by Jenna Jaxon
As always, she caressed the instrument before she sat down, imagining a particular person beneath her fingertips rather than the harp. It had been bittersweet to practice on the wonderfully generous gift. She always thought of Tris when she played, great joy mingling with sadness. Today he would finally hear her play, the only time perhaps, so she sought to make it a memorable one.
One touch of the strings and the world fell away as she became absorbed in the music until the instrument became an extension of herself. Even after so many months of not rehearsing, it had come back easily, quickly consoling her for the loss of a different love. Today she practiced one song alone. Into this one she poured her heart and soul. So he would remember her.
“Violet.”
Susan’s voice brought her back from the trance-like state she achieved when playing her best.
“Lord Trevor is in the parlor.”
Violet’s stomach twisted and her hands trembled, but she rose and nodded. “Please show him in here.” Hurrying from behind the harp, she took her position just inside the door to welcome him.
He rounded the corner, a splash of deep scarlet brocade, gold braid and buttons catching the light. She caught her breath at the sight of his powerful body, broad shoulders, narrow waist, strong legs—a splendid figure she drank in with a bold, greedy gaze.
“Good evening, Miss Carlton.”
Icy formality it would be then. “Good evening, Lord Trevor. Merry Christmas.” She indicated a chair placed before the instruments. “Please be seated.”
He complied, although he did not meet her eyes until she crossed to stand directly in front of him.
“I asked you here, my lord, to pay the forfeit I owe you. I…” Much as she wanted to, she simply couldn’t look into those deep sapphire eyes, see all the anger and, farther back, the hurt in them, and say everything she wanted to say. She loved him too much to doom him to a life of dishonor. That hurt and anger were her burden to bear because of her love. The only path left to her was to tell him in the only way left to her.
“I am here, Miss Carlton. I am listening.”
Unable to say more, she fled to the harpsichord, her heart battered. Beginning with the Scarlatti, she poured herself into the music. At first painfully aware of his gaze on her, she managed to push through until the music overtook her and she forgot everything except for it.
The next two pieces rolled from her fingers one after the other with only a break to change the sheets of music. She’d practiced so diligently she hardly needed them. When she finished the Bach, she rose and looked at Tris for the first time since she began to play. The stunned look on his face made her want to weep. Hurt and anger had been replaced with wonder and regret.
“Violet. Oh, my dear.” He came to his feet and strode toward her, taking her hands and kissing them with a fervor that made her toes tingle. “You are magnificent, my love.”
My love. A wonderful Christmas present, indeed.
“Truly one of the finest performances I have heard. Why didn’t you tell me you played so well? We should have been looking for a manager for you. You should be playing professional engagements.”
His words, his touch, overwhelmed her, made the blood pound in her ears and her legs threaten to collapse. If only they could remain this way forever. “I never thought myself very much better than the other young ladies who exhibited. I simply wanted it to be perfect for you tonight.” Joy came flooding back as the icy stranger melted into the man she adored.
He smiled, boyish once more. “I declare your forfeit paid most handsomely.” He raised her hands and kissed them, his warm lips leaving prickles on her skin.
“I am so happy that debt is satisfied,” she said, relishing their intimacy. This was the companionship she had sorely missed these past weeks. She forced herself to note each word, every touch, every glance, storing them up to cherish in the months and years they would be apart. “And now I have something else for you. A Christmas gift.”
With a twinge of regret, she pulled her hands from his grasp and seated herself at the harp. She smiled and nodded at him, stroked the pillar of the harp, then rested the sound board on her shoulder, nestling it against her. The magic of the harp coursed through her as it always had and she plucked the strings with sure fingers, all her soul, all her love, all her passion flowing into the piece. She had nothing to give him as a remembrance of her save this, so she’d make sure it would remain with him the rest of his life.
As she played the final notes, for the first time the sense of devastating loss welled within her. She would never play for him again, never share their passion for music. She stared at the now silent strings, wanting to recall the minutes past, relive them and cherish them to the fullest, yet knowing it impossible. She blinked back tears.
A shadow fell across the harp.
She looked up into Tris’s face, so full of love she burst into tears.
“Violet, love.” He raised her and gathered her into his arms. “Please don’t cry. That was the finest harp performance I have ever heard. I will treasure it in my heart forever.”
She cried harder. Why had the Fates set themselves against her? First her brother’s death, now the man she loved snatched from her and married to another. She tightened her grip on him. “It’s not fair. It’s simply not fair.”
“No, it’s not, my love,” he whispered, his warm mouth in her hair. “And we make choices to try and even the odds, although rarely do they turn out in our favor. We must find a way to go on.” Wrapping his arms around her, he cuddled her close against him.
“How?” she wailed.
“I don’t know, love. It’s a tangle, an impossible knot we cannot loosen.” His gentle voice held no sliver of hope. “We must savor our remaining moments together, etch them in our hearts and memories. Which reminds me.” He loosened his hold on her so he could look into her face. “I recognized the works you played on the harpsichord, but not the harp piece. What was that?”
