Wicked Deeds of Daniel Mackenzie

by Jennifer Ashley

  “I don’t know how to. I don’t know what to do . . .”

  “No rules for this in your world, are there?” Daniel’s smile was lazy. “I’ll tell you a secret. There is no guidebook. No rules. It’s giving pleasure and getting it in return. Some lovers out there like to dictate every move, but not me. I’m all for enjoyin’ it and ourselves. Nothing we do in this bed tonight is wrong.”

  Violet tried to still the shaking inside her. Her fear was deep, going back to a precise moment that had shaped the direction of her life. She’d changed in one instant from trusting girl to broken woman, no in-between.

  Daniel wanted her to find the in-between, to live every second of the life she’d lost. And still Violet didn’t know what to do.

  “In Marseille, you let me touch you,” she said.

  “Yes.” Daniel’s voice was a pleasing rumble. “I remember.”

  “Let me do that again. I wasn’t afraid then. Or less afraid anyway.”

  Daniel slid his hands to her wrists, taking them out of the sleeves that still confined her. Her nightdress fell gently across her lower back. “I think I’ll be able to stand that, lass.” He made a show of letting go of Violet, stretching his arms, tucking his hands beneath his head. “Touch all you want, wherever you want. Move the quilts and pillows when you need to. Let nothing get in your way.”

  Daniel watched her from half-closed eyes, firelight brushing gold to his unshaved whiskers. Perspiration gleamed on his throat, the hollow of it a shadowed dip between the hard spread of his collarbone.

  Firelight also burnished the wiry curls on Daniel’s chest. His abdomen was flat, speaking of his active life. The indent of his navel was visible above the covers, but the blankets that snaked across his hips cut off her view of anything lower.

  Violet placed both hands on his chest. Daniel wasn’t a statue; he wasn’t a god. He was warm, living flesh, with a beating heart and a slow smile.

  Violet closed her eyes and enjoyed the sensation of his aliveness, his being. That she was allowed to touch this beautiful man made her slightly dizzy.

  She opened her eyes again to find Daniel still watching her, wondering what she would do. The fact that he didn’t know gave Violet confidence. He was expecting nothing. He only waited.

  Violet spread her fingers, the hair on Daniel’s chest wiry but soft. She watched a curl twine around one of her fingertips and smiled.

  “Do you know how beautiful you are when you smile, lass?” Daniel said softly. “It’s like being touched by sunshine.”

  Violet didn’t know how to respond. Daniel’s smile could warm her to her toes, make her day brighter, but she was embarrassed to gush.

  She spread her hands across his chest, finding his flat nipples, which were drawn to points as tight as hers. Not lingering, Violet moved to the hardness of his abdomen and dipped one finger into his navel.

  Daniel laughed. His hands came up, then he stopped himself and forced them back to the pillow. “I said there’d be no rules, but I might have to beg you to not tickle me.”

  “You’re ticklish?” Violet asked in surprise.

  “Exceedingly so. Especially on my belly.”

  “Oh.” Violet lifted her hand away. Then she gave him a mischievous look and danced her fingers across his abdomen.

  Daniel snorted with laughter and caught her wrists. “Little devil.”

  Violet struggled with him, the playfulness relaxing her a bit. He was strong, though, telling her he could do as he pleased with her if he chose.

  But he didn’t choose. Violet easily slid her hands from his grip. “Peace.”

  Daniel waited, not trusting her, then finally he rested his arms back up alongside his pillow. “You’re dangerous, woman.”

  Their tussle had shifted the covers down his legs. Violet stilled as she saw his cock resting against his lower abdomen, hard and waiting for her.

  Violet had touched him before, had felt him come undone under her hand. But Violet had not yet looked at Daniel’s full length, at the firm ridge of it, the sign of what their playfulness was leading to.

  A rush of panic came at her. Violet closed her eyes as she silently beat it back.

  She’d been afraid for so long, and she did not want to let fear ruin this moment. Daniel was giving her a gift—himself—without hurrying her. He was being as patient with her as she’d seen him be with his father’s horses, as he coaxed the most timid to trust his touch.

