Violet Fire

by Jo Goodman

  “I thought at the very least they would draw comparisons.”

  Brandon was certain it had happened, just as certain that Shannon had not been the sister found wanting. It would be small comfort to Shannon now, and Brandon held his thought. “More likely they saw how happy I was and looked no further than that.”

  “And your happiness is all-important,” she said dryly.

  “Of course. Have I given you reason to think otherwise? That I cared so much as this”—he snapped his fingers—“for your feelings?”

  Shannon touched the back of his hand as it lay on her forearm. When she spoke, her tone was serious. “I’ve accused you of such these past weeks.”

  Brandon answered her in kind. “And I deserved it. I listened to your objections, your feelings, and in the end, did as I wanted. I know our wedding so soon after Aurora’s death offended your sensibilities. Dare I ask if you’ve forgiven me?”

  “I married you today, didn’t I? No matter that you think otherwise, I always had a choice. I could have left you.”

  “You don’t know how many times I wondered if you would. I told myself to be patient, even cautious, but I always knew I would never settle for anything less than your agreement to marry. Why didn’t you leave?”

  “I never said that leaving was a good choice,” she said. Shannon twisted her head and kissed the underside of Brandon’s jaw. “And there was Clara. I don’t think she would have understood if I had gone. Then Cody began making noises that he wanted to see us wed before he went away.” She felt him stiffen and sensed his hurt. “Dear, foolish man. I love Cody and Clara, but I love you more. You are the reason I stayed. The only reason.”

  His embrace tightened. “I needed to hear that,” he whispered fiercely. “God, how I needed it.”

  “I cannot believe you doubted the strength of my feelings.” It had never occurred to Shannon that Brandon might think she loved him less because of her objections to their hasty marriage. “I have loved you since—”

  “Since when?” he asked. “Do you know you’ve never told me?”

  Shannon turned in his arms until she was kneeling in front of him and placed her hands on his shoulders. She watched his eyes drop to her mouth, then raise almost immediately to meet her own. “It was the day I required rescuing from that greedy kite-eating tree. Do you recall? A certain gentleman risked all manner of injury to help me down. And when he reached the ground, he gallantly offered me protection against the folly of my mad leap.”

  “As I remember, you took me quite by surprise when you jumped.”

  She nodded, smiling at the memory. “And still you made certain that you took the brunt of my fall. I loved you then. I knew it when we lay there, catching our breath. No one before you ever thought to spare me pain before the fact.”

  “It may have been gratitude you felt then.”

  “No, it was love,” she said certainly. “I remember thinking how silly you looked. Your face was flushed, and my braid was lying across your eyes.” Shannon laughed as Brandon looked away in embarrassment at the image she created in his mind. She turned his face toward her with the tip of her finger. “You lifted my braid and stared at me. I thought my heart would stop beating. There was never any doubt that what I felt for you was love.”

  “How did I stare at you?”

  “Much in the way you are now.”

  “Has your heart stopped beating?” His smile had a certain wicked intent. Shannon raised his hand and laid it between her breasts. “I think not.”

  Brandon nodded gravely. He could feel the warmth of her skin through the thin lawn nightgown she wore. “A good thing. It would spoil what comes next.”

  “Oh? Pray, what is that?”

  “It is sweet innocence you feign, for I know you have not forgotten.”

  She pressed her brow against his forehead. “Conceited ass. You think highly of your loving, don’t you?”

  He grinned crookedly then slanted his mouth across hers, hungry for the taste of her lips. Shannon’s response was immediate, welcoming. Her fingers loosened the neckcloth at his throat and she touched the pulse beating in the cord of his neck. Her arms slipped over his shoulders as he began to stand. Without breaking the kiss, he managed to lift her, though there was a moment when Shannon stiffened, thinking she was about to fall. He raised his head long enough to admonish her for her lack of faith, then proceeded to kiss her quite thoroughly as he carried her to their bed.

  Shannon helped Brandon ease out of his ice-blue satin coat and undid the silver buttons on his waistcoat. Drawing his fine linen shirt over his head, she pressed kisses along the length of his collarbone. With a small flourish she dropped the shirt over the side of the bed, giving Brandon an arch, inviting look.