“‘Minuet for Tristan and Isolde.’” She stared into his beloved face, her heart bursting with love. “I wrote it for you.”
Her gaze met his, love and desire crackling between them in a tense charge that threatened to explode them into a million pieces.
Then his lips were on hers and Violet dissolved, the music and the magic of him merging into one. She continued to cry, tears of joy now, as she molded her body to his.
He pushed his tongue through her lips, igniting even more heat between them.
She welcomed it, pulled him in greedily, demanding all of him.
With a groan he wrapped his hands around her head, cradling it, angling it so their mouths melded together perfectly.
As they were meant to be.
Determined not to let him go, she slid her arms around his neck. Somehow, she would make sure they could be together, no matter what.
With agonizing deliberation, he skimmed his hands down the length of her back, each inch he touched coming to life with a heat of its own. When he reached her buttocks, he cupped them and squeezed, pressing her against his granite-hard erection.
Dizzy, she moaned, surrendering to his will with an abandon she’d never suspected of herself. Her world had shrunk to the two of them. She’d never need anything more than this.
He scooped her into his arms, their lips still locked. When he broke the kiss it was to press her face to his chest as he strode from the room.
She rubbed against him like a cat, the scent of bergamot and citrus filling her head. The unique, comforting smell of him.
Then they were bounding up the stairs. He pushed open the door to her chamber and kicked it shut. Panting, he carried her to the bed and seized her mouth again. Bending her back onto the mattress, he kissed her long and thoroughly before leaving her lips to caress the tender flesh below.
Frantically, she arched her neck, baring the whole of it, hoping to tempt him into exploring all of her. The feel of his lips on her sensi
tive flesh sent chills down her arms, through her body to lodge low in her belly, an unusual ache deep inside.
The ache increased as he kissed and sucked her breasts where they spilled over her stays, then licked the deep cleft between.
“Ahhh.” Her moan emerged from the back of her throat. She was on fire. A spark had started a blaze in her that would not be quenched save one way.
Tris groaned in answer and lurched to his feet. He ripped his breeches open, then pushed her into the middle of the bed.
First cool air touched her thighs, then his big, hot body pressed her into the mattress.
“This is where we began,” she said, tugging at her stays until her breasts popped free.
“But so much better than then.” He wrapped his lips around her nipple.
Violet surged up into him, pressing her breasts into his mouth while she ground her lower body into his hips, seeking what she craved.
Licking first one, then the other breast, he surprised her anew when he blew gently on them. They cooled immediately, gooseflesh popping out all over her. Below he stroked his fingers through the gathering moisture, pressing one finger inside.
It burned, but she forgot it instantly. When he pumped the finger in and out, caressing her without and within, her channel began to pulse. Heat poured through her. She yearned to be skin to skin with him, but disrobing would take too long. She should have heeded Madame Vestry’s rules, but she hadn’t expected this to happen.
“I can…do you want me to stop?” he panted, the aching need in his voice confirmed by the stiff cock he rubbed along her thigh.
Oh, how she wanted to appease that eagerness.
“No, do it now, Tris. Now.” If he didn’t take her this moment she feared he’d think better of it and refuse.
Without protest, he withdrew his finger and pushed himself to her opening instead. One vigorous thrust and it was done. He slid inside her, bringing some pain, but not nearly what she had feared.
Groaning his need, he gave another short thrust, and filled her completely.
The lovely fullness of him, knowing they were joined as if one, made her long to savor the moment. Each movement, however, left her with no thought for anything save the feel of him inside her.
He moved again, withdrawing and plunging forward in a rhythm like music—beautiful, exquisite music playing only for them. He increased the tempo, thrusting into her until the pulse became stronger, and without warning her body exploded, gripping him inside her.
“Oh, oh, Tris!” She clutched him to her, thrusting her hips toward him, unable to get enough.
Suddenly he cried out, thrust one more time, and slumped onto her.
As her sated body relaxed, she lay motionless, completely happy for the first time in a long while. But what should she do now?
“Christ, did I hurt you?” Tris raised his head to peer into her face.
“I don’t know. But if you did, you can do it again right now.” She cupped his dear face. Her racing heart slowed, returning to something like normal.
He laughed and kissed her, long and slowly. Let it never end. Finally, he lifted his head. “You were exquisite, my love. I’ve never felt such passion with a woman. I cannot let you go.” To make good his words, he clutched her tighter. “And to think I almost did.” One by one, he kissed her lips, nose, eyes. “Now you’re mine. Donningham can go hang.” He eased out of her and drew her against him. A sigh escaped his lips as he slid his hand over her breasts. “All we need do is rid ourselves of the rest of this clothing, my dear, and I will be happy to start your second lesson here and now.”
Chapter 12
Violet awoke to the familiar tap, tap on her chamber door. “Come in,” she called. Drowsy and sated, she settled her head back on Tris’s chest, too tired to want even tea. Susan should come back later. Her eyes flew open and she started up in bed. “No!”
The door swung open anyway as the maid strode in.
