Soon she was wearing nothing but her corset, chemise, and stockings, lying across the bed while he towered, shirtless, above her, his handsome face focused intently upon her as if she were the most prized morsel he’d hunted all day.
“How do you plan to explain our first meeting to your aunt, my Lord?” Violet asked, smiling up at him, her dark ringlets charmingly framed against the white pillows. “We’ve not much we can be truthful about.”
“Damn the truth, my fair wench. I don’t care what story you want to concoct. All I’m interested in is ravishing you this very moment.”
She murmured a muffled agreement into his neck as he swooped upon her, his hand skimming the length of one thigh and rucking up her lawn petticoat at the same time. When it arrived at the juncture of her legs, she was wet with wanting, curling into him as she worked the buttons of his trousers.
“And I want you naked so I can see you,” she whispered when she found her voice. “And feel you.”
His touch was as sweet as it was achingly sensual. Violet had never been moved by intimacy with a man. Until now. She’d fancied herself in love before, but her initiation to lovemaking had been brief and disappointing. What followed had been even more disheartening and, after that, nothing but a series of charades.
This was real.
He pulled her against him when he was unashamedly naked, deftly unlacing her corset, whisking off her chemise, then burying his head between her breasts. Breathing her in deeply, he contoured her curves, his large, warm, gentle hands quickly finding the nub of her desire.
“So, this is where you like it?” he whispered, sliding his fingers through its moistness, causing Violet to shudder. “My sweet Violet, I am your slave.”
“Just keep doing what you’re doing,” she returned, her body feeling boneless yet at the same time a seething mass of sensation.
She kissed the top of his head as he bent to his work. Burying her face in his light-brown curls, she surrendered herself completely, for the first time ever, to a man’s tender ministrations.
For he was as tender as he was passionate, his hands smoothing her skin, fingers working their magic, bringing her to an ever-heightened awareness of what it was to truly feel the need of a man. And she pleasured herself through the mere touch of him, tracing his bones, his muscles, circling his nipples like they were delicate shells, skimming her hands over his flanks until she could grasp his rod, causing him to sink into the mattress on a groan.
“You are quite magnificent, sweet Violet, and I want you now.”
“Then you shall have me,” she vowed, wriggling over him, fusing her hips to his before he flipped her onto her back and loomed over her.
In the dim light, his eyes glowed and his mouth curved. “Are we ready for this?” he asked on a low rumble of a laugh as she shivered to feel the tip of his manhood seeking her entrance.
“As ready as you clearly are,” she responded on a gurgle of happiness as she gave a little wriggle, inviting him in further.
Without another word, Max plunged into her in one smooth stroke, and Violet gasped her delight, and shuddered with excitement as she hooked her legs around his waist, wanting more than anything in that moment to be as one and to feel as one, as close and melded with another human being as was possible.
She’d been on the brink when he’d entered her, but his increasingly rapid thrusts sent her brain into a whirl of wicked pleasure, and her body into a morass of eternally damning ectasy so that her climax was beyond anything she could have imagined.
With a cry of delight, she shattered around him, her arms binding him to her as he collapsed with a groan of ecstasy, rolling over her so he didn’t crush her.
“By gad, Violet, now that was the best tupping I’ve ever enjoyed!” His laugh was unrestrained as he squeezed her affectionately. “I feel like I’m going to die of pleasure.” His breathing was rapid; his skin hot and slick with sweat. “Please, don’t talk to me for a few minutes while I regain my strength. I think I’m going to want to do this all over again, very soon.”
Obediently, Violet lay in silence, smiling at the ceiling, her body humming with contentment while the comforting warmth of Max’s body seeped into her like a life-generating mantle of safety.
“We really should get down to business and discuss what we’re going to tell your aunt,” she said with real regret after a few minutes, sitting up and stroking his chest as she smiled down at him. “I’m going to have to leave you sooner than I’d like.”
“Really?” He looked appalled. “You have to go?”