  “Witch. Clearly you have not forgotten how to proceed.” He kicked off his shoes and loosened the legs of his breeches so he could get rid of his hose. He sucked in his breath as Shannon undid the lacing of his breeches at his back and slipped her fingers between the material and his skin. He stood long enough to shuck the tight-fitting breeches and soft linen drawers before he fell back in bed with no encouragement from Shannon.

  “Eager?” she asked.

  “How did you know?”

  Her eyes dropped momentarily to his naked thighs. “It…er…it just occurred to me.”

  Brandon laughed, reaching across her to snuff the candles on the nightstand. The room held only the soft light from the fire. Shadows played across the bed, flickering over their bodies. “I think we should get rid of this shift.” He fingered the lacy edge of her bodice with a lazy air. “It’s a lovely garment. Inspiring, really.”

  “Inspiring?”

  “Mm-hmm.” His mouth touched her lips. “Intoxicating.” Brandon’s tongue whispered across the upper curve of her mouth. “Inflaming.” He drew close to the ear. “Inviting.”

  “Indeed,” she said wryly, only partially successful in stifling her giggle. Loving his silliness, his desire to put her at ease, she lifted her hips as Brandon tugged the gown past her thighs. “Martha will be happy her work on this piece wasn’t in vain.” Raising her arms, she allowed Brandon to pull the gauzy shift over her head.

  Brandon’s gaze slid over Shannon’s face, her shoulders, her breasts. “You are a piece of work,” he said softly. His hand stroked the inward curve of her waist; his thumb brushed her navel. He bent his head. “I love you, Shannon Kilmartin.”

  “Fleming,” she corrected him. “I’m Shannon Fleming now.”

  “I love her, too.” Brandon kissed her deeply as her mouth parted beneath his, his tongue playing against the pressure of hers. His hands slid up her rib cage and cupped the underside of her breasts. They welled slightly, filling his palms. Her skin was like velvet, soft and warm against his palms.

  Shannon stretched beneath Brandon. The sole of her foot massaged the back of his calf. She turned her head, arching her throat, and felt his mouth caress her cheek, her jaw. Her parted lips tendered kisses across his shoulder. Cupping his buttocks, Shannon pressed Brandon against her, reveling in the feel of his weight, the hard contours of his body flush to her own. Her hands stole between their bodies while her mouth found his. She swallowed the small groan of pleasure her hands excited from him.

  The edge of Brandon’s tongue flicked a trail to the base of her throat. He paused, feeling the warm pulse beating beneath his lips. The fragrance of her hair teased his senses as he buried his face in Shannon’s neck, nuzzling the curve of her shoulder.

  Shannon’s breath caught as she felt Brandon’s mouth whisper across the tip of her breast. At her faint murmur of encouragement he tugged on the nipple, stroking it to hardness with the tip of his tongue. Shannon moved with feline grace beneath his caress, feeling the play of muscles in his back. Her fingers threaded in the silky texture of Brandon’s hair. His head dipped to the hollow between her breasts, then his mouth traced a line to her navel. And lower.

  Shannon bit her lip, trapping a moan in her throat as tiny spa
rks of heat shot through her. Her flesh quivered in response to the pressure of Brandon’s mouth and tongue.

  Brandon felt the tension in her limbs. “Let me hear you,” he said. “I love to hear you.”

  Shannon gasped, giving Brandon the sound he wanted, the sounds of her pleasure. “I want you. Please.” The pads of her fingers pressed against his shoulders. “Now, Brandon. Don’t make me—”

  Brandon raised himself up, fitting Shannon’s thighs around him. His eyes darkened to obsidian as he searched Shannon’s face. She stared back at him, taking measure of the man she loved, the man he was. His expression had a certain fierce gentleness, skin stretched tautly over the clean, angular planes of his face, his mouth oddly loose and tender. He whispered his desire a moment before his lips covered hers, a moment before he filled her.

