The Wicked Deeds of Daniel Mackenzie hp-6

by Jennifer Ashley

  Daniel lifted one of her hands, opened it, kissed her palm, and placed her hand on his bared chest. Violet’s eyes widened a little as she contacted his skin, and he saw fear flash.

  “Do what you like,” he said. “Touch. Feel. Scratch. Whatever you want. But slowly.”

  Violet’s lower lip shook once before she pressed her mouth into a firm line. She let her hand rest, still, on his chest a moment, then she curled her fingers a little bit, points on his skin. The tip of her middle finger just brushed his nipple.

  Would he be able to sit still for this? Daniel’s heart beat hard, his skin dampening in the warming room.

  Violet swallowed as she drew her finger across his tight areola. Fire trailed from her touch, but Daniel held himself back from reaching for her.

  He watched Violet’s fear start to lessen as she focused on his chest. Daniel never seemed to be able to keep his skin covered when he worked on his engines out of doors or helped his father with the horses. Every summer his skin turned a rich red brown and took its time fading over the winter. Now his chest, back, and arms were a light bronze, and the tattoo, which he’d gotten in London from a man from the Japans, was dark against his skin.

  Wisps of Violet’s hair tickled him as she leaned closer, but Daniel held himself back. This was already killing him, but she needed to learn not to be afraid of him.

  Violet’s breath brushed his areola, which tightened even more. Daniel’s cock tightened in direct response.

  Now she was almost nuzzling him, breathing in, as though getting herself used to his scent. Daniel couldn’t stop the little grunt in his throat.

  Violet raised her head, cheeks flushed. “Don’t.”

  “Don’t what? Enjoy a beautiful woman examining me?”

  “I don’t know.” Her puzzled look was endearing.

  “Let me put this another way,” Daniel said. “When we were in that inn, far away from everywhere, ye weren’t afraid of me.” He remembered her response when he’d slid his hand inside her nightgown, when he’d begun to seduce her with slow kisses. “You kissed me back. You weren’t running away then.”

  “It was different. Not real, somehow.”

  It had been plenty real. Daniel remembered every second of it. “Well then, if it’s easier for you, this doesn’t have to be real either.”

  She frowned. “But it is. Too real.”

  “But it’s the same, isn’t it? We’re hidden away while the city teems around us. No one here but you and me.”

  Violet shook her head. “This is very real. But I want it to be real.” She looked up at him, hope and fear mixed in her eyes. “Can it ever be?”

  “It can. Oh yes. Come here a minute.” Daniel snaked his arm around her and very gently pulled her to him, until her head was resting on his shoulder. “Let’s just sit here, shall we? And take what comes?”

  This was definitely going to kill him. Never, ever had Daniel contented himself with merely sitting still with a woman, however beautiful. But his ladies, usually older than he—he couldn’t bring himself to be with courtesans who were barely more than girls—rarely wanted to sit still. They wanted Daniel and didn’t hide it.

  Violet was like an untamed colt, one that had been mistreated, who looked out at the world in frightened uncertainty. Daniel didn’t want to break her, as trainers sometimes did with the young horses. He needed to gentle her, to earn her trust.

  Her head was warm on his shoulder, and Daniel felt Violet start to relax. If he had to spend another night snuggled down in a cozy nest with her, only sleeping, so be it. Daniel might have to lock himself in his private bath when he returned to his hotel, but he would accept that.

  “I don’t understand desire,” Violet said softly.

  Daniel leaned to catch the words, unsure he’d heard correctly. “What’s to understand? Desire comes naturally. The most natural thing in the world.”

  “Is it?” Violet settled herself more comfortably on his shoulder, her hand stealing to his bare chest. “I watch others seek passion—so many girls want me, as a fortune-teller, to promise them true love; men ask me if their true loves will have them. It can lead to much pain too—women ask me to tell them whether their husbands are betraying them, and they’re so hurt inside. It’s awful. I wonder that anyone wants to seek another’s bed at all.”

  “Mmm. That’s right cynical of you, sweetheart.”

  “It’s just that I’ve seen so much pain. All because of what people call desire.”