  Daniel knew how to watch, wait, encourage, and pull the best out of the horse. He could do the same with the children, and even his engines. He was a remarkable man.

  Violet’s panic rose like a wave of blackness, cutting off her breath and her vision. She fought it silently, too afraid even to move.

  Daniel’s touch broke through it. Violet pried open her eyes. Daniel lay without speaking, his fingers brushing her wrist, the softest touch. He knew what she feared, what she fought, and he didn’t grow impatient, or angry. Daniel waited, the small touch on her hand guiding her back down from the dizzy heights of terror.

  Holes of light poked through the dark wave, which started to recede. Violet drew in a cleansing breath, her heart beating too rapidly.

  She realized she still wore her slippers, backless mules that weighed on her feet. She slid off the slippers and let them drop to the floor, then quickly pulled her nightgown all the way off.

  Daniel didn’t stop his gaze roving down her body, though he remained motionless, his hands again resting on either side of his pillow. “I must be the strongest man in the world. Have to be, to lie here while you’re like that.” His gaze flicked down her again. “You are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen, do you know that?”

  Violet didn’t stop to enjoy his praise. Fear stirred inside her again, and she needed to conquer it.

  Daniel was beautiful. And sensual. When he’d made her feel so heavenly in his little apartment in Marseille, he’d instructed her to think sensual thoughts. Violet had brought up the memory of Daniel sharing the cigarette with her in London, and lying with her in the bed in the country inn.

  The picture before her now was even more sensual. Daniel Mackenzie stretched upon the bed, quilts kicked to its foot. His hands were raised, out of the way, while his half-closed eyes showed his need.

  Violet, who thought she’d never desire a man in her life, wanted this one. Not only was Daniel beautiful, but he was caring. He’d proved himself honorable many more times—without trying—than Jacobi ever had. But with Jacobi, Violet had been a child looking for a father, not realizing that adults were fallible and could be cruel and even evil.

  Violet was a woman now, wanting the man who wanted her.

  Daniel did nothing as Violet slowly and carefully climbed over him. She rested her hands on his wrists, as though reassuring herself that by pressing him back into the mattress, he couldn’t grab her, force her, do as he pleased.

  Violet spent a moment looking at him lying under her, then she leaned to him and kissed his lips. Daniel let her keep holding him down, raising his head a little to meet the kiss.

  They played that way for some time, kissing and tasting. When Violet lifted her head, knowing what would come next, edges of the panic threatened to return. “I still don’t know what to do.”

  Daniel gave a little shrug. “There’s not much to it. That hard thing you’re feeling against your thigh goes right inside you. That’s it, really.”

  Violet wet her lips. “I knew that.”

  “Well, then.” Daniel’s smile returned. “We’re a step forward. How about we see what happens?”

  But he didn’t move. Daniel was letting Violet make the decision, letting her guide how far they took this. Daniel obviously wanted her—he was hard and ready, the pulse in his wrists beating swiftly under her clenching fingers.

  Violet drew a long breath. Holding it, she eased herself
down toward the blunt hardness that waited for her. Her breasts touched his chest as she slid back, and new fear touched her heart.

  “It’s all right,” Daniel said. “I’m here with you.”

  Tears welled in Violet’s eyes. Still holding Daniel’s wrists, Violet slid her hips back and froze when his tip touched her opening.

  “Take it slow.” Daniel’s gaze was intense. “I’m not going anywhere.”

  Slow goodness, he’d said. He’d proved to her that women could feel pleasure, that passion wasn’t entirely on the man’s side. She’d been surprised, but he’d been right.

  Violet made herself inch back. Daniel made a faint sound in his throat as she slid a little bit onto him. Then she felt him, penetrating her, entering a place where she’d only ever felt pain.

  Another wave of panic lifted Violet and threatened to cast her into the wall. She’d hurt when she impacted, maybe shatter.

  But no, when he’d put his mouth to her opening, it hadn’t hurt. It had been beautiful. So beautiful that Violet had dissolved into powerful delight.