“In half an hour, I do. And it really is very important that we both decide how you’re going to ask me to marry you.” She bit her lips together to suppress the mirth that was ready to escape, even as he realised what she meant.
“My, my, but you’re a funny girl, Violet,” he chided, raising an eyebrow. “A clever one too, as I’ve already said—so I think I hardly need to remind you that this is all a charade.”
“A charade? Did I not give satisfaction, my Lord?” she asked with mock indignation. “Did you not enjoy my willing wantonness and my clever moves as much as last time? After what you said just now?”
“Do stop, my dear. I enjoyed it far too much for a man aspiring to a measure of chivalry, and I’d be too aggrieved to think that you, in fact, were only pretending to please me and to be pleased.”
“It was all genuine enough.” She sighed, running her hands over his chest. “Unfortunately. For I could think of nothing nicer than to do this with you on a very regular basis. But I’m not the hopeless romantic your aunt is. Experience has made me pragmatic, and so I will simply appreciate the next three weeks until I must farewell you to Africa and hope you’ll remember me when you return.”
He sat up and stroked her hair, tidying a ringlet by smoothing it around his finger. “What a gem you are, Violet. All right then, how would I ask you to marry me?” He was softly stroking her breasts as he murmured this. Then gently spanning her waist with his hands as he moved her off the bed and onto the floor where they stood, naked, face to face.
“I think there should be an orchestra playing,” he said, as he raised one hand to her shoulder, the other still round her waist. “A gentle waltz should be playing in the background and your—” He broke off, adding, “Yes; your head would be resting against my chest, just like that, as we circled the floor, the scent of summer drifting through the open French doors. And I’d look down at you and whisper, ‘Violet, I don’t think I can live without you. Will you marry me?’ ”
Violet raised her head to look at him. She knew her eyes were moist, and she didn’t care. She raised her hand to touch his cheek. “I’ve known that for a long time, darling,” she whispered. “I’ve just been waiting.” She sighed, shaking herself back to reality as she managed a watery smile. “There, that should satisfy your aunt.”
For a moment, he was silent. “Yes, it should.” His tone was sober as he took her hand and led her to the sofa by the fire, dragging the counterpane from the bed to cover them both as they sank down onto the velvet.
He took both her hands in his. “How did you come by this way of life?” he asked.
Caught by surprise, Violet gave a short laugh. “We don’t want to mix fact with fiction here, Max. Let’s just concoct our fantasy for your aunt’s sake. That way we’ll not run the risk of being exposed.”
He gave a half nod. “I suppose you’re right.”
“So, now that you know how you asked me to marry you, how did you meet me? When did you fall in love with me?”
He sent her a mischievous smile. “I’ll confess to being as big a romantic as Aunt Euphemia. When did I meet you? When did I know I was in love with you? Why, like you, lovely Violet, it was love at first sight. Yes, I fell in love with you the moment I set eyes on you.”
“And where did you set eyes on me?”
He squinted at her. “You’re testing me, aren’t you? You’ve already told Aunt Euphemia, and you told me too.�
�� He raised his eyes to the ceiling, thinking. “You worked in a shop. A haberdasher’s. Yes! And I stepped over the threshold looking for gentleman’s handkerchiefs and was served by you. The most stunning creature I’d ever laid eyes upon.”
“Aren’t you sweet, darling.”
“I do like the way that rolls off your tongue.”
“The way what rolls off my tongue?”
“The endearment. And a great many other things. Are you sure you don’t have time for another—?”
“I wish! But no, Max.” Violet rose, gripping the counterpane against her chest and taking a few steps away, turning to cast an incisive look at the evidence of his desire. “My Lord, but you are magnificently endowed. It has been a pleasure!”
With a shout of laughter, Max leapt up and snatched the counterpane from her grasp, whisked her into his arms and carried her to the bed.
“What can’t we achieve together, and in five minutes?” he growled, dropping her onto the mattress and caging her body with his. “Do say yes, my darling.”
“Yes, yes, and yes!” she cried, her heated body so ready for his frenzied kisses. “I think I’d say yes to anything you asked of me—but I think you also know that.”
