by Dayna Quince
Weirick tossed another glass of whisky down his throat as he stood before the fire in his chamber, watching the mantle clock tick away the seconds before Violet arrived. If she arrived. Perhaps she realized the grave mistake she was about to make and changed her mind?
After the waltz, Weirick had disappeared. The ball was a success, and Weirick had exhausted his patience for the next eternity. No one would notice his absence, not with Roderick there to entertain them. From the solitude of his study, he’d waited for the last carriage to depart before heading to his room and preparing for Violet.
Weirick hadn’t been with a virgin since he himself was one. He didn’t know what she would need, or how to calm any fears she might have should she arrive. He’d already been waiting for over an hour. The dozens of candles he arranged around the chamber would not last much longer. He stared at the panel door, willing it open.
It didn’t.
Cursing, he threw off his robe, the sweltering heat of the room becoming unbearable, and blew out the candles. Naked, he stalked to the windows and threw open the curtains. The windows themselves didn’t open, but being near them soothed his burning flesh. He pressed his forehead against the cool glass and listened to the gentle patter of rain.
He didn’t hear the door, but he sensed her. He lifted his head and watched her slowly come to him, untying her dressing gown and dropping it to the floor.
She was naked, the darkness painting her with shadows.
He wanted to weep. He drew breath into lungs that did not expand, his heart twisting in his chest. He licked his lips to moisten his mouth, greedily memorizing her body. She looked like a dream, one of the many he’d had while she was here.
Suddenly, he couldn’t remember why he didn’t want her here. This was where she belonged.
She stepped into his arms, her bare skin setting him on fire. He took her mouth in a savage kiss, cursing himself as every concerned and controlled thought he’d planned for this moment evaporated. He picked her up, carrying her to the bed, wishing he hadn’t blown out the candles. Perhaps it was better this way. She wouldn’t be able to see how she affected him, how the very sight of her made him want to move mountains, to change for her, to be everything she needed, everything she could ever want and desire. But those things were futile. Weirick was incapable of change. The thought alone turned him cold on the inside. He pulled away after he set her down, the fire in him dying as he imprinted the image of her on his brain. His Violet.
But she would never be his, and she needed to understand that. Before this went any further.
“Violet, you—” His throat closed. He swallowed and tried again.
“You understand what you have agreed to?”
She pushed up to her elbows. “Yes.”
Weirick bit back a groan at the sight of her breasts pushed into the air. He grabbed fistfuls of coverlet to stop himself from reaching for her.
“I won’t marry you, Violet. I can’t.”
“I know,” she said. But he could hear the hurt, the disappointment.
“Don’t do this,” he begged.
She pushed to her knees, reaching for him at the edge of the bed. “Weirick, I must. Don’t you understand?”
“No, Violet.” He turned away, fighting the urge to climb up on the bed, to plunder her.
“Weirick, please. Don’t turn away from me. Look at me.”
“I don’t know what I’ll do if I look at you.”
Violet took a deep breath. It was now or never. She would give him everything, every part of her, and she may get nothing in return. The reward was great enough for the risk. She had to tell him, no matter the cost. She could not leave here without telling him. “I love you, Weirick. I’ve loved you for so long, first in my dreams, and then in reality. No one could compare to you. I tried to be rational, told myself a hundred thousand times it wasn’t real, but all it took was one look from you, one kiss, and I knew I’d never love another man. It was real, my love was always real.”
Weirick’s knees grew weak, and he grabbed the bed to catch himself. It would have been less painful if she’d run him through with one of the many dulled swords adorning the castle walls. Her arms came around him, and she pressed herself to his back.
“Please,” she begged him, her voice as soft and sweet and dangerous as poison. Her warmth seeped into him, infecting him with her love. Damn it, he could feel it. It splintered through him like lighting, piercing the darkest parts of him. He could hear rumbling all around him, filling his ears and mind—no, it was thunder. He looked to the window, just as lightning lit the sky. He gathered the last of his willpower and turned to face her, bringing his hands to cradle her face. He brushed his thumb over her bottom lip.