  Daniel’s voice worked through her terror. “I’ll do this with you, Vi. We’ll do it together.”

  Violet nodded. She could barely see him now. Before Violet could stop herself, she thrust her hips back, moving all the way onto him.

  A long way. She was tight, but slick, and he went deep. A spark as sharp as lightning streaked through Violet, her skin heating as though she’d plunged into fire.

  “Daniel.”

  “I’m here, love.”

  “Don’t let me fall,” she begged.

  “Never. I never would.”

  For some reason Violet knew if she let go of his wrists, she’d fall indeed, down into a black well of nothing. She’d never get free. She needed to hang on to Daniel, to not let him go.

  Daniel gave her a slow smile, his eyes golden embers in the firelight. Violet kissed him, and then she couldn’t stop kissing him. Exciting, fierce kisses, nothing slow about them.

  At the same time, Violet waited for the grating pain, the intense hurt that had robbed her of everything she was. It didn’t come. There was only Daniel inside her, his mouth on hers, his body moving as his hips began to work.

  The sudden friction broke something open inside her. Violet threw back her head, wanting to scream. She bent back down, tears streaming from her eyes, and kissed Daniel. He lifted his hips again, thrusting.

  A little faster, a little harder. Perspiration gleamed on his skin. Violet’s tears kept falling—she couldn’t make them stop.

  This was a new beginning, Violet reborn, phoenix-like, in the fires of passion. The feelings inside her were novel and raw, burning her from the inside out.

  Daniel rose a little on his elbows, continuing his thrusts. Violet couldn’t make herself let go of him, but Daniel didn’t seem to mind. His eyes half closed as he watched her, their gleam of gold like summer sunshine.

  His lips parted as he pushed upward into her, thrusting hard, loving her. It was a moment of terrible beauty, Violet loosening and letting go, fear and ecstasy coalescing.

  She heard herself cry his name. The silent, sleeping house might awake, and Violet didn’t care. She kissed Daniel again, her tears dropping to his lips, then she whispered his name instead.

  Daniel’s eyes opened all the way. “Violet,” he said clearly. “Oh, Christ.”

  He said it like a prayer, and then his eyes lost focus and a groan escaped his lips.

  Daniel at last moved his wrists out of Violet’s grip, proving he could have at any time. He caught her against him, his hands hard on her back, pulling her down to him.

  Not imprisoning her. Loving her.

  The last of Violet’s tears trickled away as the ecstasy Daniel had introduced her to struck. She felt nothing but Daniel inside her, his arms around her, his breath on her face, his lips on hers.

  Madness. Beautiful madness, where nothing mattered, and all was heat and wild freedom. Daniel opened the prison door for her, and Violet ran for the light.

  Daniel caressed Violet’s bare back as she lay limply on top of him, he still inside her.

  His world had just changed. No dream could ever be as good as waking up to see Violet, the most beautiful woman in the world, standing over him, haloed by the firelight. An angel, one who looked down at him with dusky blue eyes and declared she wanted to be his lover.

  Daniel knew what it had cost her to come to him. She’d barely been able to move or to speak, and yet she’d come.

  He ran his hand through the silken weight of her hair. Violet holding him down had seemed to give her some comfort, as though reassuring herself that she could have control.

  Daniel hadn’t minded. Violet pinning him in place while she’d lowered herself onto him had been the most erotic thing he’d ever experienced. Maybe one night he’d suggest she tie him down—Daniel tethered to the headboard, unable to stop Violet doing anything she wanted to him.

  He let out a little groan of pleasure, and Violet raised her head.

  “I thought you’d fallen asleep,” she said.

  “No, just basking.” Daniel threaded his fingers through her hair. “Don’t want to sleep and miss this.”

  “I ought to have known you weren’t asleep. You snore something awful.”

  “Huh. The dogs don’t seem to mind.”

  Violet’s smile was shy. “I don’t mind either.”

  “Then my greatest dream has come true. A lovely woman who wants to share my bed doesn’t care if I snore.”

  “I didn’t say that.” Her laughter shook him.

