serious. Her eyes were hopeful and slightly wary, as if she harbored a fear that he would reject her.
“Is that what you want?” he whispered, hardly able to believe it even though his disbelief made no sense.
“More than I’ve ever wanted anything.”
He let out a sound he didn’t recognize. Part joy, part relief. He held her against his chest as tight as he dared. She held him back, and in that moment he knew that whatever the future held, he would face it with her at his side. His hands roamed down her back to her arse, squeezing the globes until she moaned and leaned up, pulling at her nightdress in handfuls to get it off over her head. Her perfect breasts sat high on her chest, their nipples rigid. He sat up to get to her, holding her on his lap as he took one into his mouth, sucking deeply and drawing a gasp from her as she held his head to her breast.
Reaching between them, his fingers found her wet and sensitive to his touch. As he teased her clitoris between his thumb and forefinger, she bucked and moaned, her fingernails digging into the back of his neck. “Please, Christian, now.”
Setting her back slightly, he unfastened his drawers. Greedy in her need, she reached for him, squeezing him in a clasp that mimicked how her body would receive him. He groaned at the soul-shattering pleasure. He could never remember being this eager, this needful with anyone before.
“Guide me,” he said in a voice so heavy with desire he didn’t recognize it. Lifting her by her hips, he waited for her to notch him at her opening, then he slowly worked her onto him. Up and down, inch by inch, in a slow rhythm until her eager body accepted him and he slid into her fully. She was beautiful, her eyes squeezed tight in pleasure, gasps tumbling from her lips, flush stealing over her.
Pleasure radiated through him at the tight clasp of her body. This was Violet, the woman he loved. Somehow the knowledge put a finer edge on the sheer bliss of being flesh to flesh with a woman for the first time with no sheath between them. The sensation was nearly too raw and vivid to be borne. He knew he wouldn’t last. When all he wanted was to pound into her, he held himself still and teased her clitoris, working the swollen bit of flesh as she cried out, bouncing on him in her need.
“Show me how to please you.” Her voice was husky in her desperation.
She didn’t know that she did just that without even trying. “You’re perfect,” he whispered, her untutored movements driving him mad with pleasure. But still he waited to join her, teeth gritted in determination as he played with her until her hands tugged at his hair and her breath came in short pants, her orgasm nearly upon her. Only then did he grasp her by the hips and start fucking her the way he wanted.
“Violet,” he growled as the unbelievable pleasure took him over, prickling down his spine to where she clasped him so sweetly. She learned quickly, her hips working to meet his rhythm with each thrust into her.
She gasped in his ear, a soft hitch of pleasure that told him she was close. “Come for me,” he whispered, burying his nose in her hair so her scent surrounded him. Her fingernails pressed into his shoulders as she tensed, her passage clenching at him in spasms as she found her release. He let go of his control, holding her hips to receive him as he pumped into her over and over again until he exploded. Body and mind finally one, he cried out, certain that she had taken yet another part of his soul.
“I love you.” He held her against his heart as he struggled to catch his breath.
She pressed a kiss to his neck, tightening her hold. Even though he was spent, he was reluctant to leave her, and indeed was still lodged inside her, half-rigid in his insatiable need for her. He couldn’t stop pressing kisses to her face, the shell of her ear, her brow. This beautiful woman, with all her kindness and goodness, was his.
“When can we marry?” she whispered, pulling back just enough to smile up at him. He loved her smile. “I don’t want to wait another day.”
“As soon as you can travel we’ll go to Blythkirk. We can go by train if you want to hurry.” He grinned when she nodded at that. “We can be married when we arrive.”
Instead of appearing relieved, she frowned, a line of worry forming between her brows. “What if my father refuses to provide a settlement?”
“Do you think I care about that now?” He took her face between his hands and kissed her. “You’re enough for me, Violet.” He had been a fool to ever want more than her. “As long as you’re in my arms, I have all I need in the world.” Words he had never thought to utter in his entire life. Words that were truer than any he had ever spoken.
Chapter 20
The truth will set you free, but partial truth can burn you alive.
V. Lennox, An American and the London Season
The last two days had passed in a haze of sex and tenderness. Even the puffy white clouds that floated overhead reminded Violet of the hours spent with Christian in their tiny bedroom. One in particular appeared very phallic, while another could have been a single bosom tipped with a nipple. The very naughtiness of her thoughts made Violet blush as a smile broke across her face. She lay on a blanket outside with Christian after an alfresco meal of cheese and apples meant to celebrate her birthday. Mrs. Mitchell was baking a cake for the occasion, which they would enjoy that night, a final celebration before leaving for Scotland tomorrow. Christian had surprised her with a silver locket from the village that morning. He had said that he would get her something more suitable later, but that he hadn’t wanted her birthday to pass unmarked. She loved the locket and had pressed a tiny wildflower from the hillside within so that she could always remember this day.