  Daniel knew that some cock-brained men had no interest in what their ladies felt—either physically or emotionally. They believed a woman was for a man’s use, nothing more. Courtesans told Daniel they liked him because he talked to them. To them, as people, not as bodies paid to behave the way he wanted.

  Violet wasn’t only a body, though Jacobi and this other man had forced her to be just that. They’d taught her that desire meant pain and fear. Her own needs had to have grown as she blossomed from girl to woman, but those needs would have been mixed with terror and shame. Daniel had met other women who’d been forced. They either grew cynical and decided that being used by men was their lot, or they shattered completely.

  Violet had done neither, but her struggle to go on had been a hard one. Still was, if Daniel was any judge.

  He caressed Violet’s shoulder, trying to choose words that wouldn’t upset her. “I know a few reasons why we give in to passion, my sweet. First, it’s scientific. If you’ve read Mr. Darwin, he claimed we all live to make as many copies of ourselves as we can, knowing we’ll have to leave this earth someday. If we didn’t make those copies, there soon wouldn’t be many of us left, would there?”

  Violet smiled a little, in spite of her anxiousness. “He was talking about animals. Not people.”

  “Many people I know act like animals—you’d be amazed.” Daniel brought up his other arm to enclose her in a circle of warmth, but he didn’t hold her tightly. No trapping her. “I’ll tell you that we seek passion because it can be a wonderful thing. The intimacy of it. You’ll never be as close to another human being in any other way.” He kissed the top of her head, liking that she didn’t fight being surrounded by his arms. “Besides, it just feels good.”

  “To men, perhaps,” Violet said, perfectly serious. “Women don’t feel what men do.”

  Daniel blinked in surprise. He turned his head and looked down at her. Violet looked back at him serenely, entirely believing every word she’d said.

  “My sweet Violet, I’ll lay you ten to one odds you’re wrong about that.”

  The answering sparkle in Violet’s eyes made Daniel’s body go incandescent. Her assurance was returning, the dark terror she’d been reliving starting to ease.

  “Oh?” Violet said. “How much would you be willing to put up?”

  “Let’s say a shilling. I wouldn’t want to beggar you.”

  “Done.” Violet held out her hand. Daniel took it, his smile turning wicked. Violet looked away again, confident she could never lose this bet. Poor woman.

  “Anyway, how would you prove it?” she asked. “You only have a woman’s word for it, and I must tell you, Mr. Mackenzie, that women can be notorious liars, especially when they want something.”

  “Telling me pretty tales so I’ll give them money? Aye, you’re not wrong about that. But I’m going to prove it. Here and now.”

  Violet glanced up in alarm. “What do you mean here and now? You said . . . I thought . . .”

  “I said I wouldn’t rush you. And I won’t.” Daniel touched her cheek. “But I never promised I wouldn’t make you feel astonishingly good.”

  Her eyes flickered with fear again. “Daniel, I don’t . . . I’m not ready.”

  Daniel’s need to erase her fear surged. He drew her into a hug, touching his lips to her temple. “I won’t enter you, love. Not tonight, if you don’t want it. I promise.” Daniel always kept his promises, no matter how difficult they might be.

  Violet looked confused. “Then how will
you prove it? You can’t by simply putting the thought into my head. I won’t believe you.”

  Daniel couldn’t stop his laughter. “Violet. Lass.” He let his voice go low, coaxing. “You are good at knowing what people want to hear from those on the other side. You are an expert at giving them a show that amazes them. Well, this is my area of expertise. You give yourself into my hands, and I guarantee you’ll be handing over your shilling so fast the room will spin.”

  “You are very sure of yourself, Daniel Mackenzie.”

  “Because this I know how to do. Tonight you’ll feel no pain and no fear. Only good things. Better than good. All right?”

  Violet’s assurance vanished. She obviously had no idea what Daniel meant to do, and that was very sad.

  “Remember when we were up in the balloon?” Daniel asked. “Sailing across the land, going where the wind took us?”

  Violet’s smile returned, her eyes softening in remembered delight. “Yes. That was wonderful.”

  “It will be like that.”

  She didn’t believe him. “How can that be? I’ve never felt anything like it before.” Violet looked hopeful. “Will you take me ballooning again sometime?”

