by Suzan Butler, Emily Ryan-Davis, Cari Quinn, Vivienne Westlake, Sadie Haller, Holley Trent
His luscious tongue swept over his lips. “I am listening.”
“We shall play three rounds of hazard. If I win, then we will have breakfast, bathe, and meet in two hours downstairs. After a tour of the house, we shall have a proper afternoon tea.”
His face leaned close to hers, stopping before their lips touched. “And if I win?”
“I will stay abed with you and see to my affairs after tea.”
“No, you will stay abed with me until I tell you otherwise.” His smile gave her goose-bumps.
“I cannot ignore my responsibilities, Kit. What will the staff think if I while the day away in bed with a man like some harlot?”
His hand covered her lips. “You have never been, nor will you ever be anything less than a lady, Violet. Your staff has known you far longer than I. Do you think they will suddenly spurn you for taking a day to yourself? When was the last time you allowed yourself to relax?”
She could not remember. The only time she truly relaxed was in her steaming bath or when she took a ride on one of her favorite horses. She spent much of her time managing the household, visiting neighbors or elderly friends in the village who could not travel to see her.
She often sewed or embroidered items for friends who could not afford the same luxuries she had. When she’d first lost John, keeping her hands busy was the only thing that distracted her from the ache in her chest. And in the war, it was what kept her sane. She cleaned, she cooked, she sewed, she nursed the ill. If she stopped, then her mind would wander onto the battlefield, remembering all of the soldiers they’d lost.
“I do not remember,” she admitted. “Idle hands are the devil’s playthings.” Her father often repeated that to her in her childhood. He embraced economy, modesty, virtue, and practicality. His ministry bordered on puritanical.
Kit scoffed. “Nonsense!” He kissed her collarbone, trailed kisses down to the swell of her breast. He rotated it in his hand. “Now these are the devil’s playthings.” His gentle kiss made her rotate her hips in response.
“If you spend every waking minute being useful, how will you ever enjoy the sun? The stars? God made beauty for us to enjoy, Violet. Do not forget the words of the good book. ‘On the seventh day, he rested.’ That was not merely to entice sinners into church once a week. It was to remind us that there is a time for toil, but also a time when we must set our labors aside and take pleasure in simple things.”
“I never thought of it that way.” Violet was surprised. This was a Kit she hadn’t seen before. Philosophical, thoughtful, eloquent in a manner that had absolutely nothing to do with flirtation. What other things would she discover about him now that they were lovers?
Chapter Ten
He watched her eyes go from gold to mossy green. Under the bright sun, he could see the subtle shift in color on her face, from her eyes to her lashes that were brown edged in black. He noted the tiny freckles that were barely visible on her skin.
What would it be like to take her out into a meadow and make love to her under the midday sun? Where he could see every inch of her skin and its vibrant hues.
He thought of a beautiful spot near a crumbling castle where he’d played as a boy. It had a secluded but wide open space where the bailey had been. Now it was the home of wild grass and ivy, which covered the walls. Outside the castle, one could smell the heather, which swayed in the cool breeze.
Maybe he could bring her there one day. Take her away from the confines of her self-imposed obligations and show her how to take pleasure in the things people took for granted.
“We are only provided with one life. You should live yours to the fullest.”
“Perhaps I do not know how,” she whispered.
“I would be happy to teach you.” He pressed his lips to hers, lingering, teasing, but never demanding. She opened to him like the rose to the sun and he realized he’d never wanted a woman the way he wanted Violet.
In the past few weeks, she’d become everything to him. What would he do when he couldn’t laugh with her over eggs and toast in the morning or tease her into a kiss at dinner? Who would stand over him until he finished all of his vegetables?
And who would sass him mercilessly until he bent her over and spanked every bit of pleasure out of her?
Violet eased out of the kiss, her breathing heavy. Her hands were curled at his shoulders and her hair flowed free, soft and wild. If only she would wear her hair loose all the time. He loved lacing his fingers through the strands and feeling the silk caress him.
Her eyes went from heavy lidded to wide open, like a shade being raised over a window. “Now back to our wager.”
Just when he thought he’d convinced her to lie abed with him. But she would not be Violet if she let him have his way in everything.
“If I win, you will stay abed and let me pleasure you for hours.” As he said the words, he circled his finger around her breast. Soon he would have her naked again, her body splayed for him like a Christmas feast. “If you win, I will let you entertain me in the drawing room.” He let his voice trail off with disinterest.
“Three rounds of hazard.”
“Are you sure you wouldn’t rather play piquet or vingt-et-un?”
“Yes.” She shot him a heated look. “Do not tell me that you think I cannot play?”
He was skeptical. Men loved their dice, their cards; hell, they’d wager on the length of their pricks if they’d had enough to drink. Most ladies of his acquaintance liked social games, games they could play in pairs, like whist. Or they liked games of strategy like vingt-et-un. When was the last time he’d seen a woman play hazard who wasn’t a barmaid, a servant, or a lady of ill repute?
“I think you are determined,” he said, evading her question.
“You may as well hand over your purse now,” she said, kissing his forehead before jumping out of the bed. When she stretched her arms high, his gaze was drawn to her breasts as they rose to greet him.