“Your thoughts are debauched again, I see,” said Christian, dragging a finger down her neck to tease a circle on her skin around the locket.
She wore one of the gowns Jacob had brought her. Though not made for her, it fit well with her corset with only a few modifications. She had decided that today she should get dressed properly, if only to assure Christian that she was well enough to travel tomorrow. He seemed inclined to wait even longer before leaving, and as much as she loved lingering here in this village where the world was at bay and they were simply Christian and Violet, she knew that it was not possible. Very soon someone would find them. She wouldn’t be surprised if Max and August had returned, an eventuality that had caused her some grief in the last s
everal days. She should let them know she was fine.
“I would blame you entirely, but you should see what I’ve already written about Lord Lucifer.” She sat up and looked down at him.
He grinned. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you about your fascination with the chap.”
“Are you jealous?”
“Yes, I would have your lustful thoughts reserved for my own purposes.”
She laughed. “Am I not to be allowed to even admire another man? Is this what marriage is to you?”
His fingers twirled in an errant strand of hair the wind picked up and blew over her shoulder. She had left it down and tied back with a simple ribbon. “I suppose you can admire whom you like,” he said, grudgingly. “But I would have your lust to myself.”
Deciding to put him out of his misery, she said, “Then you will be happy to know that Lord Lucifer is none other than you. You and your devilish looks inspired him.”
The simple joy on his face sent her into a fit of laughter as she fell over him. Kissing him, she said, “You aren’t nearly as fearsome as you’d have others believe, you know.”
“Shh . . . don’t tell anyone.” But he pinched her bottom and would have tumbled her to her back had she not pulled free.
She had other things in mind right now. They had spent the hour before eating wading around the little brook that sloped through the hills beyond the Mitchells’ property. The rise meant they were just out of view from the house, but it would only take them a few minutes’ walk to return. His trouser leg had ridden up a bit to reveal his ankle. Pushing on his shoulder to keep him in place, she sat on her knees beside it.
“The swelling has reduced,” he said, watching her examine him with her eyes.
“Yes, I noticed your limp has improved with our recent bed rest.” She glanced up at him, a flutter of anticipation moving through her at the hooded wickedness in his eyes. She’d had him only that morning. Would this wanting him ever relent? She hoped not.
Gently and with reverence, she traced her fingertips over the scar that ran in a jagged pink line down his ankle. It started at the top of his foot and ran to just under his trousers. Tiny white dots of scar tissue framed it, likely left behind by the thick stitching needed to keep the wound closed. An ache welled within her as she imagined the pain it must have caused him.
“Will you tell me how it happened?”
His initial instinct was to refuse. The pulse of a muscle in his jaw and the shuttering of his gaze said as much. “It is not a pretty story.”
Covering the scar with her hand, she said, “I don’t need pretty stories.”
He stared at where she touched him and then nodded. “My father was active in Newmarket. He had several horses that he raced, and some that he bred to sell. One of his best studs was Bucephalus, so named because he was black with a white star on his brow and near impossible to tame, like Alexander the Great’s fabled animal. I still harbored illusions that I could win my father’s affection, so when he taunted me into riding him, I accepted the challenge. It was a challenge I lost.”
Imagining the sickening scene made her stomach churn with nausea. “What a ghastly thing to do. Dear God, how old were you?”
“Ten years. I was thrown and trampled against the fence. He told a groom to bind my ankle and went inside. A week later infection had set in and a physician was sent for. My father claimed it was because I was too weak, and I believed that for a while.”
“I’m sorry you had such a terrible father.” She wanted to hold the boy he had been and protect him from the monster. “You didn’t deserve that.” Leaning down, she kissed his scar and secretly wiped the tear from her lashes. He wouldn’t appreciate her pity, but her heart hurt for him.
“Violet.” He sat up and reached for her, drawing her into his arms. “It doesn’t matter. I believed him for a time, but I know he was wrong. It’s in the past.”
“You’re right. Now we can focus on our own family.”
He gave her a look of wonder, as if he hadn’t thought that far ahead yet, but he didn’t retreat as she thought he might. Instead, his eyes softened with affection and he kissed her. She climbed onto his lap and savored his mouth on hers. Her breath hitched as desire coiled in her belly, but there was no rush. They had days—no, years—of this ahead. When his mouth touched her neck, a shiver of longing teased along her skin.
“Violet!”
