A Viscount for Violet: The Blooming Brides Book 4

by St. Clair, Ellie

  When she leaned her face into his touch, he raised his other hand so that he was cupping her cheeks, and then, so slowly it seemed nearly a dream, he leaned toward her, tilting her face up to his, until their lips softly brushed against one another — once, twice, and then as one they pressed into one another, the kiss deepened to one that was far more than affection.

  Violet’s heart nearly exploded with joy and exhilaration as her body longed to do the same. She lifted her arms to wrap them around Owen’s neck, and he responded by removing a hand from her face to encircle it around her waist and pull her up against him. His lips slanted over hers again and again, until she opened her mouth and he plundered that as well.

  Violet had never been kissed and had certainly never imagined it would be possible to be kissed like this. Owen seemed to know exactly what to do to allow her to feel incredibly and impossibly cherished.

  What seemed like mere moments later, yet in the same breath could have been hours, they broke away from one another. Violet was embarrassed by how fast her breath stole in and out, until she realized that Owen's was the same. She looked up, meeting his eyes as incredulity stole over her. For he seemed as affected as she was, his gaze befuddled. Was this always how a kiss affected one? Or was it Owen… or the two of them together? She hardly had words to explain her turmoil. She only knew she longed for it once more.

  “That was…” she began then shook her head, mute, unable to finish the sentence.

  “Perfect,” he finished, with a smile, and then took her hand, bringing it to his lips for a kiss. Violet didn’t think she would ever be the same again.

  9

  Owen knew he should be solely concentrating on his efforts of protecting Southwold and its people, particularly the inhabitants of the inn. Never had he had more purpose for which to offer his protection than now.

  Except that he could hardly think of anything but Violet Tavners.

  She was unlike any woman he had ever met before. She was quiet and unassuming, yet she held within her such a vast amount of knowledge, intelligence, and, it seemed, passion.

  He drew a deep breath. Women didn’t typically affect him so much. In fact, there wasn’t much of anything that usually ruffled him. He was the one others came to when they wanted sound judgment and sensible advice. He certainly was not the type to allow his heart to rule his head.

  He enjoyed women as much as any man, had made the casual acquaintance in the past, but never had Owen allowed himself to get close. For his work in this war was not conducive to having a wife at home waiting for him. He was barely ever there, for one thing, and for another, there was the simple fact that one day he might not return from a mission.

  Owen tipped his hat back on his head as he approached the inn. The day following his excursion with Violet, he had spent the morning with his newly formed militia once more, though his mind was elsewhere — it was back at the entrance to that path in the woods, with her.

  They had returned to the inn following that kiss, making easy conversation, with small, secret smiles sent back and forth. Owen had expected Violet to shy away from him following their kiss, but instead, she seemed rather enamored with the whole situation, which only called to him all the more.

  He wiped his forehead. It had been a long day. Most of the soldiers within the inn were already battle -weary and did not require much training, but their motivation was certainly lacking. They had assumed their fighting days were behind them.

  The local men… well, they were eager all right, but most of them hardly knew which side of the gun to point straight ahead.

  He pushed open the door to the inn, ready to sit down for a good meal and rest for a few hours before he would begin to keep watch for the night. His eyes were nearly closing following his lack of sleep over the previous two nights, and he almost walked into the back of a man standing in the middle of the foyer.

  “Excuse me,” he murmured, and the man turned to face him.

  “Careful now,” he said, and Owen raised his eyebrows. This must be someone new to the inn, but he didn’t look like any soldier Owen had ever seen. His clothing was crisp, clean, and of the latest fashions, though not of the most expensive cloths. His eyes ran up and down Owen’s well-worn pants and linen shirt, and Owen wanted to laugh at the fact that this man clearly thought himself to be his superior.

  “You must be new here,” Owen said, taking the higher road and holding out his hand. “Owen Ridlington.”

  The man eyed his calloused hand with distaste but finally took it, his hands soft and the shake limp.

  “Mr. Linus Anderson.”

  “What brings you to The Wild Rose Inn?” Owen asked, wary of the newcomer, as he typically would be no matter the circumstance, but particularly today.

  The man seemed to attempt to stand taller.

  “I will be running this inn fairly soon.”

  “Ah,” Owen said, remembering Elias Tavners’ announcement. His first thought was for Violet and what it would be like for her to work with such a man. “Then congratulations are in order.”

  “You are aware of my forthcoming marriage, then?”

  “Your marriage?” Owen asked, confused. “My apologies, but no. I was congratulating you as successor of the inn.”

  “Right, right,” Anderson said. “Well, with the inn comes a beautiful maiden. I am told I shall have the youngest as the other three have already been married off. They are all beauties, however, so that should not be an issue. In fact, I am looking forward to inspecting the woman.”

  A hard ball of jealous anger began to form in Owen’s stomach. Marriage to the youngest? Why was he speaking of her as though she were livestock? He certainly better not be talking about—

  But then he heard a noise from the room’s entrance, and he turned to find Violet standing within the doorway. Her violet eyes were wide in her ashen face as she took in the pair of them standing there. She had clearly heard Anderson’s words, but her gaze was upon Owen instead of the other man.

