Too Wanton to Wed: Gothic Love Stories #4

by Ridley, Erica

Chapter 33

  The following morning, after foregoing both breakfast and maths—Violet was of no mind to contest Lily on the latter score—the pair spent the entire day covering the majority of one of the sanctuary walls with a dreamlike panorama of fantastical, hyper-real flowers towering above each other in splendid chaos, peppered with exotic birds and unreal creatures frolicking among the profusion of flora with little regard to perspective or the constraints of reality.

  With Violet’s help, Lily’s imaginatively disproportionate landscape sketched in pencil upon the walls burst into vivid color, transforming the sanctuary from a windowless crypt into a wonderland of extraordinary possibility.

  Violet would have happily continued painting until next week, had it not been almost time for the unburial ceremony. She rang for Lily’s bath and then hurried to her chamber to ring for her own. She had just enough time to twist her hair into a chignon and get dressed in her nicest gown.

  As soon as she was ready, she joined the rest of the staff at the gravesite on the back lawn. She and Roper exchanged conspiratorial grins as he handed out shovels. Violet was thrilled for Lily and eager to see how this changed the father-daughter dynamic. This night was already a miracle in the making. Alistair had outdone himself arranging an extravagant ceremony in the hopes that maybe, this time, his daughter would finally realize how much he loved her.

  Everyone from the abbey was present beneath the stars. Every manservant, every maid, every person that Violet had come to consider a friend. Tonight, they would welcome Lily as family.

  Although the moon waxed high in the sky, flickering candles lined the walkways. The women stood before the graves as witnesses, each bearing petals to toss into the air. The men flanked the other side, jostling each other and laughing. Some bore shovels or pickaxes, others simple trowels, but each of them held fast to a tool capable of chiseling stone from dirt.

  Hand in hand, Alistair and Lily made their way along the candlelit path. This was no somber funerary procession with sobs and dirges and handkerchiefs. A welcoming smile beamed from every face. Alistair gazed down upon his daughter with fatherly love. The grin lighting the child’s face was brighter than the sun.

  When the two finally joined Violet next to the small gravestone at the intersection between the maids and the menservants, Alistair knelt before his daughter and took both her hands in his.

  “Lily.” His low voice rang clear and true, carried upon the soft breeze. “This stone bears your name, but this grave marks no death. You are very much alive—to me, to Miss Smythe, to everyone who shares our home here at Waldegrave Abbey. And as you can see, every single member of our extended family has come here tonight to show their support of you and your future.”

  Lily gazed at the sea of faces in wonder.

  Alistair glanced up over her shoulder. “Ready, Violet?”

  “Absolutely.” Smiling, Violet stepped forward and handed him the shovel.

  He stood, gripped the handle, and slammed the blade into the soil. He placed his boot on the metal edge and shoved again, well and truly entrenching the shovel into the ground. Metal scraped against stone as he scooped up the first mound of dark earth and tossed it to one side. Everyone cheered.

  Violet accepted the shovel from him and did the same, taking great contentment in the spark of blade-against-stone and in the joy upon Lily’s face as she watched Violet add a second scoop of black dirt atop the first.

  “Your turn, Tiger Lily,” she said softly, and handed her the shovel. “Show us how the queen of the jungle does it.”

  Lily snatched the handle from Violet’s hands and dug up not one but three shovelfuls in quick succession, to much whooping and whistling on the part of the onlookers. Giggling, Lily tried to hand the spade back to her father.

  Alistair shook his head with a smile and gestured at the row of men behind them. “Roper is at the ready, and Cook just beside him for his go. We are all here to officially welcome you into the land of the living. To honor your life—and your future—as a family.”

  They joined Violet to one side as the men took their turn in succession, followed by the maids. The resulting trench was more than big enough for Roper and Alistair to lift the stone free and set it upon a patch of hard soil. This time, turns were taken with pickaxes and hammers until all that was left of the false gravestone was an unidentifiable pile of rubble and dust. Already the breeze carried away the lightest bits. Soon it would be nothing more than a memory.