They both looked up. A man crested the hill, standing at the top to look down at them. She squinted and brought her hand up to shade her eyes. “Max,” she whispered, unable to believe he was here. Scrambling off Christian’s lap, she waved and hurried up the hill. “Max!”
Christian came to his feet slower and with considerably less enthusiasm. Max’s long-legged stride made him faster, so he met her near the bottom, pulling her into his arms in a hug as he swung her around.
“Ouch!” She twisted until he loosened his grip, easing the pressure on her ribs, but nothing could wipe the smile from her face at seeing him again. “What are you doing here?” She still couldn’t believe she wasn’t imagining him.
“Are you all right?” His brow furrowed as he took in the stitching and bruising on her head and face. His hand roved down her corset-clad ribs as if assessing her for injuries.
“Yes, I’m much better. There was a carriage accident, but as you can see, only a few scrapes.”
“I know about the accident.” His gaze, full of accusation and a fury she had missed in her earlier pleasure, swung to Christian.
It wasn’t until that moment that Violet realized how the whole thing must look to Max. He must think she had run off with Christian. Well, it actually wasn’t far from the truth, was it? She almost laughed at that, but Max was still serious and becoming angrier by the second.
“Did you meet the Mitchells? Aren’t they lovely? They’ve taken excellent care of us.” When he still hadn’t looked away from Christian, she moved between them to bring his attention back to her. “How did you find us?”
It effectively transferred the full force of his anger to her, which gave her pause. “We had no idea where you were, Violet. Lady Helena is the one who realized Leigh had disappeared at the same time you did.” Only then did she understand that it wasn’t anger he directed at her. It was fear. His eyes were bright with it. “We went to his estate in Scotland, and with no sign of you there, we had to backtrack through northern England. Thank God, we came across a newspaper. It said that a man suspected to be the Earl of Leigh had crashed his carriage, and a mysterious American had been in his company. We came directly here.”
Oh dear. It wasn’t good that there was already talk of them. “I know I should have made contact, but I couldn’t because I . . .”
“Because you were injured. Because of him.” His anger directed back at Christian, he walked around her, but she wouldn’t have it and moved with him. “You take her and then you allow this to happen to her!” he yelled at Christian.
Putting her hand on her brother’s chest, she said, “It wasn’t his fault, Max. Please calm down so we can discuss this.”
“Not his fault? Violet, he nearly got you killed.”
“It was an accident, and I am fine. Christian is the one who saved me.” She glanced behind her to see Christian standing silently, his hands in fists at his sides. He was so still that a warning rose within her. Something was wrong. She knew he still felt guilty and hated the way Max’s words must be landing like barbs in that guilt. “He was escorting me to Windermere. There had been days of rain, and a tree uprooted and hit the carriage. It was an accident.”
“Windermere?”
She nodded. “I was going there to a boardinghouse, to stay until I figured out what to do about Mother and Papa and Lord Ware. Christian saw me leave and was kind enough to offer me an escort.”
“Saw you leave? You didn’t plan to run off with him?”
>
“No.” She smiled, hoping to calm him down, hoping that if he understood there had been no elaborate scheme then he might relax. “He saw me outside the British Museum and stopped to offer his assistance.”
Max ran a hand through the hair at his temple, shaking his head as if he’d come to some great realization. Gesturing toward Christian, he said to Violet, “You misunderstand the motivation for his offer of assistance.” Max spoke through clenched teeth, and his gaze swung back to Christian. “He wanted to marry you. He never intended you to reach Windermere.”
“I know all that.” She patted his chest. “He confessed that his original intention was to escort me in the hopes he could convince me to marry him.”
“Did he convince you?”
“Before the accident? No, but in the last several days I have decided that I will marry him.” It wasn’t nearly how she was hoping to deliver the happy news, but with Lord Ware and her parents on his side, there likely wasn’t a happy way for all.
Incredulous, Max looked at her. “Oh, really? Then why are you on the road to Scotland now? I believe Windermere is southwest of here.”
She frowned, not entirely certain what he meant. A glance at Christian confirmed the guilt that slashed across his face. He spoke for the first time. “The turn off for Windermere was the morning of our accident. I had planned to ask you that night.” His voice had the solemn, resigned tones of a condemned man, which was not at all reassuring.
Turning back to her brother, she said, “A miscommunication. I would have said yes that night.” It was true, but the knowledge that he had anticipated her and reacted without her consent itched its way under her skin. She would confront him later about it in private, when Max wasn’t breathing his fiery anger on them.
“Do you think it was a happy accident that he found you in London that day when you left?” Max’s voice was heavy with insinuation, which caused her to take a few steps backward. Christian stood at her back, but he made no attempt to touch her, which was disconcerting.
The Devil and the Heiress Page 20