A Marquess for Christmas

by Vivienne Westlake

  Kit would go mad if he had to spend weeks trapped in here. He’d attempted escape three times, but he never made it farther than the front entrance. If it weren’t for Avery’s hawk eyes watching over him and the disappointment he’d feel at leaving Violet, he would have escaped and crept out in the wee hours before the servants woke.

  But he had no one except Violet. Flashes of memories were coming back to him, but not enough to piece his life together. He remembered his sister’s face, but how would he even go about looking for her? Kit could depart, find a tavern somewhere, go in search of his name, but each time he imagined leaving, Violet’s face appeared in his mind.

  I can go at anytime, he decided. But I do not want to go.

  He stood at the window, watching the clouds sweep across the sky, when he heard footsteps. He turned to see Violet. She wore a white morning dress made from a beautiful satin jacquard—too fine for a day gown, but something that had been repurposed. The yellow leafing on it brought out the green in her hazel eyes.

  “You look lovely.”

  “And you are out of bed.”

  “If you will come and sit with me, then I shall happily return to it.”

  She held out her arm and gestured for him to lie down.

  He hopped to the bed and grinned at her. “Satisfied?”

  “Any fever?” She leaned forward and touched his cheek. He turned toward her hand and kissed it.

  “Only the heat of your skin on mine.”

  Her mouth curved, but she did not give a full smile. “I think you shall recover.”

  “You have checked me every day for the past fortnight. Am I fit enough to leave this room?”

  “Let us see what Doctor Littleton says.”

  “That quack. He would have me abed for months. I am fine.”

  “Your bruises are subsiding, but the gash on your head is not well enough for you to travel. There is still the chance of infection. And what if your memory does not return?”

  Then I will stay here with you. Even confinement with her was better than being at home with Isabella. But he didn’t say the words. To mention Isabella was to admit that his memory was beginning to return.

  “It will.” He leaned toward her. “But in the meantime, let’s go outside. Hell, I would settle for going downstairs. I need some change of scenery.”

  She did not balk at his cursing. It wasn’t the first time he’d been loose-tongued with her and he knew it would not be the last.

  “Wait a few days. For now, you should rest as much as possible. Give yourself time to heal.”

  “My lady,” he said, tracing his finger over her cheek, “It is torture to lie still for days on end.” He leaned in closer. “Now, if you were lying with me, it would be a sweet pleasure.”

  Unable to help himself, he leaned in close to her and scented her thick, dark tresses, wishing he could release the pins and lose himself in the silky strands. A woman’s hair should be free and untamed like the sea.

  Her breath caught and he threaded his hands through her hair, keeping her close to him. His lips brushed against her neck and he could feel the pounding of her heart.

  Every ragged sound she made fueled his desire. This was why he obeyed her orders, why he stayed longer than he should. It was the promise of the passion he knew they could find together.

  She was nothing like the artful women who usually shared his bed, but nor was she the naive coquette attempting to seduce him into a betrothal. Violet Laurens was something new.

  Something danced at the corner of his mind—some memory, but trying to grasp it was as futile as grabbing a fistful of sand.

  This alluring woman was far more tempting. At this moment, she was all that mattered to him. Her voice, her touch, her glance the only world he needed to know.

  Loosening his fingers, he eased apart, but only so far that her nose was finger’s length from his. “I think you should close the door.”

  She threw a glance at door then watched him with eyes that went from amber to olive. “Why?”

  “Because I am going to touch you.”

  “You are already touching me.”

  He rested his forehead against hers. “I have barely begun.”

  She shivered in his embrace and he watched in fascination as her tongue swept over her lips and she rubbed them together.

  “We should not do this.”

  “Why not? You have no husband. I have no wife. No one will know.”

  The corner of her mouth quirked and she shot him a pointed look. “The servants know everything.”

  “True, but are they discreet?”

  “I trust Avery with my life. And Mrs. Norris would hang the others by their hair if they so much as looked askance at me.”

  “Then the question is, madam, do you want me to touch you?”

  She tilted her head and stared at him as if she could discern the mysteries of heaven in his gaze.

  Her fingers played with the cord on the neckline of his linen tunic. “I should say no.”

  Kit smiled, then slipped a finger under her chin, bringing their mouths close together. “Then that means yes.”

  “We do not know one another. And you are not fit to exert yourself. You should be resting.” When her legs shifted as if to stand, he gripped her thighs. The smooth satin felt soft under his palms, but it could never feel as good as the skin he longed to caress.

  “Who said anything about exerting myself?” There were many ways to take pleasure from her body. He intended on learning each and every one.

  “It is improper. I cannot take advantage of you.” She pushed off him and he was rewarded with a fine glimpse of her décolletage as she stood.

  His mouth watered, but he made himself look her in the eyes.

  “I thought I was the one taking advantage of you, my sweet.”

  “You are in my house, my bed—well, my guest bed. You are injured, possibly addled in the head—”

  He crossed his arms and gave her a hard stare. “I would have to be addled in the head to be in your house, in your bed, and not to want you. I may be temporarily bound, but do I look like a simpleton?”