  Brandon stilled, cradling her hips in his large palms. It was Shannon who moved first, thrusting herself toward him until, with a low groan of pleasure, he joined her. Bodies rocking, cords of exquisite tension pulled on their limbs as flashes of heat shimmered through them. Shannon surrendered herself to her own needs, finding her desires were one with his. As pleasure shuddered through him, Brandon felt the imprint of her mouth against his neck, and the words of love she spoke made him more surely her captive than the circle of her arms, Splendidly replete in the aftermath of loving, Shannon turned on her side to face Brandon, propping herself on an elbow. With her free hand she feathered the hair at his temples. Brandon captured her fingers and pressed them to his mouth as a small shiver rippled through his frame. Shannon’s smile was gentle, and Brandon held it in his mind’s eye long after he had fallen asleep, keeping Shannon in the secure cradle of his arms and body.

  A glance at the clock on the mantel told Brandon he had slept more than two hours. He grinned sheepishly at Shannon, who was watching him, violet eyes partially hidden by her thick lashes. His abdomen contracted as the tips of Shannon’s nails slid over the flat planes of stomach. “Have you been awake all this time?” he asked, stilling her hand.

  “Most of it,” she admitted. “I’ve been watching you.”

  “Oh?”

  “Mm. You’re beautiful.”

  “Beautiful?” He wondered if she could see the flush creeping over his cheeks.

  “I thought so from the very first. And when you smiled, it quite set me back on my heels.”

  Brandon growled low in his throat and shifted his position until he lay partially on top of Shannon. “I’d like to set you back on your heels now.” A thorough kiss punctuated his statement.

  Shannon pushed at his shoulders. “Randy goat.”

  Sighing, Brandon fell on his back. “You wound me, spurning my advances thusly.”

  “Poor man.”

  “Not true,” he denied, rising up on one elbow.

  He studied her face, and when he spoke, his voice was deep with emotion. “I’m a rich man. A very rich man.” His gaze wandered from her mouth to her eyes. “You don’t regret our marriage, do you?”

  Shannon was struck by the uncertainty in his tone. “I thought you knew better. I regret nothing.”

  “I had hoped it would be so. I couldn’t have badgered you so shamelessly if I hadn’t hoped.”

  “And there was Parker,” she whispered, reluctant to mention the other reason Brandon had pressed for the hasty wedding.

  “Yes. There is Parker.”

  “Do you really believe he remains a threat?”

  “I must act as if it were true,” he said firmly.

  “Yet Sir James’s investigation yielded nothing.”

  They had been over this ground before, yet Brandon no longer felt the sense of impatience he had experienced previously. There was no urgency in his argument now, no need to convince her that her safety was at issue if she did not remain at the folly. Had there been no marriage, Shannon would have left soon to wait out a year of mourning in Williamsburg or perhaps Jamestown. What protection could he have offered her there? Indeed, there were moments that he wondered at his ability to protect her even now. “Neither did Sir James find anything to disprove my suspicions. I can think of no one who had anything to gain by your death except Parker. He would have had the folly if I had been found guilty of your murder. He would have seen that Aurora made it possible.”

  “Will we ever have proof, do you think? If it is as you say, then Parker killed my sister.”

  Brandon did not want to dwell on what form the proof might take. It was too easy to imagine that his half brother would demand additional revenge for his own mistakes. And Aurora’s death had been a mistake, Brandon thought, for her murder had only made Parker’s pursuit of the folly that much more difficult. “I don’t know,” he answered.

  “Parker told Sir James that Aurora left him. If that were true, then my sister’s accomplice may have been someone here.”

  Brandon had considered the same thing and dismissed it almost immediately. “Parker lies,” he said tersely.

  “So did Aurora,” she reminded him gently.

  He nodded. His palm stroked her naked shoulder and arm. “Are you frightened, Shannon?”

  “No.” She caught his penetrating eyes and amended her denial. “Sometimes. But not for myself. I’m afraid for you.”

  It was nothing less than he expected, and profoundly moved, he lifted her hand and placed it against his chest. “We could go away for a while. Travel. Daniel and Steven have often invited me to Boston.”