  Daniel brushed her hair back, studying the dark blue of her eyes as her laughter wound down. Her warm breasts were fine cushions against his chest. “You all right, love?”

  Violet knew what he meant. “I think so.”

  “But you aren’t sure.”

  “Not really. I’m still scared. But better.”

  “Good.” Daniel moved his hand to the back of her neck to pull her to him.

  Violet resisted. “I ought to go.”

  “No, you ought to stay.” His pull turned to a caress. “And we should do that again.”

  “If I stay too long, someone might catch me sneaking back to my room . . .”

  “And they’ll think it about bloody time.” Daniel touched the end of her nose. “My very scandalous family isn’t easily shocked.”

  Violet looked uncertain. Daniel kept caressing, and eventually, she came down to him, her body relaxing into his. “Let’s not go to Paris. I like it better here.”

  “Not go to Paris? Don’t be daft. I need to show off my motorcar and win that race. You know it’s an amazing machine. Thanks to your help.”

  “You know what I mean. You keep telling me I’m strong, Daniel, but I’m not. I’m afraid. I don’t know what seeing Jacobi again will do to me.”

  Daniel ran his hands up her arms. “I know what not seeing him will do to you. You’ll never be shut of him in your mind if you don’t face him again.”

  Plus Daniel wanted to ask Jacobi a few things. He’d pry out of him the name of the red-bearded man and pay said man a visit.

  For that, Daniel would go alone. He wasn’t sure what would happen to Violet if she encountered her actual attacker, plus he didn’t want Violet to see what Daniel would do to him.

  “My reason tells me you are right,” Violet said. The dim light and fear chiseled her face into sharpness. “But I’m having difficulty convincing myself.”

  Daniel traced her cheek. “Vi, I keep telling you that you’re one of the strongest women I know. I’m going to teach you to believe it.” He traced her cheek. “And I’ll teach you to drive the motorcar.”

  Violet’s eyes widened. “Me? Drive your precious motorcar?”

  “Why not? You understand how it works, and you’ve helped me put
most of it together. Think how green with envy the other lads will be, when I sail in with the fastest motor ever made with the most beautiful woman in the world at the tiller.”

  “You’re very convinced no one else has come up with a design like yours.”

  “Very convinced.” Daniel also knew he’d turned Violet’s focus from her fears again. “I’m going to win this year. With you by my side.”

  Her eyes took on a tinge of excitement, she also forcing her thoughts from horrors of the past. “Do you really think we’ll win?”

  “I do.” Daniel slid one hand behind her and tugged her back down to him. “But not, I’m thinking, right this moment.”

  This moment was not for the future, it was for finishing the best night of his life. Later they’d face what they needed to face, do what needed to be done. Now was the time to pull Violet close and continue what they’d begun.

  Violet softened as she came to him, and Daniel proceeded to savor her all over again.

  The house was still dark, the clocks striking five, when Violet crept back to her bedchamber. Daniel had seemed to think it perfectly fine if she were caught in his bed when the servants came in to stir up the fire and open the curtains, but Violet told him firmly that she would go. His kiss good night was long and lingering, but finally, he let her depart.

  Violet had resumed her slippers and lit her candle again, not at all surprised to find Venus still lying outside Daniel’s door. The dog snorted as she came awake, climbed to her feet, and yawned. She readily followed Violet down the short flight of stairs to the main landing and up again to the other wing. The house looked exactly the same as when Violet had moved through it a few hours ago, but Violet had profoundly changed.

  An icy draft blew up the stairs when Violet was halfway up, as though someone had opened the front door below. The wind extinguished her candle and swirled her nightdress around her ankles.

  Violet stopped, freezing in place. Perhaps whoever it was wouldn’t see her and would walk on through the house, leaving Violet alone in the darkness.

  Venus, on the other hand, stared down the stairs and wagged her tail, her body wriggling in joy. A heavy tread sounded on the stairs. Violet didn’t move, but she sensed the person come toward her, closer and closer. Before he reached her, Violet realized with some dismay, that he was Daniel’s uncle, Hart Mackenzie, the Duke of Kilmorgan.