  “Of course I will. I told you, we’ll go up in Scotland. Beautiful, and the winds are unpredictable. Very exciting. But for now . . .” Daniel eased Violet back against the scrolled end of the sofa. “You must let me try to win the wager.”

  Violet wet her lips, the nervous movement stroking moisture across her mouth. “What do I have to do?”

  “That’s the beauty of it. You don’t have to do anything.” Daniel positioned himself so he sat on the edge of the sofa, with Violet lying back against the cushions. “I’ll take good care of you.”

  Violet nodded, the gesture stiff.

  “But you talk to me,” Daniel went on. “If you want to know why I’m doing what I’m doing, or you get scared, you tell me. Promise?”

  “Promise.” The word was barely a breath.

  “All right then.” Daniel let his voice go soft. “Off we go.”

  Chapter 18

  Violet had no idea what Daniel meant to do. All kinds of scenarios flashed through her head, every one of them frightening.

  Against her fear came the gentleness in his voice when he said, I’ll take good care of you.

  Violet trembled, but she waited.

  Daniel unlaced her boots and drew them, one at a time, from her feet. Violet flexed her toes in her thick stockings, her feet cramped from the night’s sitting and the walk from the carriage.

  Daniel’s hands were strong. He cradled both feet, drawing his thumbs around her instep, massaging the tension there.

  It felt good, yes, but a foot rub was a long way from the so-intimate act they’d been speaking of. Even Mary rubbed Violet’s feet sometimes.

  But then, a massage from Daniel was a great deal different from one from Mary. Mary was briskly competent. Daniel, on the other hand, gave Violet a slow smile, which turned mundane foot rubbing into something bordering the erotic.

  Daniel lifted one stockinged foot as he moved his thumbs over the arch of it. Then he leaned down and carefully bit her toes.

  Violet gasped and tried to jerk her foot away. “What if my stockings were dirty?”

  Daniel captured her again. “The efficient Violet? Put on soiled stockings? I don’t think so. But if it worries you . . .”

  He slid his hands up her leg until his fingers caught on the tie of her plain garter. Violet remembered how Daniel had checked her for breaks or hurts when they’d crash-landed the balloon. The frisson of delight as his fingers had touched her calves had unnerved her then, and it unnerved her now.

  Daniel’s hands were firm and sure, and he made short work of the garter. Her stocking loosened, and Daniel slid it down and off her leg.

  He slid off her other stocking in the same way then moved Violet’s bare feet back to his lap, beginning another massage.

  “You have lovely toes.” But Daniel was looking into her eyes, his smile so sinful Violet wasn’t certain whether to squirm or laugh.

  He lifted one foot, cradling her heel in his hand. He kissed the tips of her toes then the ball of her foot. The tickling tingle became a burn of pleasure.

  Daniel slid his hot touch up her bare leg, her skirt and petticoat rising as he went. Her loose lawn drawers moved upward under Daniel’s skilled touch, until his thumbs brushed the soft skin on her inner thighs.

  Violet had never realized how sensitive she was there. When Violet washed herself, her thighs were as neutral to her as the inside of her arms or the space between her shoulder blades.

  When Daniel touched her, her perception changed. His fingers did a sweet dance, streaks of heat, a feeling Violet couldn’t define. She found herself clutching the back of the sofa, her fingers sinking into its soft fabric.

  Daniel’s fingers stopped, and Violet swallowed disappointment.

  “Ye all right, love?”

  “Yes.” Violet could barely say the words. “I’m . . . fine.”

  “Good. Because these come off next.” Daniel tugged at the buttons of her drawers.

  Her eyes widened. “No . . . I mean, I don’t think I can.”

  “But I must win my wager.” Daniel’s eyes were dark in the firelight, his smile soft. “A gentleman never backs out of a wager. He pays his debt of honor. Or collects his debt, as the case may be.”

  “You’re not making any sense,” Violet stammered.

  “That’s because I’m dying for you, and my thoughts are a bit incoherent.”

  Daniel didn’t look as though he were dying. His fingers were steady as he unbuttoned her drawers, his gaze holding Violet’s.