“Good—” She stopped. Her brown eyes widened as she took in the scene before her. Scattered clothing, rumpled bedclothes, and a large man in bed beside Violet. Coolly recovering her composure, she drew a deep breath, and continued into the room. “Good morning, Violet.” She set the tea on the dresser. “Would you like the curtains pulled or not?”
Violet glanced at Tris, his naked arm flung over his head, dark-haired chest blatantly on display, fast asleep. “Best leave them closed for now,” she whispered. “But maybe make up the fire.” Her face glowed like the hearth embers. Might as well be comfortable, then, in the chilly room. Although she and Tris had generated quite a bit of warmth throughout the night. And that magnificent body beside her radiated heat like a small sun burned within him.
“Very good, miss.” Susan poured tea, handed her a cup, and set about her task as though the morning was no different from any other since her arrival.
Sipping her tea, trying to remain nonchalant about being caught in bed with a man not her husband, Violet determinedly avoided looking at her maid. Of course, Susan must be used to such a scenario. A pang of jealousy swept through her. Visions of Tris in bed with other women, something she had never really contemplated on a practical basis before, suddenly made her heart ache. She put the tea aside and slipped down under the thick covers, stretching her arm over his broad chest. The dark mat of hair rubbed against her skin in a new, intimate sensation that made her even more possessive.
“Shall I tell Mrs. Parker to hold breakfast?” Susan had finished poking up the fire and stood at the foot of the bed.
“I think that’s best. I’m not sure of…” Her cheeks were an inferno, but she managed to continue, “Lord Trevor’s plans this morning. I’ll ring.”
“Very good, miss.” With a warm smile that spoke volumes, Susan nodded and left.
If her maid approved of her change in status, Violet supposed the situation couldn’t be too bad.
“You handled that excellently, my love.” Tris rolled up onto his side to face her. “You’ve bought us some more time.” A flip of his hand and the covers slithered down, exposing her breasts, her nipples pebbling in the cool air.
“More time?” She stretched, arching her breasts toward him.
“To satisfy other appetites.” He skimmed his finger over her flesh, making it tingle. When he reached the hard tip, his nail rasped the sensitive bud, setting a pulse leaping down below.
“Ummm. I believe I am hungry again.” Suddenly impatient for him, she pulled his head to her, seizing his lips to taste him once more. They had made love three times in the night but she hungered for more. Would she ever get enough? She put her hands on his shoulders, pushed him onto his back, and rolled on top of him. Straddling him, she rubbed herself against his hard abdomen.
“I see you are.” He grinned, his eyes half-closed. His cock prodded her backside, an insistent thumping that made her wet.
Grabbing his hands, she drew them over his head, then rubbed her breasts over his face. Her body ached with wanting him. Where these wanton feelings had come from she had no idea. She’d never thought much about the marriage bed until she’d been instructed by Madame Vestry. Neither had she expected the things she had learned to be so pleasurable. Perhaps they wouldn’t have been, had they been done with someone other than Tris. She brushed her nipple across his lips.
He opened his mouth, trying to capture it.
She laughed and dangled it just out of reach.
Lightning fast, he snaked his tongue out, teasing the tip with tiny rapid strokes that made her whole body shudder. Taking advantage of her momentary distraction, he broke her loose hold, pulled her down, and engulfed the nipple.
Further languorous strokes hardened the little peak to a bullet point, aching in a wonderful way that drove her wild. She rubbed her cheek against his hair, moaning quietly as he sucked the tight crest.
With one hard pull on her breast, he slid his finger deep into her slippery channel.
“Ahhh, Lord
, Tris.” God, any part of him felt good inside her.
He withdrew and returned with two fingers. They weren’t nearly as big or as long as his cock. Yet when he moved them like that her whole body trembled, tension gathering at her core. He pumped slowly, setting all her nerves on edge. Then, releasing her nipple, he slipped out of her and pushed her up to sit on him once more. “Pose for me, Violet.”
Wicked man. Feeling wanton, and loving it, she sat straight, her lower lips pressed to his hot flesh. Moving slowly, she raised her arms and positioned her hands behind her head, her breasts jutting out like a ship’s prow. As he’d intended perhaps. His eyes glittered like black diamonds seeming to drink in the sight of her. She’d make him drunk with wanting her, then. She draped her hair over her shoulders so the shiny brown locks fanned over her breasts, hiding most of them from his view. Turning to the right she batted her eyes at him over her shoulder. What else could she do to enflame him? She twisted back, then leaned over him, brushing her hair across his broad chest, teasing his dark brown nipples.
“Vixen,” he growled, and wrapped his arms around her, crushing her against him.
“I’ll show you a vixen.” Her pulse raced, excitement brewing as she reached behind her and stroked the length of his cock. Smooth. Hot. Big. She closed her hand around him and pumped twice, gliding her thumb over the crown, gathering his juices. Carefully, she brought her thumb around so he could see it glistening.
His breath rasped as his body tensed. He swallowed hard.
Slowly, she licked the gleaming drops from her thumb, then poked her tongue between her lips and wiggled it at him.
“Christ.” He grabbed her waist and, in one sudden movement, lifted and impaled her on his rock-hard erection.