  “Violet,” he said, ignoring Anderson. “Is what he says true?”

  He saw her throat move as she swallowed, but she answered him.

  “Not exactly,” she said, her eyes now flicking over to Anderson. “It is… potentially an option.”

  Linus laughed. “Is that what you’ve been told? No, my dear. I am in need of a wife, and I was promised you. If your father would like someone to take over this inn, then I shall require your services as well.”

  “My services?” Violet squeaked.

  “Why, yes. I certainly can’t run this place myself. Were you not told the terms of the agreement?”

  Violet looked as though she was about to keel over. Owen was torn between the urge to move to her and hold her up or to run from the room and this town and never look back. He shouldn't be dallying with her as it was, but now with the knowledge that she could be promised to another...

  Elias Tavners chose that moment to finally walk into the foyer, and Violet stepped aside, allowing her father to greet Anderson as though he was his own long-lost child. Violet stepped back and over to Owen, looking up at him with desperate eyes.

  “Can we have a moment alone? Outside perhaps?”

  Owen bristled but gave a quick, firm nod, placing a hand at the small of her back, unable to prevent the twinge of affection when he felt her softness beneath the rough wool of her work dress.

  They stepped outside, the brilliant colors of the garden, the smell of the ocean spray, and the call of the birds bringing a temporary peace. Owen closed his eyes to allow the ire that Anderson’s presence brought forth to slowly seep away.

  “Owen,” Violet said, causing his eyes to open. Her plaintive look, her wide, pleading eyes in her round, pretty face called him to listen to her words. “What Linus said inside… that was not my understanding of the situation.”

  “Linus?” he questioned, raising an eyebrow at the use of his given name.

  “We knew one another as children, so that is what
I remember him as,” she explained with a heavy sigh. “I have not seen him in years. Before… a week ago, my father told me that he would like to see the inn pass on to Linus, and to solidify the arrangement, I was to marry him. I wasn’t sure if I would ever find a man who I could hold true affection for, or who would see me in equal light. I told my father that I would decide whether or not I would agree to such a thing after Linus arrived, once I had the opportunity to come to know him better. Apparently… that was not what Linus has agreed to.”

  She paused for a moment. “Or perhaps my father was simply placating me by telling me it was my decision to make when that was not the case at all.”

  Her eyes filled with tears, and Owen couldn’t help but allow his heart to go out to her, though his opinion of her father was lowering even further by the moment.

  “Why did you not tell me of him and this… arrangement?” he asked, attempting to keep emotion out of this conversation.

  “At first… well, I had no reason to. To be honest, I was somewhat embarrassed by the fact that this was apparently my only option for marriage. My sisters were able to marry for love, whereas I… well, my affections were so misplaced in the past that I doubted whether I would ever have the same opportunity.”

  She shifted her gaze downward, as though unable to meet his eyes, and all he could see were the gold streaks shining through her soft brown hair as he found himself without words.

  “Then you and I became close so suddenly. With everything else that was happening around us, I suppose I didn’t know how to bring it up, or even if I should.”

  Owen nodded, the sincerity of her words stirring him. “I understand.”

  “You do?” She looked back up at him, her luminous eyes shimmering with tears.

  “Of course,” he said with a shrug. “I am not an unreasonable man. Though the situation is rather…. unfortunate.”

  She made a noise that was half-laugh, half-sob, and then brought her hand to her mouth as though to cover it. “You could say so.”

  “What will you do?” he asked, pulling the brim of his hat lower over his face.

  “I have no idea.”

  It was certainly not the answer he was hoping to hear. Though if he were being honest with himself, what would he have her say? That she wanted to decline this Anderson fellow and be with him instead? He had nothing to offer her at this point in time except perhaps a promise for the possible future. And he could not ask her to wait for a day that might never come.

  But nor did he have it within him, at least at this very moment, to tell her to marry the man. Owen had not had much of a conversation with him, but from what he had witnessed, he wasn’t impressed.

  He stretched his hand out, palm facing up, toward Violet. She looked down at it for a moment before reaching out and placing her soft, small hand within his. He wrapped his fingers around it, for a moment simply marveling at the difference between the two of them. He looked back up at her with what he hoped was an encouraging smile.

  “There is much to be resolved,” he said softly. “We will first worry about your safety and that of all at the inn, and by then you should know what to do about your Mr. Anderson. Tell me, do you love this place?”

  “It is home,” was all she said. “It is all I know.”

  She had not answered his question, but he let it go and instead simply squeezed her hand. “Whether or not you remain here, let’s keep this place safe for now. I wonder if Mr. Anderson is aware—”

  “Just what do you mean by dangerous situation?” The angry bellow came from inside of the inn, and Owen chuckled.

  “It seems he knows of the threat now. Come, we best go see whether or not he will be staying, and if the man knows how to defend himself.”

  Violet nodded, steeled her shoulders, and led him inside. It took everything within him to release her hand and let her go.

  10

  Linus did not take the news well.

