by Jenna Jaxon
Should she knock or simply open the door? Of course, he’d probably locked it. She raised her hand to knock. What if he didn’t want her in his bed tonight? She lowered her hand. He hadn’t intimated it either while they ate or afterward when they kissed goodnight. Surely, he would have at least hinted at it if he desired to spend the night with her.
The door behind her remained closed, a faint buzzing through the wood the only sign of life. Her resolve firmed. They were to be married tomorrow or the next day. He wanted her. The memory of the touch of his skin on hers, the thought of his heavy body pressing her into the mattress as he claimed her as his once more drove her to scratch at the door.
“Tris?” She could scarcely hear the whisper herself. To hell with doubt. She plunged the handle down and the door swung inward. She scurried in and shut the door quietly, mindful of being caught in the corridor.
The room was cloaked in darkness. Not even a crack of light showed through the break in the curtains, although the dim glow of the fireplace became apparent as her eyesight adjusted. She peered into the shadows where she believed the bed might be.
The click of a pistol being cocked reverberated in the cool air.
Chapter 31
Violet stopped dead and clamped her hand over her mouth. She had entered the wrong room and was about to be shot for her mistake. Should she dive for the door? Drop to the floor? The room’s inhabitant would likely aim high. Or should she call out and announce herself? She could explain she’d gotten into the wrong room—which was nothing but the truth. The man—she assumed the occupant was a man—might fire first, without letting her identify herself.
“I’d suggest exiting the room now, whoever you are, unless you wish a ball in your buttocks,” a man spoke in an even voice from the inky blackness to her right.
“Tris?” Violet swayed, almost swooning at the familiar sound of her beloved.
“Violet!”
A light flared, illuminating Tris propped up in bed, clothed but for his boots and jacket. “What the devil…what are you…” His eyes seemed huge and dark in the dim light of the single candle. The scowl on his face, however, was plain enough. He scrambled from the bed, tucking the pistol into his waistband. Two strides and he stood before her. “I could have shot you.”
“I’m rather glad you did not, my love.” Giddy with relief, she laid her head on his shoulder. “There are so many more peasant things I can think of for you to do to me.”
His chest heaved and he clutched her to him. “What on earth are you doing in my chamber?” Stepping back, he peered at her, all the lines in his face hard as stone. “I paid for a maid to keep your reputation spotless until we can marry.”
“My reputation hasn’t been spotless since I met you.” She tried to suppress a giggle at his frown and failed. “And I am here because I cannot wait one more day to be with you, my love.” She ran her hand down his firm jaw, the scratch of his night beard thrilling to her fingertips.
“Violet. Love.” Shaking his head, he gathered her back to his chest. “I could wish for nothing more either, than to have you in my bed.” He sighed and a tremor ran through him. “However, should anyone find you in here…”
Determined to have her way, she laid her hand over his lips. “Let them. I do not care what they will say, if anyone is even interested. Simon Harper may put out lies about me, but we shall be married tomorrow, God willing. And I doubt anyone will want to besmirch the reputation of Viscountess Trevor, especially after you trounce Mr. Harper.” She turned his head until all he could see was her face. “Please let me stay. Love me, Tris. Please love me.”
“Darling. Oh, my love.” He kissed her lips until her breath ran out. “I have dreamed of this moment ever since I left you.” His arms around her in a fierce grip, he seemed to never want to let her go. “We shall love one another tonight, and damn the consequences.” Kisses rained down upon her as he caressed her eyes, her cheeks, her neck.
Chills raced down her spine. Her toes tingled and her body flashed hot and cold by turns. Nothing had ever felt as wonderful as his lips on her. “Oh God, what are you doing to me, Tris?”
“It’s what I want to do to you, my love, that matters most.” He growled, the vibration tickling her neck.
“Hmmm.” She rubbed her breasts against his shirt, the snowy linen sheer enough she could see the interest in his puckered nipples, hard as bullets. Dropping her head to his chest, she licked one of the tiny points through his shirt. The feel of his flesh on her tongue, even through the material, made her core ache with need.