  “Do you mean it?”

  “Of course.”

  “But what of your responsibilities here?”

  “There is nothing that cannot be done by others for a time. We can leave after the New Year. Christmas is but a week away. I should like to celebrate it here.”

  Shannon wanted that also. “Clara will come with us, won’t she?”

  Brandon laughed. If Cody were not already leaving, she would probably want his company, too. “I never thought you would leave without her, though I hardly think it good form to take one’s child on one’s wedding trip.”

  “As if you care about good form.”

  One of Brandon’s brows arched lazily. “On occasion I care very much.”

  “I don’t think we are speaking of precisely the same thing,” she pointed out.

  “You are nothing if not astute.”

  Shannon murmured her agreement, sliding the sheet past Brandon’s hipbone. “I would be willing to pursue the topic on your mind.”

  “Oh? And what, pray, do you think is on my mind?”

  Shannon leaned over him and whispered in his ear.

  “Mrs. Fleming!” Brandon’s shock was only partially feigned. “Where did you learn—”

  “From you,” she said, blushing but meeting his eyes boldly. “You say that sometimes when we’re…er…” Her voice faltered.

  “I see,” he said, chuckling. “I rather think I should be more circumspect. I shouldn’t want you saying such things to any man.”

  “As if I would,” Shannon said huffily.

  Brandon gave her a playful swat on the behind. “That’s all right then.”

  Shannon swatted his thigh. “That’s all right then,” she mimicked.

  Brandon’s eyes widened. “Oh, madam, you have no idea what you have begun.”

  She didn’t, but declared herself willing to be taught. Later, much later, she declared herself well learned and well loved.

  * * *

  Cody’s departure the following day would have cast a pall over the folly if it were not for the approach of Christmas. Though his company was sorely missed, there were few occasions to dwell on his absence, and Shannon believed he had planned his leaving in just such a way. She knew, of course, that Cody had made arrangements with the Marchands prior to Aurora’s death, but he could have altered his plans in light of all that had happened. Instead he used his departure as an excuse to see his brother and Shannon wed. When he chose, he could be as persuasive and single-minded as Brandon. Shannon had confronted him with that fact a
nd Cody had denied it, insisting that Brandon was opinionated and pigheaded.

  “What are you smiling about?” Brandon asked, sliding up beside Shannon as she arranged a centerpiece of pinecones and holly on the dining room table.

  “Something Cody said about you.” She lightly slapped his hands away when they started to slip around her waist. The fine pink silk of her gown was no barrier to the pressure of his fingers. They felt warm, inviting her to think about the early morning loving they had indulged in before Clara bounded into their chamber with the strident reminder that it was Christmas Day.

  Brandon stared at his hands and tried to look suitably chastened while Shannon continued working. “And what did he say? Or is it a secret?” Before she could answer, he shook his head, thinking better of his question. “Never mind. I don’t want to know. I came to tell you that Clara is waiting—need I add impatiently?—in the drawing room. She would like to open her gifts. You did say that we might do so when we returned from church.”

  “We?” she asked solemnly. “Do I detect some anxiousness on your part as well?”

  His mouth quirked to one side. “I did notice something in there for me,” he admitted.

  Shannon quickly finished her arrangement. “Very well. I admit to some curiosity myself.” She let him escort her into the drawing room, where they surprised Clara gazing raptly at the gifts piled near the hearth. Even the flames from the traditional Yule log could not compete with the glow in Clara’s face. The room held the fragrance from the garlands of pine boughs that decorated the mantel. Beyond the large bay window the sky was gray, threatening rain, snow if it turned colder, but within the folly fires blazed and candlelit sconces burned brightly.

  Brandon plucked Clara off the floor, tickling her until her laughter trickled over him. “Shall we see what Father Christmas has left for my own sweet girl?”

  Shannon smiled at Clara’s eager nod. She sat on an ottoman while Brandon stretched out on the floor beside his daughter and handed Clara a gift from Cody. Her excitement quickly spilled over to Shannon and Brandon.