  Violet entered her family’s sitting room with Owen’s comforting presence behind her as her apparent intended paced back and forth in front of the chesterfield upon which her mother, father, and Daisy sat. Iris was sitting upon a chair across from them, a smirk on her face, while the Duke of Greenwich and Lord Westwood looked like handsome bookends as they leaned against each side of the hearth.

  “You mean to tell me,” Linus ranted, his arms waving in front of him, “That this inn has been used by soldiers for the past number of months, and because of your foolish decision, it is now in danger from the French?”

  “Now see here, lad,” Elias said, rising, “You are here because you are taking over the inn from me. You are not here to question my decisions, past or present. We have been well compensated by the Crown to house these men.”

  “Where has that money gone? And why, then, did you require funds from my father?” Linus questioned.

  Dark crimson seeped into Elias’ face. Violet bit her lip. She had never questioned financial matters directly to her father, but she wondered herself where the income had gone.

  “To improvements,” Elias responded, and Linus looked about the room, his arms still flailing about him.

  “Certainly not in these quarters. Why, this looks like the same furniture that was already outdated when I was a boy.”

  Violet’s mother looked quite insulted, but her father raised a hand in front of her to still whatever words might emerge and answered Linus instead.

  “Of course not. Improvements were in the guest quarters.”

  Anyone who had seen the guest quarters would know that not to be true, but now was not the time to enter into this conversation, though Violet didn’t miss the look of disbelief that passed between her brothers-in-law, both who had resided there for a time.

  “Very well. But now you tell me that things have gotten to the point in which we require a militia?”

  “Oh, I wouldn’t call it by such a formal name,” Elias said. “A few men to protect the inn, just in case one disgruntled spy takes it upon himself to return here.”

  “My God,” Linus said, looking stunned as he finally took a seat in the chair next to Iris.

  Owen took that moment to make his presence known, as he stepped around Violet and more fully into the room

  “I do hope you will join our mil— our effort,” he said. “We meet daily in the mornings in the meadow just beyond the inn. The men each take a turn to act as a lookout at various posts.”

  Linus simply stared at him. “Who are you again?”

  “Owen Ridlington. I fight for the English Crown, and I am here to ensure the protection of The Wild Rose Inn and all of its inhabitants.”

  “I see,” Linus said, though he made no promise to contribute to such protection. “I require a good meal and a good night’s sleep to process all of this. When is dinner served? I will eat with the family.”

  “We eat after our guests are served,” Daisy said, and Linus snorted.

  “Very well. Tonight, then, I will eat with the guests.”

  Violet’s line of vision was toward her brothers-in-law, and they looked as unimpressed with Linus as she was beginning to feel. She couldn’t imagine what Owen thought of him. Here he was, a viscount who continually risked his life when he had no need to do so, while Linus couldn’t bring himself to eat a late dinner, let alone join the other men who had willingly volunteered to protect what would soon be his.

  Linus began to stride from the room when he noticed Violet standing there, just within the doorway. As his gaze fixed on her, Owen must have noted it too, for he tensed and his face froze in rigid dislike.

  “Tavners,” Linus said, addressing Violet’s father, though he didn’t turn from her. “Tomorrow, we should discuss our… arrangement, if you please.”

  “Very well,” Elias said, though his voice was weary, and Violet shivered when Linus looked her up and down.

  “Would you show me to my room, Violet?”

  “Violet must prepare dinner,” Iris interjected before Violet had a c
hance to reply. “I will show you.”

  Violet didn’t think she had ever been more grateful to her sister, though she was somewhat surprised at her offer. Iris gave her a grim smile on her way out of the room. Clearly, she was not much enamored of Linus either. He hadn’t been here long, but when Iris made up her mind about a person, it was difficult to change it. And she was seldom wrong.

  As Linus stepped past her with one long final look, Violet couldn’t help but compare him to Owen, who stood there stoically. Owen, who was willing to risk all for people he didn’t know. Who gave up a life of leisure to serve his country. Who never seemed to waver from his beliefs or values in what was right and good.

  And then Linus had come in here, questioning her father’s actions, which were admirable, besides the fact that he likely had his own somewhat greedy motivations in mind.

  Violet was no reader of people like Iris, but from what she had seen so far… could she really marry a man like Linus?

  * * *

  Owen could hardly believe that Violet would even consider marrying the pest that was Linus Anderson. Surely, she must have more self-respect than to think she would have to resign herself with a man like him? Why, the first mention of any danger and he was ready to hide in his room until the threat was gone.

  But if this inn was truly what she wanted in life, if this was what she imagined true happiness to be… then so be it.

  Owen lay down on the sagging mattress that was really the only furniture in the room aside from the washbasin and dresser of drawers that had seen better days. The room was certainly clean and serviceable, but he could tell firsthand that no investment into it had been made for some time.

  Not that he minded. While he had slept in much better conditions, he had also slept in much worse.

  Ah, Violet. He sighed. Pretty, whimsical, Violet. He had thought she would be a romantic, with all of her notions from her books, but damn Comtois had robbed her of those dreams for her own self.