Violet looked surprised. “But he’s a duke.”
Daniel laughed. “And they should all be stuffed shirts? Uncle Hart is a master of pleasure. He could be the ultimate hedonist if he chose. I tried to get him to tell me some of his secrets, but he sent me off, so I had to learn them myself.”
He speared another strawberry, dipped it in chocolate, and let the chocolate run in a ribbon back into the bowl.
Violet’s gaze went to the dripping chocolate, her lips parting as Daniel lifted the fork to her. The room was already warm, and Violet leaning forward in pursuit of the strawberry made Daniel break into a sweat. God help me.
Violet closed her mouth around the strawberry, her eyes drifting shut. She finished the strawberry, a drop of chocolate falling to her chin. “I’ll get chocolate all over this frock if I continue.”
She reached for a napkin, but Daniel leaned forward and licked her chin clean. “I can think of a way to remedy that.” He let his smile grow as hedonistic as Mac’s ever did. “Take off the gown.”
Violet started. Her gloved hand went to the décolletage, over which her plump bosom swelled.
For a moment, Daniel thought she would refuse—and well she should—then she breathed a laugh. “Perhaps I had too much champagne, but I think it a good idea.”
Daniel hid his relief. “I think so too. For me as much as for you.”
Without giving her time to change her mind, Daniel shrugged off his frock coat, then his waistcoat. With the room so heated by the large coal stove, it was a relief to take off the outer layers.
“I’ll need help with the buttons again,” Violet said, her look shy.
No trouble. Daniel’s breathing was unsteady as Violet turned and presented her back to him. Daniel slid next to her on the sofa and undid the buttons, one by one.
Her bare back came into view above the corset. Daniel ran his hand across her skin. Soft, smooth. He kissed it.
Violet had stripped off the gloves, and now pushed down the front of the gown as she stood up. With great care, she slid out of the skirt and bodice and laid the gown on the other sofa, along with the gloves.
She sat down again in her corset and petticoats, her shoulders and arms bare, and looked at Daniel. “You might get your shirt dirty as well.”
“Aye.” Daniel unfastened his collar and the shirt, pulling them off, then got out of his undershirt as well. He liked the way Violet’s gaze flicked to his chest then to the tattoo on his arm.
Violet’s look was still shy, but she forked up a strawberry, covered it in chocolate, and offered it to Daniel. Daniel licked the thread of chocolate that spilled down from it, then drew the berry into his mouth. He smiled at Violet as he chewed, tasting sweet, bright strawberry and smooth, rich chocolate.
“My turn.” Daniel prepared another strawberry, but he held it away as Violet reached for it with her mouth. He let the chocolate snake across her collarbone before he tucked the strawberry between her lips.
As she feasted on the strawberry, Daniel leaned down and licked her collarbone clean.
Chocolate and Violet. A wonderful combination. He felt the swallow in her throat, and kissed it.
When he looked up at her, she was smiling, her eyes relaxed. She’d plucked up another strawberry with her fork while he’d savored her, and now she loaded it with chocolate. She held the fork over Daniel and let chocolate swirl deliberately over his bare shoulders.
The chocolate was warm and tickled. “Oh yes?” Daniel asked when Violet sat back and ate the strawberry herself. “And what are you going to do about that?” He pointed at the wavy line of chocolate.
Violet hesitated a moment, not looking at him, then she very slowly leaned to him. She stilled for a long time, her breath brushing his skin, before she completed the move and touched her tongue to the chocolate.
Daniel smothered a groan. He let his hand come up to the back of her neck, his body tightening as Violet licked across his shoulder.
With any other woman, Daniel would end the playing at once, lay her down on the carpet, get rid of the rest of their clothes, and consummate what they’d started.
But no other woman was Violet. The story she’d told him last night had made Daniel furious but also made him understand how fragile she was. He didn’t want to frighten her away, destroying what little trust he’d already gained from her. But proceeding slowly was fine. If it took Daniel the rest of his life to seduce her, so be it.