“Sweet Violet.”
She kissed his thumb and it nearly undid him. He took a breath, his heart pounding. “There is no going back. This won’t change me. I will never be the man you need. I will leave and never return. Whatever happens after tonight, you will bear alone. Do you understand, Violet?”
Her eyes glistened and she nodded. “One night with you.”
“You’ll regret this tomorrow but for tonight, your mine.” He growled the last words, the rush of blood to his groin so acute, it pained him as he pressed her back onto the bed but didn’t join her. He parted her legs, his eyes devouring her as he bent over her, tasting the nectar of her core. He’d been dreaming of doing this since their last night together. Once he’d shown her the glory of her breasts, she was eager to learn all the delights of her body. Tonight, he’d hold nothing back. She wanted all of him, well, here he was. A ruthless lover.
His tongue danced over her sensitive flesh, lighting fires inside her that would burn for days. He teased her bud with his tongue, while stroking the velvety opening of her body. Her hips bucked for more, wanting more. He would oblige, after all, this was only the appetizer for him. He pushed two fingers into her liquid heat, stretching her. She was ready, and so trusting and vulnerable to him. He could do whatever he wanted. Prickles spread over his back as the sky cracked and rumbled again. His hands shook as he looked up at her. Her head was thrown back, her eyes closed. He pressed his eyes closed and climbed onto the bed.
She’d said she loved him, and he knew it was true. He was going to use her, ruin her, and to refuse her would hurt her just as much. Fear and anger tore him in two.
“Move back on the bed.” The words came out harsher than he intended. His control was slipping. His head and body warred; he wanted her, his body hungered for her, but in his head and his heart—if he was being honest with himself—he knew he was going to hurt her, just like all the others in his life. Regrets filtered through his mind like sand through his fingers, even as he prowled over her, adoring her with his eyes and his hands. He laid her back against the pillows and the sight angered him. This would hurt him too. He clenched his teeth, closing his eyes as he covered her body with his, nipping at her lips.
“Last chance, Violet.” His throat tightened.
“I love you,” she whispered against his neck.
The words entered him like a knife, slipped between his ribs, straight into his heart. He sheathed himself in one stroke. She tensed beneath him, a squeak slipping past her clenched teeth, her eyes screwed shut. He watched a single tear pool in the corner of her eye. Weirick couldn’t move. This was her doing. She was a damn fool to expect mercy from a man like him. He was cold. He had a warm, lush body underneath him and all he could feel was… Hatred.
He hated himself. She wanted him, waited for him, and now he would ruin her forever. The coldness of his self-loathing wrapped around his heart and squeezed. It wasn’t her fault, he knew. He’d once had dreams too. For the first time in a long time, he believed in someone. He believed she loved him.
The icy vice around his heart eased. He could do this for her—one night—for just this moment, neither of them had to hurt. If she could let go and trust him completely, he could give her this night, this memory to cherish. He could
make this good for her. He could spare her the loathing and self-flagellation he suffered from the loss of those dreams.
He lowered onto her, her breathing hitching as their torsos came together. Her tears spilled over her cheek and he kissed them away. If there was any tenderness left inside him, he would give it to her. “Sweet, Violet. I can make it good. It’s the only good I’m capable of.” He held her face and kissed her lips, gently at first then firmly. Her lips intoxicated him. The cold inside him gave way to wisps of warmth, and his hips itched to buck but he remained still. She softened beneath him, little by little, as he chased her falling tears with kisses. Her eyes fluttered open, sparkling in the candlelight.
He took her mouth again, and she returned his kiss, setting fire to his blood, the hard pumping of his heart spreading that fire through his limbs. He snaked a hand under her hips, tilting them, sinking deeper inside her. “Bend your knees and bring them to my hips,” he murmured.