  She turned and walked to the door. He smiled when he heard the creak as it closed and clicked into place. Victory was at hand.

  “You look like a wolf in sheep’s clothing,”

  “And you look delicious and delectable. How could I—voracious animal that I am—resist?”

  “We hardly know one another,” she said again.

  “I have every intention of getting to know you,” he replied, giving her a slow, thorough once-over. He threw off the blankets and put his feet on the cool wood floor. Though his leg wobbled a bit as he stood, he ignored it—along with the splitting pain in his head.

  “No!” she cried, rushing over to him. “You must not move from bed. The doctor was clear that you should only move when absolutely necessary. I will not have you taking ill again.”

  The fire in her voice rippled over him and instead of deterring him, it made him want more.

  He gripped her waist and lifted her to him. They were nose to nose again. “I will get back into bed—if you will join me in it.”

  “I should slap you for your impertinence.”

  He couldn’t help but grin. “Go ahead and try.”

  “Put me down!”

  “Kiss me and I will release you. For now.”

  “You are the most obstinate, arrogant man I have ever encountered.”

  “I am determined, my lady. I do whatever I have to do to get what I want.” He nibbled on her bottom lip, but did not give her the kiss he longed for. “Right now, I want you.”

  She pecked him on the forehead, a light kiss that ended before it ever began. Cool air pressed over that sweet spot where her lips had been. Damnation, she was smart.

  “I take it I did not specify where you should kiss me?”

  When she smiled, everything around her faded into a shadowy haze and he knew nothing but her grace. “No, sir, you did n
ot.”

  He eased her down, letting her body skim down over his until her feet touched the ground. By some miracle, he managed not to groan.

  “Call me Kit.”

  “Get back into the bed, Kit.”

  “And if I refuse?” His hands still gripped her waist. She was tall, which he loved, as it made it easier for him to look her in the eyes. Her frame was strong; if he squeezed, she could take it. And when he bent her over the bed or pulled her down to the floor, she wouldn’t break under his strength.

  She could fulfill every dark fantasy he’d ever dreamed of—and a few he hadn’t even contemplated before.

  “If you refuse, you shall not get the kiss you bargained for.”

  Was she merely teasing him to get his compliance or did she finally intend to give in to his demand? “And if I acquiesce?”

  She leaned into him, her cheek brushing against his, her bosom pressing into his arm. Warm breath fanned over his neck and his cock jerked to attention. Kit froze, not wanting to break the spell. What was she about?

  There was a sharp pain at first when her teeth closed over his earlobe, but it was soon followed by the gentle motions of her tongue. She squeezed the tender flesh between her teeth again, then sucked firmly.

  Kit had to reach down and press on his shaft. It ached, not as much as his head, but hot enough that if he wasn’t careful, he would throw caution to the wind and throw her across the bed and mount her like a raging bull.

  He closed his eyes, reveling in the feel of her doing wicked things to him. As she worked, he stroked her lower back. It took every ounce of his willpower not to grind into her, to be still and let her have her way with him.

  A breathy whisper tingled across his ear. “Go back to bed.”

  This time, Kit obeyed. He climbed into the sturdy oak bed and waited for Violet.

  She straightened her gown and slowly stepped toward the bed. She bent down and stroked his face, the caress light as a summer breeze.

  “You are a difficult patient. But I do reward obedience.”

  Bending down, she lowered her face to his, stopping when her mouth would have brushed his. She held there for ten seconds as he waited—counting in silence to stop himself from grabbing her neck and pulling her atop of him. This kiss was a gift, a reward, and he would receive it the way she chose to give it.

  At first, the kiss was soft, feathery, as tender and warm as she was. But then he heard the little moan she made and he couldn’t keep his hands off of her. He slid his palm up her plump derrière, pausing briefly near the juncture of her thighs and then continued upward to her waist. His free hand cupped her jaw, then swept up to thread his fingers tightly though the hair at the base of her neck. She would not get away easily.

  Violet responded with the slow glide of her tongue into his mouth. It was more than he asked for, though not nearly enough to satisfy him.

  He knew he should ease his way with her. She was no courtesan, no easy woman that he could ply with a few choice words or a pretty trinket and then delve between her thighs.

  As much as he wanted to take her, he knew it would be all the sweeter if he took his time. Her body was like a well that needed to be primed before the sweet water could be drawn.

  He was torn between the need to be skin to skin, lips to lips, drowning in pleasure and the desire to protect her and earn her trust. Why it should matter that he earned her affection, he could not fathom.

  Perhaps he merely wanted something to pass the time, to erase the boredom of being confined to this bed and these four walls. He needed a goal, needed a prize to pursue and what greater prize could he win than her?

  Chapter Six

  What was she doing? She should get up and walk away, not stay in bed kissing him. But she’d been wanting to taste him, to feel his mouth on hers for so long.

  And it was not as if they were total strangers. She’d nursed him for almost three weeks. He had not told her his family name yet, but did it matter? She was no innocent girl out in her first Season. If she succumbed to his advances, she knew exactly what she was doing.