  “Lily Waldegrave,” Alistair announced as he wiped the back of his arm across his brow. “Welcome home. I love you, daughter.”

  Lily threw herself into her father’s embrace, squealing in glee when he responded by swinging her in dizzying circles. “Thank you, Papa. I love you, too.”

  Alistair froze with his arms wrapped tight about his daughter, eyes squeezed shut tight, and held her as if he’d never let go.

  Chapter 34

  After stroking his daughter’s hair until she fell asleep, Alistair hastened from the sanctuary and knocked upon Violet’s chamber door. She swung open the door immediately, almost as if she had been just as eagerly awaiting his arrival. Grinning, he swung her in a circle before collapsing onto the vanity chair and pulling her down with him.

  “Lily loves me,” he announced with no little amount of satisfaction. “She said so in front of everyone.”

  Leaning back into his arms, Violet turned her face to laugh up at him. “Of course she does, you silly creature. Who wouldn’t?”

  He was not so foolish as to believe love came that easily. “She loves you, too, you know.”

  Violet’s head tilted quizzically. “And I her, as you well know.”

  Yet there was so much he did not know. Starting with the future. “Then do not leave us.”

  She blinked up at him. “What?”

  He took a deep breath. “I received word this morning that my solicitor has an appointment tomorrow with Mr. Livingstone. I wish to know your plans for the future.”

  “My plans?” she echoed with a startled chuckle. “I haven’t any plans. I’ve taken life moment by moment since the day that I was born. I have never successfully anticipated what tomorrow held in store.” She touched his arm. “I thank you very much for engaging your solicitor. No one wishes your man more luck than I do, but Mr. Percy Livingstone is as heartless as he is wealthy, and it’s impossible to know—”

  “It’s impossible to know,” he repeated, cutting off whatever else she’d been about to say. He decided he didn’t particularly wish to know her plans after all. He was in far too euphoric a mood to countenance depressing “what ifs” and worst-case scenarios. “You’re absolutely right. We should concern ourselves only with the moment.”

  Before she could reply, he lifted her in his arms and silenced her with a kiss. Without separating his mouth from hers, he carried her from the chair to the bed and tumbled backward onto the mattress so that Violet lay sprawled on top.

  “Oh dear, you’ve entrapped me,” he moaned dramatically. “I exist solely to satisfy your every desire.” He grinned up at her and added, “Ideally, your desires involve something slightly more interactive than counting sheep and snoring. And I promise not to behave like a horse’s arse.”

  “Ladies do not snore!” Violet gasped in mock affront. Her lips curved into a slow, sensual smile. “And I might have a desire or two that should please you.”

  He cocked an eyebrow and grinned. “Promises, promises.”

  Giggling, she bent down as if to kiss him. When his lips parted and his eyelids lowered in anticipation, she darted to one side and lightly bit the lobe of his ear instead.

  His eyes flew open in surprise, their expression mischievous. He flipped her onto her back and caught her wrists against the pillows. “It’s like that, is it? Let’s see how well you like a nibble or two upon your own flesh.”

  Starting at the corner of her mouth, he dragged a line of hot kisses down her throat and across her bosom. He took her breast into his mo
uth, suckling until her nipple strained against the thin silk of her bodice. She gasped as he softly grazed the sensitive bud with the edge of his teeth before laving it with his tongue and bending to suckle once more.

  She clutched his hair and held him to her breast, then dragged him upward until their mouths met. Without breaking the kiss, she raked her nails down the length of his back to his breeches. She gave his arse a quick squeeze before bucking gently with one hip, simultaneously arching upward to indicate she wanted him to roll over.

  With his hands still buried in the soft ringlets of her hair and his mouth still locked to hers, he docilely allowed her to flip him onto his back. She slid to her side, one thigh still draped across his, and began to pluck open the buttons of his waistcoat. Task completed, she quickly divested him of coat and waistcoat and shirt, then pushed him onto the pillows to tease his nipples with the same bite-and-suckle treatment he’d subjected her to moments earlier.