She did, panting, and legs shaking. He began to move inside her, in small soothing thrusts until she began to match his thrusts. She gasped. A sound of pleasure, not pain.
“Yes, love, that’s it. Move with me—make me give you pleasure.”
Her hands fluttered over his back then steadied. She held him tighter, arching beneath him. He lengthened his strokes, feeding his own pleasure. Fire filled him, an inferno of flame and brimstone. He was the devil, and she had sold her soul for this. He was going to take more than just her body.
He would take her heart too.
He lost himself inside her, his rabbit heart near bursting out of his chest as he quickly found himself teetering on the edge of total oblivion. She had to be first, he had to be sure they reached heaven together.
“Come for me, Violet.” He purred into her ear, taking her earlobe into his mouth and gently sucking.
She cried out, her body tensing, her back arching as her knees squeezed his hips, and her nails bit into his back.
“Yes, my god, yes.” He groaned, thrusting harder, faster, his spine tingling as he withdrew and spilled his seed on her stomach. He rolled to the side, shaken, cold, and damp with sweat. He pulled the coverlet over them, his breath sawing through his chest. He looked over at her, and she lay there with her eyes closed, panting to catch her breath.
He wished he’d kept the candles burning, so he could see the flush of spent desire in her cheeks.
She moved then, peering under the blanket at his spent lust, he guessed. He wrenched his sated body from the bed and fetched a towel to clean her up. She looked at him as he lifted the blanket and wiped her stomach.
“A hazard of the job,” he quipped.
Violet frowned at him. “I beg your pardon.”
“Its…oh bloody hell, you have an older sister, don’t you? Has she told you nothing?”
“She told me enough.” Violet whipped the coverlet off and slipped off the bed.
“Where are you going?” He was certain she would want to cuddle after their intimacy, and he was hoping there would be another round before daybreak.
“I’m leaving.”
“Leaving?” He hopped out of bed and came around to her side as she pulled on her dressing gown in sharp jerks. She was mad. He’d already bollixed it up. He folded his arms. “Speak your mind, Violet. We’ve come this far, there’s no reason to hold back now.”
She looked up at him as she cinched her robe. “I said I understood, you said you understood, but the truth is we were both lying.”
“What?”
“Exactly. I’m reading a fairy tale that is supposed to end in happily ever after once the heroine makes the great leap of faith but here you are—” She jerked her arm at him.
Weirick looked down at himself, naked, and still very aroused. “I’m missing something here.”
“Yes, Weirick, it’s called a heart.”
She spun away from him and marched through the panel door. It slammed shut after her, the windows rattling. Weirick stared at it blankly. What had he done?
Chapter 21
To Weirick’s mind, the best thing about balls was the day after. Everyone spent the majority of the day in bed recovering. The castle was quiet, and he had no reason to try to see anyone or be anywhere, other than where he wanted to be, which was here in his study, alone, with no one to judge the quantity of whiskey he’d drunk.
But then Roderick barged in, looking well despite his lack of sleep. Weirick hadn’t yet slept. When he’d tried to close his eyes after Violet stormed out of his room, he only succeeded in seeing her face, tear-stained and angry.
“You look like hell,” Roderick said.
“Thank you. I feel like it as well.”
“I’m not kidding, Weirick, you look as though someone cut you up and sewed you back together poorly.”
Weirick jerked on his wrinkled coat and glared at his brother. “Do you have a reason for being here?”
“I want to talk about Violet.”
Weirick groaned. “Of course you do. She’s the last topic of discussion I wish to have. Can we warm up with a bit of dialogue about plagues, Dante’s Inferno, the seven deadly sins?”
Roderick swiped a hand over his face. “You’re a miserable fool, you know that? I can see how smitten you are.”
“Alas, her fair tenderness for me has waned.” Weirick stood and refilled his glass of whiskey.
“Bollocks.” Roderick leaned forward. “Are you truly that blind? Or is it delusion?”