  Swiftly and competently, Daniel slid the drawers down over her hips. In no time at all, Violet found herself sitting bare bottomed on the sofa, her skirt hiked up over her knees.

  She automatically grabbed her skirt and petticoats to pull them down again. Daniel caught her hands, kissed them, then set them to either side of her while he pushed her skirts all the way up to bare her thighs.

  Now the panic started to come. Violet clutched his hands. “Daniel.”

  The red-bearded man had done this—pushed up her skirts, though he’d ripped open her drawers instead of politely unbuttoning them. Violet had thought the cloth tearing from her had hurt, but she’d been unprepared for the searing pain that followed.

  “Violet,” Daniel said, his voice cutting through the fog. “You’re not there. You’re here. With me. On the sofa in my somewhat untidy flat. And I’ve got you, sweetheart.”

  Yes. She was here. With Daniel. Far from the trivia of her daily life, the endless need to keep busy, busy, so she could forget.

  “Keep me here,” Violet pleaded.

  “I will. I promise you.”

  Daniel gently extricated himself from her grip, smoothed his hand over the top of her knee, and kissed it. “I want you to do something for me. Imagine something very”—he kissed her other knee—“sensual. The most sensual thing you can think of. One that pleases you, not one you think would please me. Keep it locked inside yourself. You don’t have to tell me what it is if you don’t want to.”

  Sensual. Violet strove to calm her breathing as she thought. The most sensual image she could call to mind was . . . Daniel.

  Daniel lying on the floor of an empty bedroom, his hands behind his head as he laughed up at her. Daniel sitting up, cross-legged, his eyes narrowing as he closed his lips around a black cigarette.

  Daniel’s hand on Violet’s waist, daring her to take the cigarette and put her lips where his had been . . . He’d watched her with eyes the color of dark whiskey, as he watched her now.

  Violet snapped back to the present. She realized Daniel had moved his thumbs to her bare opening, drawing them along the slickness there.

  Violet went still, breath catching. Daniel stroked lightly, barely touching her, but the contact was there. The watery sensation of it made her dizzy.

  “
Sensual,” Daniel repeated. “Close your eyes. Hold on to those thoughts. No others.”

  Easy to say. No one had ever touched her there except the red-bearded man long ago, and he hadn’t exactly touched her. Pried, forced her apart, hurt her. Nothing like Daniel caressing her as though he cherished her.

  Violet couldn’t stop her trembling, but she closed her eyes again. She forced her mind back to Daniel in the bedroom, his smile when she showed him she wasn’t afraid to take the cigarette, his look of satisfaction when he leaned down and tasted the smoke on her lips.

  Her thoughts switched to waking up next to Daniel in the inn, the warm scent of him in the bed with her. How he’d slid his hand so carefully inside her nightdress to tenderly cup her breast. He’d moved over her, giving her the deep, intimate kiss before the innkeeper’s wife had come in with breakfast.

  Violet’s imagination took it further. In her fantasy, they stayed in the bed together, no innkeeper’s wife interrupting. Violet would close her arms around Daniel, running her hands down his body, bare beneath his nightshirt. She’d find the warmth of his backside, lift the nightshirt to touch him.

  Dimly, in the present, Violet felt Daniel’s fingers stroking her, touching her. Then another warmth, his breath on her thighs.

  Violet’s eyes sprang open. Daniel held Violet’s skirts out of his way as he kissed her left thigh, his unshaved whiskers brushing her skin. He touched her opening again then lifted his hand away and replaced it with his mouth.

  Violet sucked in a sharp breath. What . . . ? She went stiff, tight, uncertain.

  Daniel parted her legs, but carefully, kind hands on Violet’s thighs. He kissed her, breath as hot as she was, and then his tongue . . .

  A groan escaped her lips. Daniel licked her, kissed her again. He chuckled. “Close your eyes, sweet. Lie back. Think about whatever you were thinking. You were obviously enjoying it.”

  Violet stared down at him a moment longer. She’d never dreamed a man would think of doing this, but her education in such matters was lacking. After what had happened to her, she’d shut herself off from all interest in what men did to women.