Violet raised her head, chocolate on her mouth. Daniel kissed it off, slowly imbibing the sweet chocolate from her plump, warm lips.
“My turn,” he said.
Daniel took his time drawing a curlicue design across her chest, giving her a slow smile as he let the chocolate dip between her breasts. He fed Violet the strawberry before he gently lowered her to the sofa and started savoring her.
Violet’s hand came up to land on his shoulder, fingers tight. Then her fingers relaxed, as though she’d thought to stop him then determined to enjoy what he did. Daniel slowly kissed her breast, sucking a little to rid it of chocolate, leaving a tiny mark behind, his mark.
Beautiful, sweet Violet. He’d never met anyone like her. He was falling in love with her, and he didn’t even know her last name.
Daniel raised his head and kissed her mouth. He tasted the strawberries on her tongue, the dark tang of chocolate. The kiss was unhurried, exploring.
Violet was sensuality itself, in her white linen corset against the blue of the sofa, her breasts rising over the corset, her hair coming down, her blue eyes dark in the dimly lit room.
“She walks in beauty, like the night,” Daniel said.
“We’re not walking, we’re lying on the sofa.” Violet’s smile spoke of a night of drinking champagne. “And we are being very naughty.”
“Oh, are we?” Daniel traced her lips, which bore a faint ring of chocolate. “I think we could be even naughtier.”
“So do I.”
Violet’s smile was inviting, but Daniel saw the flicker of fear return to her eyes. She’d built a wall to keep her panic at bay, and he saw the worry in her that the wall would crumble at the slightest touch.
“Violet.” Daniel rested his crossed arms on her breasts. “When you’re not afraid of me—truly not afraid—you tell me. All right?”
Violet drew a sharp breath, but she nodded.
Daniel touched her cheek. “Remember what I told you? You need slow goodness, not to rush. You and me, we have all the time in the world.”
He saw her skeptical little frown and pressed his finger to her lips, stilling her answer. “Even if you don’t believe me, I believe me,” he said. “You and I will tear apart this town. In the meantime . . .” Daniel sat up again and reached for the bowl of chocolate. “I plan to get you very messy.” He took the spoon from the bowl and let a huge dollop of chocolate fall on her chest.
Violet squealed, then laughed. She put her hand into the bowl, scooped up chocolate onto her fingers, and smeared it across his pectorals.
Daniel’s eyes widened. “Och, if that’s the way you want to play it . . .” He grabbed the chocolate bowl, discarded the spoon, and started smearing chocolate on her with his hands.
They tumbled from the couch the short distance to the rug, then they were touching, licking the chocolate from each other’s bodies. Daniel reached up and brought the chocolate down to them. He swept it across her lips then kissed her again, slowly, sweetly. Chocolate and Violet all mixed up.
She looked surprised when he put the chocolate right on her tongue, then softened as Daniel took it from her in a long kiss. He suckled her tongue, and Violet wrapped her arms around him to kiss him back. Violet was laughing and beautiful, and Daniel determined to slide his mouth over every bit of her exposed skin.
They continued to play until the chocolate was gone, and the night of champagne and sleeplessness began to catch up to Violet. In the early morning, Daniel carried her to the bedroom, she limp in his arms and showing no protest. He laid her on his
bed, covered her up, and came down next to her, prepared to enjoy another hour of sleep with this wonderful woman.
Violet woke to sunshine and to Daniel sprawled next to her, his bare chest and arms stained with chocolate.
She smiled as he drew a breath in a long, soft snore. Another night of touching, kissing, enjoying, and Violet had not felt any fear.
But it was morning now, and her mother would be waking, wondering where Violet was. Violet needed to go home, to again become the dutiful daughter, the one who decided how they would all hold together.
As though he knew she watched him, Daniel cracked open his eyes. He looked at her a moment then he groaned and rubbed his forehead. “Damned champagne. Pure whiskey doesn’t leave me with this head.”
“Wait. Don’t sit up.”