“All I know is that you’re the most delightful morsel I’ve ever tasted,” he responded, coming up from between her legs and kissing her roundly on the mouth. “Now, let round two begin! I honestly don’t think I can get enough of you! Yet, alas, this will be our last time engaging in such sport if I’ve an ounce of chivalry in my bones.”
Chapter 6
In her cosy sitting room, Aunt Euphemia gazed fondly at Max who, with a great deal of throat clearing, said the words he knew she’d been wanting to hear.
He knew she wanted to hear them because she’d said only several nights earlier, “Darling Max, nothing could make me happier than for me to receive the news that you had in fact asked the girl of your heart to become your wife.”
Clapping her hands together now, she rose and swept across the room to enfold him in her violet-scented embrace.
The cool of her cheek was a well-remembered comfort, but the violet scent sparked a new emotion to life. He must remember to buy Violet both flowers and scent to honour her name. She’d like that.
“Your cousin Emma will be overjoyed for she has just as soft a heart as I do.” Then, more gravely, “Your grandfather will come around when he realises how much further a man can go with a good woman by his side. Regardless of her origins. And that’s what a match of the heart will promote. Harmony which leads to success. A marriage should not be restricted by pecuniary considerations.”
“Did you not agree that grandfather should be kept in the dark until the deed is done, Aunt?” Max patted her hand and led her back to her seat. Lowering himself into a wingback chair opposite, he said over steepled fingers, “Truly, I would beg you to keep this in the strictest confidence.”
“Oh Max, you’re going to elope? No, please don’t say it?” Aunt Euphemia’s face dropped. “Why, the poor young woman will suffer terribly from the shame of it. She’ll miss all the joy of planning the most joyous occasion of her life. Believe me, I know this from my heart.”
“I think my Violet is somewhat different to you, Aunt, but I will bear it in mind. The young lady is an orphan…” he had to think quickly about this “…and earns her living through her own means—”
Aunt Euphemia cut him off, clicking her tongue as she sympathised. “An orphan? How tragic! And she works in a haberdashery. What hard work that must be, but I would have done it rather than lived my life alone as a spinster. Still, I can provide what others cannot, and it would be a pleasure.” The enthusiasm returned to her tone. “I want to take her shopping, Max. I’ll buy her a wedding gown and her trousseau. If she’s the girl who has stolen your heart, then she’s as dear to me as my own daughter would have been.”
Her lip trembled as she dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief. She looked small and frail seated on the cream chintz sofa of the femininely decorated private sitting room in Lord Granville’s townhouse that Max always thought so crowded during his grandfather’s rare visits to the city.
Squaring her shoulders, a crafty light stole into her expression, and she clapped her hands. “Indeed, let’s tell her this very minute! Come, Max. We’ll go to her place of employ and surprise her!”
“Dear Aunt, she’s…working. Or resting,” Max added beneath his breath. “We cannot disturb her now. I think she would be embarrassed.”
“Then we shall go immediately to her place of abode so I might leave a note, myself. I want to know this young lady, Max. I don’t have long; you remember. What do I care for proprieties?”
A little more than you might think if the truth were revealed, thought Max, who only said, unconvincingly, “We will send a note round, shall we?”
“We shall get into the carriage this moment, Max, and find her. She’s not a slave to these people she works for, surely? No, I can’t wait a moment longer.”
Max, who thought this could only go badly, was astonished by the results of the hastily scrawled note he’d sent ahead with his manservant, Baines.
While he was delaying his aunt as best he could, he had thrust his note into Baines’s hand and hissed that he must discreetly forward the letter to its recipient and Max would explain everything at the first opportunity.
But here was Miss Lilywhite smiling serenely at them from a table at the Lyons Teahouse, presenting herself as she no doubt had presented herself to his aunt, in a modest skirt and blouse which made her look every inch the smart shop girl Aunt Euphemia imagined her to be.