  “Minx,” he murmured when he could breathe again.

  She arched a brow. “Just to see how you like it.”

  “I love it,” he admitted freely. He reached around to tug loose her ribbons and stays. “Is it my turn yet?”

  With a coquettish smile, she allowed him to lift away her gown and her petticoats. He made short work of his boots and hers, then rejoined her upon the mattress.

  “Well?” she asked archly, her eyes sparkling. “Now that you have me naked and supine, what do you intend to do with me?”

  He widened his eyes. “I, madam? It is you who makes the demands and I who am yours to command.”

  “In that case...” She slid free one of the buttons on his fall and then the other. “It is imperative that you be naked.”

  “And supine?” he asked innocently.

  She nipped at his lower lip. “If you’re lucky.”

  He shucked his breeches in seconds, and stretched out on his side beside her. Her smile warmed his soul. Angling her head for a kiss, he cradled her face with one hand, using his other arm to bring their naked bodies closer together. He loved the feel of her breasts pressed against him; the tight little nipples deliciously hard against his chest. He loved having her in his arms, period.

  He skimmed his free hand over the curve of her hip and the dip of her stomach to cup one of her full breasts. He teased the taut nipple with his fingertips, alternately caressing and tugging gently until his kisses were met with little gasps of air. Tonight had been beautiful. He wanted the next few hours to be even more perfect.

  He eased one of his legs between her knees, parting her thighs. He reminded himself to go slowly. Violet was no stranger to brutishness. He preferred to show her what it meant to make love.

  Still cradling her face to claim her with kisses, he released the erect nipple and slid his hand between them to cup her cleft. Slick heat met his fingers. Although she moaned in anticipation, he did not immediately give her what she expected. Instead, he rolled his fingers lightly over her entrance, teasing her clitoris and tantalizing her with the desire for penetration. He wanted her to want him more than she’d ever dreamed possible.

  When he slid the very tip of one finger inside, she arched into his touch, driving him deeper even as she gasped. His lungs stopped as their gazes caught. She grabbed his upper arm and hooked her leg over his thigh, tilting her hips for a deeper angle. Slowly, suggestively, irresistibly, she began to ride his finger with her half-lidded eyes open and her gaze locked to his.

  He did not need to make the night perfect. It was already perfect.

  Heart racing, he slid his wet fingers from her core to his cock, stroking its length and reveling in the sensation of her dampness upon his shaft. He angled the tip, intending to go slow, but she tightened her leg around his hips and forced him all the way inside. She felt like heaven. He would never let her go. As he began to thrust, he brought both hands to her face and kissed her deeply.

  When his shallow breaths began to come far too quickly, he rolled onto his back and allowed her to set the pace. Tonight was not about him... or even about her. Tonight was about them.

  With her thighs on either side of his ribs and her hands digging into his shoulders, she rose and fell upon his shaft, slowly gaining speed and rhythm. He grinned up at her. The sauciness in her answering smile curled his toes. Her delight in the physicality of their relationship made it all the more special.

  No—it made Violet all the more special. Her past made her who she was, and brought her right here to his arms. He craned upward to lick one of her breasts. She leaned forward slightly, allowing him to suckle one nipple and toy with the other. He loved the feel of their bodies, the scent of her skin. She gripped his hair as her muscles began to clench around his cock.

  His breath as ragged and uneven as hers, he held her waist with his hands, lifting his hips and driving her harder and harder until she cried out and slumped forward against him. Pleased beyond all reckoning, he lifted her chin with one finger and leaned upward to kiss her.

  When her fingers made their way into his hair and her body began to writhe against him once more, he turned her around so that she was nestled in his arms with their naked bodies spooned together on their sides. He parted her thighs and leaned slightly away in order to guide his stiff cock between her legs from behind. He held her tight as he made love.