Violet scooted to the head of the bed, knelt back, and rested Daniel’s head on her knees. She began massaging his temples in a light, circular motion.
“Mmm,” he rumbled. “That’s nice.”
Daniel was nice, with the covers around his waist, his chest touched with chocolate. His short hair was sleek under her fingertips, warm with sleep.
“I do this for my mother,” Violet said. “She’s susceptible to headaches and says I make them go away.”
“I see why.” Daniel hummed again.
“I have to go home.” Violet couldn’t keep the note of sorrow out of her voice.
Daniel tangled his fingers through one of her hands and brought it to his lips. “One day, love, you won’t have to. You’ll send the world to hell and stay with me.” He kissed her fingers again, slow, sensual. “That will be a fine day.”
Yes, it would be. But for now, Violet had her mother, her obligations, and the wretched reality of life.
Daniel rubbed the back of her hand with his thumb. “I’ll see you again soon. Later today, in fact. I’ll arrange everything.”
He must mean going back to the country inn. Violet knew that if she went there with Daniel, she’d surrender to him.
But first, she’d tell him everything, every dark detail about herself—what had happened afterward with Jacobi, the other reasons Jacobi had convinced her to stay, and why she’d found the courage to finally flee him. Daniel might loathe her and turn her away, but he deserved to know.
What she’d experienced with Daniel so far had been playful and lovely. Daniel, a wealthy and pleasure-seeking man, might want nothing more than play. In that case, nothing mattered. He made the rules of the game, not Violet.
But she could not move forward until she told him. It mattered to her.
If Daniel still wanted her after that, she’d surrender her body, never mind her fears. But she’d let it be his choice.
Violet leaned down and kissed him. The kiss turned long, passionate, filled with need.
Daniel was the one who broke away. He threaded his fingers through her hair and gave her a look that was so tender her heart ached. “Go do what you need to, Vi. And wait for me to come.”
She nodded. It took a while for both of them to leave the bed; more touching and kissing slowing them. Violet dressed with Daniel’s assistance, but the lump in her throat was so hard she couldn’t swallow the coffee the hotel staff had left outside the suite’s door.
“Violet, darling, where on earth have you been?” Celine put another two lumps of sugar into her tea and stirred it noisily as Violet slipped into the sitting room at the boardinghouse. “I have two people wanting private séances today, and we must be ready.” Celine’s tone softened as she looked Violet over. “Where did you get that lovely dress? You look very fetching in it, my dear.”
Violet looked down at herself, aware that she still wore the borrowed costume and slippers. She’d have to sneak them back into the theatre sometime today. But she’d been loath to stuff the beaded dress into her valise at the hotel and resume the shirtwaist and skirt. Daniel had picked out this ensemble, and she wanted to wrap the wonderful evening around her as long as she could.
Violet poured herself the strong tea the boardinghouse provided and took a sip. It was disagreeable, especially after the excellent food she’d tasted last night, not to mention the chocolate. But the champagne had rather given her a headache.
Mary answered a soft knock on the door. One of the boardinghouse’s maids put her head around it.
“Mademoiselle, a man has come to see you,” the maid said to Violet. “I put him in the parlor downstairs. He is waiting there.”
Daniel? Violet thought excitedly. So soon? But when Daniel decided to do something, Violet had noted, he did not wait to do it. She’d have to explain that her mother had appointments today and would need Violet after all, but Daniel would no doubt have contingencies for that.
Violet thanked the maid and said she’d be down at once. She went to her room to smooth her hair and wash the remnants of chocolate from her face before she descended to the ground floor. Drawing a long breath, she opened the door of the parlor.
And found herself looking at Monsieur Lanier, the banker who’d hired them a couple of nights ago. With him stood two men in the uniforms of the French police.
Violet halted, frozen.
“Yes, that is the one,” Monsieur Lanier said. “Told me she was a princess from Russia. Then she and her friend tried to rob me.”
The policemen looked stern. “Mademoiselle, we will have to take you for questioning,” one said.