“Whether we play for pounds or…for more sensual delights, I have no doubt that I will come out the victor.” He rose from the bed, naked and semi-hard from watching her breasts stretch across the thin fabric of her shift.
“Would you care to make the wager a little sweeter, sir?” She batted her lashes at him.
“What do you have in mind?”
“Since you are so fond of…cravats and cords,” she paused, “I think the winner should be able to tie up the loser to do as he or she pleases.”
Mmmm. What a lascivious proposition. Violet’s golden eyes were liquid amber. More beautiful than Eve, even the serpent would have fallen under her spell. Was it any wonder that he was falling in love with her?
In love with her body, he corrected.
“You have a bargain, my dear. Shall we seal it with a kiss?”
She didn’t wait for him. Violet’s mouth melted his, searing as she drank from his lips. He yielded, wanting to drown in her passion.
When she released him, she fingered his bottom lip with her thumb. “When I win do not forget that you agreed to the challenge.”
“I would never weasel out of a bet. Either way, I consider this a win, angel.”
No matter which way it went, he would be skin to skin with her, lost in the pleasure of her touch. It was the easiest bargain he’d ever made.
“Good.”
“Very good,” he said, licking and nipping her ear.
The warm light of the sun streamed over them, caressing his back and arms and dancing through her rich, thick hair. He slipped his fingers through the hair by her nape and pulled gently. Violet’s lips fell open and he could see her velvety tongue, which begged for him to seduce it.
At her intake of breath, he smiled. He could swear that he heard her racing pulse. Maybe the heartbeat he heard was his own.
“You attempt to distract me,” she whispered.
“I mean to keep you close by any means necessary.” Gripping her firm derrière, he pulled
her against his body. The light friction of her linen shift teased the hair on his chest. Her soft thighs teased his, making him want to lift her legs and wrap them around his waist.
“Ah-ah. No sampling the goods before the bet is won.”
“Where are the dice?” he whispered.
Her gaze shot daggers at him. After giving her bottom a slow caress, he loosened his grip and let her go free.
She stood on her tiptoes and nipped his nose with her teeth. “I shall be back.”
With a tart glance, she walked over to the dressing screen to grab one of his dressing gowns. She walked to the door, not pausing as she slipped it on.
A few minutes later, she returned with a black lacquered box with mother of pearl flowers scrolling all around it. She gestured for him to come to the table and sit with her.
When she popped open the box, he saw a plain wooden cup, four wooden dice, and two decks of cards. She took out the cup and dropped two dice inside.
“Shall we roll for the main or do you want to choose?” he asked.
“A lady always loves to have a choice.” She smiled. “I could be cordial and offer you the first pick, but since considerate players rarely prosper, I shan’t feel too poorly about it. I will play sevens.”
“Then I will play six.”
“Do you wish to go first?” She asked, shaking the dice in the cup. The mere sound of the dice rolling around in the holder was enough to get his blood pumping and his fingers tingling.
As he grabbed the cup, the tips of his fingers stroked hers. He let them linger as he eased the cup from her hand.
They were both quiet as he shook the dice in the cup. His gaze lingered over the exposed skin of her neck. The dressing gown was loose enough that he got a glimpse of her cleavage, but no more. He looked forward to peeling the fabric off of her and sliding his hands under her chemise.
Kit turned over the cup and let the dice fall. Seven. If he’d chosen seven as his main, he would have won, but now he had to roll again.
Do not pull a six. Do not pull a six. He slipped the dice back into the holder, saying his prayers for a win. A seven would guarantee a win.
After a strong shake of the cup, he threw the dice down. Two. He’d lost. Now it was Violet’s turn.
Her long, slender fingers took hold of the cup as her other hand grabbed the dice. She pressed them to her lips, closing her eyes, then plopping each one into the cup. Something about watching her mouth touch the die or perhaps the way she lowered her lashes in a silent prayer made his mouth water and his cock harden.
She loosed the dice. Eleven. How had she managed that? He had to blink a few times to be sure of what he saw. But sure enough, one die read five and the other six. Violet had won the first round.
“Should I have checked that the dice weren’t loaded?”
“Do not be a petulant loser.”
“Perhaps your fingers are magic?” he asked, taking hold of her hand and kissing the tip of each finger. He teethed her index finger. When he pulled her arm closer so that he could kiss her wrist, she stopped him.
“Do not attempt to distract me. You seek to throw off my guard so that you will win.”
“What I seek is another taste of your delectable skin.”
“Roll the dice. Do you wish to keep your main?” she asked.
“I think I shall switch to five,” he said before giving two fast shakes and tossing. Six. Like it or not, he was stuck with it again. He stared at the dice, wondering at the chances of that happening when he heard a tapping sound on the table.
“Do not give up so easily,” she said. “Though perhaps I should encourage you to acquiesce now.”
He rolled the dice. Eight. He neither won nor lost. The third time, he rolled a twelve. Two sixes, but not the one he needed.
As he picked up the dice and dropped them in the cup, he felt a firm pressure against his thigh. He groaned and dropped the cup when he felt it move to his groin.