“After last night, she want’s nothing to do with me.”
“She looked ready to march to the altar after the waltz, what do you mean?”
“I mean…” Weirick stomach did an ominous roll, but it occurred to him that if he told Roderick all, Roderick would no longer want Violet. Weirick would have one less regret when he left England. Perhaps fear was the more accurate word. He’d rather Violet’s future husband be a nameless, faceless man.
“She came to me again last night. She wanted me to bed her, so I did.”
Roderick grew very still. “You lie.”
“I wish I did, but it’s true. She professed her love to me.”
“So, now you stay and you marry her.” Roderick said, his face ashen.
“No. I won’t do that.” Weirick placed a hand to his roiling stomach.
“You have to. Damn it, you love her, you’re just too stupid and stubborn to see it. Stop playing the monster, Weirick. Let it go—let all the past go, and just stay where you are. You might discover you like it, and it makes you happy, God forbid.” Roderick rolled his eyes.
“I’m a horrible human being, I know that now. I hurt everyone I care about, and the only way to not do that is to stay away.” It was the truth, and it had never been more obvious than it was last night. He still didn’t understand why she left in such a huff.
Roderick’s dumbfounded expression was comical, but Weirick could only turn away, his heart sinking, his hands tingling. He set his snifter of whisky down before he dropped it. Retaking his chair behind his desk, he avoided his brother’s stabbing glare.
“I don’t believe you.”
“Enough, Roderick. It’s over.”
“You’re a goddamn coward, Weirick, worse than Father ever was.”
Weirick’s head dropped to his chest, his strength leaving him. He had nothing left to defend himself.
“You already have everything you could ever want, and yet you want to run and hide because emotions terrify you. You’re so afraid to believe, to feel real emotions, that you’d rather be miserable. God damn you, Weirick.”
The door slammed, his brother’s exit swirling in the room like a gust of wind, papers from the desk flying up and floating down in a rocking glide. Weirick leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. He felt empty now, and somehow, that made it possible for him to finally fall sleep.
After returning to her room and checking that her mother was still sound asleep, Violet had sought her own bed and cried until her eyes refused to stay open. Mercifully,
her sleep was deep and dreamless, and no one woke her until early afternoon. There was nothing planned for the day, as all the guests were still recuperating from the evening’s entertainment. Looking back, Violet didn’t see any of the magic she’d experienced last night. She’d told herself she would regret nothing; it was all worth it in the end. But now…she doubted her sanity. She was a fool, reckless and naïve. For five years, she’d waited for this, and all she felt now was pain. Her heart ached, broken and battered by his careless handling of her. It was never more apparent that it was last night, when he’d spilled his seed—as Heather had described it, on her stomach and not in her womb.
Of course, from the logical side of it, he was sparing them both the consequences. In a way, she should be grateful, but all she felt was…empty. When she’d looked under the sheet, out of a mixture of curiosity and confusion, what she saw there scared her.
It was the life that would have been, that could have been. Heather had explained how a man’s seed fertilizes the woman, resulting in a baby. And there on her stomach, was the child she would never have with Weirick, the life they would never share. Then he’d wiped it up, as though it was nothing, as though it had no meaning. It was that moment that Violet saw the truth.
She meant nothing to him. He was placating her, benevolently enjoying her body, her bleeding heart, and none of it meant a damn thing.
He was a monster, a cruel, heartless beast.
Violet dried her tears as her mother joined her in her room while Janice brought them a late lunch. Violet pasted a smile to her face and yawned frequently, cursing how the yawns made her eyes water. Eventually her tears dried, and Violet began to rebuild her courage to face the day.
Violet took her time dressing for dinner, delaying what was sure to be a nightmare affair. Her palms left damp streaks on her white silk dress, so she kept her hands clenched behind her back. The usual guests were already in attendance, and as soon as Violet and her mother entered, dinner was announced. Following the procession, she saw the back of Weirick ahead of her, and her stomach did a flip.