Violet stared at them for another stunned moment, then she turned and ran.
It wasn’t panic that made her run, or a sense of guilt. The agreement was that if the police in whatever town they were in came after them, Violet, the swiftest runner, would lead them on a merry chase. This would give Mary time to gather what she could and take Celine to safety. Violet would meet up with them later at the designated rendezvous.
Violet picked up her skirts and ran down the street, the old-fashioned high-heeled slippers clicking on the cobbles. The police came right behind her, swift on their feet.
The boardinghouse maid really should have mentioned the visitor’s name and that he’d brought the police, Violet thought in irritation. Probably the policemen had told her not to. The landlady, who didn’t much like them, must have agreed. Blast and bother.
Violet had no money with her, but she knew how to be resourceful. She’d slip away from the policemen and find some way to get herself to the meeting point.
This meant she’d have to leave Daniel behind. Violet had never regretted departing any town, even the lovely ones, but now her heart swelled with pain. She didn’t dare send Daniel word, even a good-bye. She and her mother must disappear again.
The beautiful time she’d had with Daniel, her awakening, was over.
He’d searched for Violet the last time she’d vanished. Would he this time? Or would Daniel have lost interest in chasing her?
She knew where his family lived in London. She’d made it her business to know. Violet could write to him and explain, sending the letter to Ainsley. After she got her mother to safety. Daniel might not answer, might not look for her, might not even bother to read the letter. But she had to try.
Violet swerved into a narrow, arched passage between houses, trying to be light on her feet in the foul-smelling muck. She’d gone halfway along it before she realized the policemen were no longer following her. The entrance to the passage remained empty, the only sound the echo of her shoes and her labored breathing.
Violet let her satin skirts drop, never mind the muck. Damn it. If the policemen had given up on Violet so soon, they’d gone back to find Violet’s mother.
Celine couldn’t be arrested. She’d take ill if she went to jail, unable to bear the cold, the foul airs. She was too delicate for such things. And Mary—Mary had been arrested for stealing clothes once upon a time in London, released only because the magistrate said he didn’t have enough evidence for a trial. Mary had stolen to feed herself and her child, who had died all the same of some pestilence that had raged through the poorer parts of
London.
Mary was much more resilient than Celine, but if the police discovered her past arrest, they might ship her back to London. A magistrate might not be so lenient for a second offense, and who knew what influence Monsieur Lanier, a rich and respectable banker, would have.
Violet jogged back through the passage to the morning streets. Those on early errands stared at her in her beaded velvet and satin as she ran past. She reached the boardinghouse again, yanked open the door, and dashed inside and up the stairs.
The police were clustered, with Monsieur Lanier and the landlady, at the door to their private rooms. The landlady’s keys clinked as she prepared to unlock the door.
Violet rushed forward. “No!”
The landlady, ignoring her, unlocked and threw open the door.
The sitting room was empty. Celine and Mary were gone, the breakfast things scattered, the tea cooling, the remnants of an omelet congealing.
Violet exhaled in relief. Mary had gotten Celine away. Her mother would be safe.
Violet, on the other hand, was seized, her hands shoved together in front of her, iron cuffs clapped around her wrists.
The cold of the cuffs stirred Violet’s panic. Pushed aside for too long, it rose like a monster—Trapped, trapped, can’t run.
The panic made her fight. She kicked and bit, screams escaping her mouth before she could stop them. Her terror was complete when she felt a hand go down the front of her bodice—she was certain the two policemen and Monsieur Lanier were about to share her between them. And no one would help her.
The policeman jerked his hand from her bodice. “Nothing. She didn’t hide the money there.”
Violet, her breath ragged, managed a glare at them all. “My solicitor will have something to say about this.” She tried for imperious tones, but her voice came out weak and scratchy.
“You see? She’s not Russian at all,” Monsieur Lanier said. “A pure fraud. Probably from the gutters of Paris.”
The Wicked Deeds of Daniel Mackenzie hp-6 Page 24