With a groan, Tris squeezed her arms. “We need to remove your clothes. Now.”
At last. “What you will, my lord.” She backed toward the bed, inching her nightgown over first one, then the other shoulder. Her training at Madame Vestry’s would be put to good use tonight. She twitched her shoulders and the garment slid down her arms until it barely covered her nipples, creating the illusion it would fall at any moment.
Tris’s gaze, fixed squarely on her breasts, certainly avowed he believed it so.
In truth, she held the cloth in place by squeezing her arms tight to her sides so she controlled the moment of revelation. The hot, dark eyes of her betrothed told her time was nigh. She breathed deeply, expanding her chest fully, and let the gown drop.
With a hiss, he sucked in air and tore at his cravat, even as his eyes feasted on her naked body. A flurry of white cascaded to the floor at her feet as he ripped off his clothing and pounced, bearing her onto the mattress. His hungry mouth devoured hers as his hands caressed and kneaded her breasts.
She arched into his hands, his long awaited touch so welcome she almost dissolved into pleasure the moment he claimed her. Lord, but he made her want to be wanton.
“Violet. Oh, God.” His hot breath tickled her ear. “I’m sorry, love. I cannot wait.” He urged his knees between her thighs.
“I don’t want you to.” God knew she’d been wanting him long enough.
With his groan sounding blissfully in her ear, he surged forward, filling all of her.
“Ahh.” The fullness of him was almost too exquisite to bear. She slid her arms around him, urging him to thrust harder, deeper. Let him sear her to the bone so she could dissolve into a puddle of sated desire.
He quickened his pace, grunting, straining faster and faster until she cried out, the sudden blinding pleasure taking her unawares.
Wave after wave washed through her. As from a distance she heard Tris cry her name, then he sagged onto her, his warm weight better than any blanket ever made.
They lay panting, her frantic breaths in counterpoint to his. She could lie entwined like this forever, but a twitch of her hips sent him rolling off her. No, he couldn’t go so soon. A frantic grab and she rolled with him, coming to lie with her head upon his chest. His heart hammered in her ear, slowly quieting to a steady thump, thump. Oh, but she couldn’t wait to make it race again.
“Ahhh,” Tris groaned, flinging one arm over his head. “I’m ruined. I’ll never be good for anything again.”
Pretending to pout, she poked her lip out at him. “And here I thought we might try that once or twice more before the night was through. However, if you don’t feel capable…”
He growled, flipping her easily underneath him once more, pinning her arms to the mattress. “Not capable?” He dragged his tongue down her neck to her breast. “I’ll make you incapable of walking down the aisle at you own wedding, vixen.”
What a delicious thought. She giggled.
“You think I jest?” A wolf-like smile on his lips, teeth gleaming, his hair shaggy around his face made him look deliciously dangerous. Slowly, he drew first one, then the other hand up over her head, making her breasts thrust impudently into the cool air. He lowered his lips to the right one, clasped them around her nipple, and sucked.
An explosion of heat rocked her, streaking down to her core where it became a slickness that made her moan. “O
h, do that some more,” she breathed, pushing herself against his mouth. God, she was ready for him even now.
In response he flicked his tongue rapidly back and forth against the sensitive nub.
“Tris! Oh, please—”
A floorboard outside the door creaked.
Tris bounded up off her and stood before the door before she had raised her head. Dear Lord, he was fast. “What is it?” she whispered.
He shook his head, then pressed his ear once more to the oak panel, and grasped the latch. A minute later he relaxed his watchful pose, then hefted the room’s one armchair and placed it against the door, under the latch.
“What on earth are you doing?” Raised up on her elbows, Violet frowned at him.
“What I should have done before we were consumed with desire.” He shook his head. “I was a fool. Anyone could have burst in on us.”
“Why didn’t you simply lock the door?”