“Why, I told Max you’d come rushing to meet us at the first opportunity,” his aunt said as if she could take all the credit. With a satisfied look at Max, then Violet, she said majestically, “The perfect pair. Handsome. Made for each other.”
And then she proceeded to tell Violet her plans for the next two weeks, leading up to the secret wedding Max had proposed, embellishing it with all the details Max knew would occupy her with the greatest pleasure.
“What do you think of all this, Max darling?”
Max reacted to Violet’s question with a guilty jolt. What he’d really been thinking was how deliciously desirable Violet looked in her neat black suit. A siren dressed up as a lady of demure disposition, and only he knew it. It made him feel supremely fortunate.
Instead, he murmured, “I was thinking how beautiful you looked,” as he reached across the table for her hand.
Amused, he saw the colour creep into her cheeks as she bent her head.
Aunt Euphemia sighed. “Why, the pair of you are quite delightful. And to think, Max, that I had no idea marriage with Mabel was simply an act of duty.”
Violet flashed him a wicked smile. “Max is the most dutiful man I’ve ever met, Miss Thistlethwaite. Honourable, dutiful, and quite the handsomest man of my acquaintance. Believe me, I see many in my line of work.”
Max blinked as his aunt murmured, “I’m sure you do. I’ve heard gentlemen can be most exacting when they’re after for something in particular.”
“Very,” agreed Violet. She smiled. “I’ve learnt to be patient.” She sighed. “But Max was not difficult at all. That’s why I fell in love with him.”
The way they were both looking at him as if he were an Adonis in terms of moral virtue, as well as physical attributes, made him realise the need to put an end to it.
“Please, Violet, I think you’re doing it a little too brown.”
“Goodness no, Max! You’re simply too modest.” She reined in her amusement and pushed back her shoulders. “But what do you really think of all this, Max? Your aunt is proposing to expend a great deal of money on me. I have nothing to contribute other than my company on the myriad exploits she’s just outlined. I’m beyond gratified, but I do think perhaps her generosity is beyond what is—”
“No, no, my dear, nothing would give me more pleasure!” Miss Thistlethwaite protested.
&nb
sp; Gently, Max patted Violet’s wrist. “No one will think any the worse of you for accepting what is given with the greatest of good hearts.” The fondness in his smile was as much for his aunt as it was for Violet. “Now, I believe you two ladies have some shopping to do while I have some plans to make regarding our wedding tour. Venice, my love? What could be more romantic? Indulge Aunt Euphemia and you’ll be indulging me. I think you’ll find her enjoyment fully equal to yours throughout this venture.”
Except that Violet was wise enough to know her enjoyment would be fast evaporating as the execution of their little charade for Miss Thistlethwaite’s benefit reached its conclusion.
Still, she’d not lied when she’d told Max that a healthy pragmatism had helped her through life, though she did feel guilty as she waited for Miss Thistlethwaite at the entrance to what was supposedly London’s most fashionable modiste.
Her guilt was only exacerbated by the genuine pleasure in her new benefactress’s expression, as Miss Thistlethwaite extended an arm in welcome before gesturing Violet to accompany her up the stairs to the studio of ‘a French woman of the greatest discernment.’
Violet couldn’t help but draw an uncomfortable parallel. Madame Chambon considered herself such a personage, but the tall, elegant French modiste who briskly attended to Violet’s measurements was a league apart from the gross creature who directed Violet’s life.
Still, how wonderful it was to forget all that for a few moments as she held out her arms so that the guipure-lace sleeves might be fitted to the tight princess-line bodice in a manner that would do justice to ’Miss Lilywhite’s perfect form,’ while Miss Thistlethwaite offered an enthusiastic commentary from the Chippendale chair that had been arranged for her beneath an arched window.
“Of course, you must decide exactly how the gown shall look. Pay no mind to the fact I’m paying for it. Too vulgar to put that into words. However, when I was planning my own wedding gown after Richard offered so gallantly, I chose…”
Fair Cyprians of London Boxset: Books 1-5: Five passionate Victorian Romances Page 53