  She arched, simultaneously deepening the penetration and thrusting forward her jutting nipples. His pulse raced. Increasing his rhythm, he lightly squeezed her breasts and tugged gently at her erect nipples. Every sigh, every gasp, swelled his cock as he drove deeper and deeper. He was about a breath away from release, and he hoped he could make her join him.

  Still pressing open-mouthed kisses against her bare shoulder and the back of her neck, he lowered his hand from her nipples, across her stomach, to the juncture between her thighs where the tips of his fingers could just touch the slippery wetness of his shaft as it disappeared within her. With his lips still pressed to her back, he slid his fingertips up to her clitoris, circling, teasing, toying, as he drove his cock inside her again and again.

  She was his, and he was hers.

  When her legs tightened and began to tremble, he increased the pressure, pleasuring her with his fingers as he buried himself within her. She sucked in a sharp breath, her muscles convulsing around his shaft even as he spilled his seed. He shuddered in ecstasy. When their climaxes finally ceased, he wrapped his arms around her and held her tight, until they both drifted into sleep.

  He awoke in the wee hours of the morning. Violet was still snuggled against him. He was careful not to wake her, choosing instead to contentedly gaze upon her sleeping face and hold her close. She was an angel. He would never cease thanking the Lord above for sending her into his life. He could scarcely wait to make their union official.

  He forced himself out of bed before the maids could stumble across them during morning rounds. He intended to spend the rest of his life with Violet. The others would find out only after she said yes. His skin tingled with nerves. He certainly hoped she’d say yes!

  He dressed quietly and pressed a soft kiss to her hair before slipping out the door. Since dawn was only just breaking, perhaps he would plant a rosebush where the stone had stood. Or lilies.

  While he was out there, this time he would clip flowers for both his women. And think up the most romantic method possible for proposing to Violet.

  He intended to do the honorable thing by her—which, happily, perfectly corresponded with what his heart wished to do anyway. Tonight, he would present himself as the lovesick fool he truly was. She had suffered more than enough disappointments in life.

  He needed to do this right.

  Chapter 35

  Violet was disappointed but unsurprised to discover Alistair gone when she awoke. She’d expected him to return to his chambers before a servant stumbled in on them.

  She was astounded, however, when she realized she had slept through the night without a single nightmare.

  Buoyant,
she hauled herself out of bed and padded over to the small clock. Early, yet. The maids wouldn’t even have started their morning rounds.

  After getting dressed and taming her hair, she still had plenty of time to slip outside and select a flower for her hair before breakfast. As she suspected Alistair would likely join her, she wanted to look her best and thought a little accent might be just the thing.

  Still euphoric over the previous night, she sailed through the front door and into the morning sun. She was just making her way toward the back lawn when Roper appeared from around the corner.

  “Mr. Roper!” She gave him a sunny smile. “How do you do this fine day?”

  “Miss Smythe.” His strong fingers latched onto her wrist to prevent her from continuing forward, although she had already stopped to greet him. The rising sun cast his tall form in dark silhouette, making it impossible to read his expression. “What are you doing out here?”

  Her brow furrowed as she tried to twist her arm free from his grasp. “Merely hoping to adorn my hair with a flower. If you don’t mind, I’d like to eat before morning lessons, and—”

  “Your hair is lovely as it is,” Roper interrupted, his firm grip on her wrist at odds with what should have seemed a compliment. “You should go to breakfast now.”

  Laughing uncomfortably in an attempt to diffuse a situation she clearly did not comprehend, she dipped a curtsey. “I thank you. But if you don’t mind—”

  “I mind.” Roper’s grip intensified. “Come, I will walk you.”

  She tried to pull away. He wouldn’t let her. A chill slithered down her spine. What was wrong with him? He hadn’t acted this way in months. No longer willing to continue the pretense of obviously false pleasantries, she jerked her throbbing wrist free from his grasp and leapt out of harm’s way. “I will return in a moment. First, I shall—”

  Three steps. She had only progressed three small steps, but it was enough to clear the corner of the abbey and get a direct view of what the manservant had been trying so desperately to prevent her from seeing.