A glance at Violet’s face revealed nothing, though there was a twinkle in her eye.
“Hell and damnation, woman, what are you doing?”
“Hmmm?” She rested her head on her hand. “What do you mean?”
She massaged his cock with her feet, pressing her heel into his scrotum. Gripping the table, he closed his eyes, unable to move. How could he possibly concentrate when she did such devilish things to him?
He shot her a dark look. “Your foot.”
“My what?”
“Your foot is on my—oh, good God.” She pressed his cock into his belly, rubbing the underside up and down with the ball of her foot.
“My feet are cold.”
“Cheater.”
“Your body is so warm…” The low, breathy voice was designed to do one thing—make him utterly helpless to her seduction. By the saints, it was working.
He exhaled deeply, willing his self-control to return. Somehow, he managed to pry her foot from his cock and set it down on the floor.
Another cold foot climbed his leg and slipped over his knee and up his thigh.
“I’m of a mind to tie you up now,” he said.
“You will have to wait until our game is done. Let me remind you that it is your turn.”
He threw down the dice and finally managed two threes. He got his six. But if she won her set, they would have to keep playing until one or the other won this round.
“My turn!” As quick as you please, she pulled her foot away. He reached down and caught it before it hit the ground. He lay it across his knee and began kneading and stroking it.
“My foot!”
“And?” He continued his ministrations. This thumb circled the inside of her ankle. “You said your foot was cold. I am warming it up for you.”
By the look of her pursed lips, she was not happy to have the tables turned on her. But he would not release her leg until she played her turn.
“I assume you are playing sevens again?”
“Yes.” She spoke the word like a curse.
He used his thumb to knead the arch of her foot. She closed her eyes, the cup almost tipping the die over. But before they fell, she gave the cup another shake and threw down the dice. Twelve.
“Bloody murder!”
Kit laughed. So much for him being the petulant loser. “One-to-one, angel. Shall we play this round fair-and-square?”
Her leg dropped down the ground, making a loud thump. “Fair-and-square.”
She handed him the dice cup.
“Playing six, since now that seems to be my lucky number.”
He lifted the dice in his fingers and held it up to her lips to kiss for him.
“Now you want me to give you luck so that you can best me?” She folded her arms over her chest and turned her head away from the dice.
“Suit yourself. I will win regardless.”
He rolled the dice in his palm for a moment before throwing it into the cup and tossing the play.
Nine. Not what he was hoping for, but at least it wasn’t a three or eleven.
“You will not make the nine you are hoping for,” she said. “Rolling that nine might as well be digging for a needle in a bale of hay.”
His chances were not so grave as that, but he rarely rolled nines, so he could not count on a quick victory.
Eight. Close, but still off the mark. He rolled again, this time getting two deuces. He wasn’t out yet, but this might take a while.
Violet tapped her fingers on the table.
“Patience is a virtue.”
“Says the man who is always chomping at the bit.”
The next try yielded another four. Which would have been great if only four was the chance. But no, he’d gotten nine and getting that roll was as good as squeezing blood from a stone.
“Seeing as how you need all the luck you can get, I shall kiss your dice for you.” He held them up to her lips then threw them back into the cup. Unfortunately, luck was not
with him, for this last roll was a three. He was out unless she lost her turn.
“Try not to look so defeated,” she said, stroking his hand with her palm. Then she licked the corner of her lips. “Save that for when I have you shackled to the bed.”
“You little tart!”
“I am a little sweet and a little sour. But as much as you like to punish me for my wayward tongue, I think you rather enjoy it.”
That he did. There was no merriment in pushing down a weak flower. He liked a confident woman.
“Roll.”
She fingered the dice for a moment before tossing her hand. Seven. How in the name of Beelzebub did she do that? She’d managed to roll a winning hand on the first roll. Twice.
“Mine!” she yelled excitedly. “You are mine to do with as I please.”
He kissed her hand, conceding the match. Then he got up from the table and walked over to the bed.
“Where would you like me, madam?”
“I’d like you to go and see about taking a bath. Then meet me downstairs.”
“I thought you would like to truss me up and torture me.”
She winked. “I did raise the stakes on this wager, but my initial bet still stands. Gather your necessities and I will have the servants draw up a bath for you. I shall take one myself.”
In three steps, he was behind her, slipping his arms around her waist. “We could always take a bath together.”
“I think we shall barely squeeze you into the copper tub as it is. Fitting us both in would be a feat.”
He tucked a lock of hair behind her ear and whispered. “You could sit on my lap.”
“I am sure you would like that very much.” She blushed. “Particularly considering my attempts to distract you into yielding the game. But we shall have plenty of time for more leisurely pursuits this evening.”
“And then you shall inflict your wicked will upon me?”
She turned in his arms to kiss his cheek. “I have not yet decided. We never specified when the prize should be collected.”
His mind churned at that thought. At any time, any place, she could ask him to kneel or lie down and secure him to a bed, a door, an armoire, a staircase. Though the staircase was unlikely, as Violet did not want to display her depravity in front of the servants. She reserved it for him.