“The latch is broken and the landlord hasn’t had it fixed yet.” Tris bent and fished in the heap of his clothing on the floor. When he straightened, the pistol gleamed in his hand. “That’s why I was sitting up in bed with this, waiting to see if anyone would show up.”
“Other than me?” She smiled, although she kept her gaze on the gun.
“Yes, other than you, sweetheart. You were actually a surprise.” He chuckled.
“Then who were you expecting?” Surely not another woman. Cold now he no longer warmed her, she snaked the covers over her naked body.
“Simon Harper.” Tris padded to the fireplace, probed the embers into a blaze, and tossed on another log. His stern profile, lit by the flickering flames, as much as his words made her heart thud painfully in her chest.
“Goodness.” That was probably the last name she expected to hear. “Why would Mr. Harper follow us here? Your duel is set. What reason would he have for seeking you out?” She sat up, pulling the covers over her shoulders. Even the newly blazing wood couldn’t drive out the cold that touched her heart.
“Because he’s a coward who would rather kill me in cold blood in a surprise attack than face me honorably in a fight he will likely lose.” Another chuckle, deeper this time, more dangerous. He climbed into bed, laid the pistol carefully on the table, and slid down next to her, instantly allaying her fears. Once he’d tucked the covers around her and settled her head again on his shoulder, he asked, “Did you wonder at Downing’s horror at the mention of the Marquess of Dalbury?”
“I scarcely realized I was standing in the library after that attack and the whirl of events. But I remember thinking it odd he seemed frightened of the marquess.” She ran her fingers through the mat of dark hair on his chest, soothed by the touch of him, by the warmth of the crackling fire. Nothing could come between them now.
“Well, Lord Downing would give much to never set eyes on Duncan again. Simon Harper was one of the first men to dishonor Duncan’s sister Juliet with his slanderous lies.”
“He what?” She shot up, hovering over Tris. “And your friend let him live?” If the marquess hadn’t killed Harper, then why had he killed Kit for the same offense? And led to Jamie’s death. The old wound bled afresh. Why of all people had Tris been the one to defend his friend and inadvertently kill Jamie?
“Shhh.” As if he knew her thoughts, Tris wrapped his arms around her and drew her to him. “Had Duncan been allowed to meet Harper, his wife would likely have been a widow long before he injured her. Downing came to Dunham House, Harper at his heels like a whipped puppy. He wanted the duel, was mad to pit himself against the marquess. Downing, however, had found out about Duncan’s reputation with a blade and pleaded with him to spare his heir. Harper had to make a public apology to Duncan and retract his statement about Lady Juliet.” Tris stroked her arm, soothing her prickly mood. When his strokes moved to her breast, tension of another kind began to build.
“Ummm.”
He slid down beneath the covers until only his head poked out. “Let us see if I can do better.” Beginning at the tip of her breast, he kissed the tender flesh, then pulled the nipple into his mouth, laving it with his tongue.
“Ahhh.” Her body flushed, exquisite heat rising all over her.
He stroked the other breast, tweaking the nipple in counterpoint to the ravages his mouth was making on the other.
How had she believed she could ever live without him? He knew her body better than she did, certainly how best to pleasure it.
“Ohhh.” She couldn’t keep silent as she caught fire. Her hips twitched, seeking his other heat.
Swiftly, he lifted himself over her, settling between her thighs, and the ache there became excruciating.
“I need to feel you inside me, Tris.” She kneaded his back, ready to beg him to fill her again.
“Soon, love.” He kissed her lips, then vanished beneath the covers. His kisses continued to roam along her body, over breasts, stomach, the tender flesh above her mound. Heat seared her cheeks and she moaned as he searched through her thicket, his tongue like a hound nosing out game. When he brushed a sensitive spot, she shrieked and shot bolt upright as tongues of fire filled her core.
Tris slid his hand up her body, soothing her, urging her back upon the mattress.