  Touching him felt so good. She loved the little moments that allowed her to stroke his face, hold his hand or check the bruises on his chest. Even the ugly gashes on his head were tolerable because they meant that she could be close to him.

  She’d taken so many liberties already, what did it matter if she yielded to him completely? He obviously wanted her and she desired him as she’d not desired a man in years.

  As she drank from his lips, she moaned in pleasure. He was a sweet wine that she could not get enough of.

  When he cupped her bottom, she could feel the heat of his firm hands everywhere. They slid upward, skimming between her legs for the briefest moment before continuing on. She wanted it, wished he would linger there.

  She was wet and the tantalizing kiss only made her want more from him.

  His hands gripped her waist and she felt so soft under their strength. What would it feel like to have those hands on her every day? To be cherished by this man, who emanated power, even as he recovered from injury. What would he be like at full capacity?

  His hands cupped her jaw and she melted inside, but then he surprised her by gripping her hair and commanding her to yield. That only spurred her lust and she took his mouth fully, sliding her tongue along his, wanting a fulfillment only he could offer her.

  “Mmmmm.” She pressed her chest fully against his, loving the friction. Her nipples responded eagerly, going tight and rigid.

  She rotated her hips until she could feel his erection. Clenching her fingers into his shoulders, she steadied herself as she rubbed against him.

  His mouth took hers and this time, she was very aware of the difference. Her kiss was tender, exploratory. His consumed, drowned her deep in the waters of desire and there was nothing to save her.

  What had happened? A moment ago, she’d felt in control. She tasted and sampled him, all the while knowing that if she wanted to, she could pull away. But this, this was something she’d never experienced before.

  Could she retreat? Did she even want to?

  He made the decision for her, easing her down gently until she could open her eyes again. They were nose to nose now and as she looked into his brown eyes, she trembled. Ragged breaths were the only sound she could make.

  She dared not speak. That kiss had laid her soul bare and she could not voice the dark needs that had been exposed.

  Violet craved him, yearned for the coupling that was inevitable. Yet it terrified her. Because if she could react so strongly to a mere kiss, what would happen when he took her completely? The pleasure would be immense, but so would the pain.

  The truth lay there like the ugly wound on his crown. Kit would leave. Not today, of course, and perhaps not even next week, but he had a life before coming to Welbury Park. A life she knew nothing about. And while he might enjoy her company, the day would come when he would remember his past and decide his future was best without her.

  When Kit eased apart and shifted to lie beside her, she was grateful for the reprieve. Because she could not say no if he kissed her, touched her. But neither would the fear subside.

  “Let us take our time,” he said. He fingered a curl of her hair. “You are worth the time to savor.” He leaned in, and this time the kiss was soft and smooth like silk, coaxing rather than demanding. The smile he gave warmed her from head to toe. Not with desire, but something else.

  Violet did not know what to say, so she swept her fingers over the back of his hand, then his palm, relishing in the feel of her skin on his. There were tiny scars, most not visible to the naked eye, but her fingers found the subtle ridges and valleys. She traced each one slowly, wondering why he had so many marks on his body. They were far too old to be a result of his fight with the footpads.

  “Your body carries the marks of many old battles. Did you get them in the war?”

  He flinched, but his smile was molten gold. “Some.”

  “An
d…the others?”

  At first, the only sound breaking the quiet was a gentle howling of the wind outside. Violet waited, not looking directly at him, but fixing her gaze on his hand.

  “Let us say I have known my fair share of cuts, scrapes, and bloody noses.”

  Obviously, he remembered, but chose not to share it with her. It bothered her, though she couldn’t pinpoint why. Every man had his secrets; why should Kit be any different?

  The question was if he sought to protect her sensibilities from something crude or if he sought to hide something darker and unsavory. She knew so little about him. What if the man she knew was nothing like the man he was used to being?

  “You have seen many fights then. Is it something you seek or something that seeks you?”

  Kit tilted his head and gave her a quizzical stare. “Do you truly want to know?”

  “Yes.” If he lied to her in this, he would lie about something else. She needed to know more about the man she desired. Was he a creature of violence, a creature of necessity, or something else altogether?

  “I do not know what you saw the day we met. I still cannot remember the thieves on the road. But I am no stranger to the brunt of a fist. I have used mine on many opponents.” He held her hand. “I was a pugilist.”

  Images of burly men even bigger than Avery pounding their fists into Kit’s body made her heart squeeze. She touched his face, noting every scar and blemish. She ran her fingers over the bridge of his nose, which had a small jagged spot where it had once been broken.

  Violet wrapped her arms around his neck, holding him close until she could feel his heartbeat. Her cool cheek pressed into his warm one. The trembling inside subsided as she felt his firm arms around her.

  Then she looked into his gaze. They watched one another for a moment.

  A thought came to her. He must be good with his hands because his body would be in foul shape if he’d lost many matches. She’d gone with John to a couple of matches in London. It was bloody and brutal, but somehow fascinating.