Bit by bit she relaxed back onto the bed, moaning and writhing as he continued to stroke her intimate flesh. Madame Vestry had told her of such a spot, but never had she given it any thought. Until Tris had shown her on Christmas Day. Now, each time he ventured there with his mouth, she thought the pleasure it gave would overwhelm her. Could someone die from such attentions?
He slid a finger into her wet channel, all the while swirling his tongue around the little bead of passion. Oh, what a fire he stoked, stroking in and out, deliberately triggering the coiling sensation in her belly toward that wonderful release. When he slid a second finger in, her toes curled and she clutched the mattress as wave after wave of her shudders shook the bed.
Tris rose above her and in one liquid move filled her again with his long, hard, burning member. He thrust smooth and strong, until he claimed her completely.
Her body, still twitching from its previous release, now surged anew, gripping him time and again with an intensity that took her breath away. She stared into the blue eyes above her as intent on her face as she was on them, and abandoned herself to the bliss that consumed her.
“Violet. Oh, God.” His face contorted, mouth open, head flung back as he erupted within her. He collapsed onto her, sweet heaviness pressing her into the mattress. His breath rasped in her ear, and then he rolled off her and lay panting. “You’ve truly killed me this time.”
Drowsy now, she managed a chuckle. “And you have done for me, my love.”
“Then I’ll see you in heaven.”
“I’m already there.”
* * * *
Furious knocking brought Violet out of a sweet dream of Tristan and her playing on a grassy hill with nine children, all of them theirs. She wiped her hand over her eyes, yawned, and sat up in bed.
“Who’s there?” A shadowy silhouette of Tris stood at the door, swiftly tying the belt of his gray silk banyan. Early rays of sun creeping through the window glinted off the pistol in his hand.
“Oh, m’lord!” Betsy’s terrified wail penetrated the door easily. “She’s gone. Miss Carlton’s been spirited away in the night. I swear I scarce shut my eyes, m’lord, and when I looked again she was nowhere t’ be found.”
“Damn,” Tris swore under his breath.
Violet bit her lip to keep from laughing. It truly wasn’t funny. She didn’t need the maid spreading tales about her and Tris, even though they might be married today. Married. The word echoed in her mind. She drew her legs up and clasped her arms around them, pure joy radiating throughout her. The cold air penetrated her dazed mind and she snagged the cover, drawing it up around her shoulders.
Tris frowned at her. “What must I say?” he whispered to her, uncocking the pistol an
d laying it in the chair that still barricaded the door. Without waiting for an answer, he called through the door, “Are her things missing?”
“No, my lord. All is just as she left it when she went t’ sleep.”
“Help, please,” he hissed.
Stifling a laugh once more, Violet mouthed a word. “Privy?”
“Have you checked the privy, Betsy? She may have gone down there.”
“Oh, no, m’lord. I came straight to ye. I’ll run right down and see. I hope to goodness that’s where she is.” Her footfalls hurried away.
Tris moved the chair, cocked his head toward the door, waited a beat, then cracked it open. “She’s gone.” He shut the door and leaned on it, exhaling. “Quick, before she returns.”
Laughing softly, Violet threw back the covers, wincing as the cold air pricked up gooseflesh all over her body. Every hair must be standing on end. “Where’s my gown?” She slid out of bed and padded toward him.
He retrieved it from the floor and dropped it over her head. The regret in his eyes as it covered her body warmed her better than the fabric. He pulled her close, his kiss urgent and lingering.
“Tris, I must go.” She broke the kiss, little as she wished to.
He sighed and nodded, chaffing her arms as though loathe to lose touch with her.
“Shall I order breakfast laid in the parlor?” They could be together, just not in bed.
“Please.” He cupped her cheek and she gloried in his warmth. “I’ll dress and be there directly.”
She nodded, then flung her arms around him, pulling his head down for one last kiss.
At last he broke them apart, pushing her away and breathing hard. “Go now before I throw you back in that bed.”
A floorboard creaked in the corridor.
“Damn. Go!” He wrenched the door open and Violet sped out of the room, no thought for who might be about. Fortunately, at this early an hour, few stirred.
