Page 19 of Untaming Lady Violet
“Don’t be cruel, darling. Do you worry the little wallflower will spread gossip about us?” she snapped before catching herself. Sweetening her tone, her eyelashes fluttered. “She won’t tell a soul. Will you, Vi—"
“Stop.”The viscount’s voice did not raise, nor did he sound particularly angry, but it had the similar effect of Fiona slamming into a brick wall at high speed.
Violet watched in horrified fascination as the other girl’s mouth clamped shut as directed.
Tristan spoke quietly, but firmly.
“I feel a certain responsibility for the guests in my father’s home, so you can understand why I will not allow anyone the license of referring to Lady Violet as a wallflower. Or employing the use of any other term that could be construed in a derogatory manner. One may not like the results of my displeasure if these instructions are ignored. Is this perfectly clear, Lady Fiona?”
He waited for Fiona’s tight nod and, once satisfied, waved a hand in her direction. Like a sultan dismissing an unfaithful or wearisome subject. “Excellent. See that you do not forget my warning. And please, tell others how disappointed I shall be if I hear of it again. You may go now. Close the door behind you.”
Violet swallowed the lump in her throat as Fiona stomped to the door. Although the girl most certainly thought very hard about it, she refrained from slamming the portal behind her when she exited.
Hearing the soft click of the latch, Violet sagged against the nearest wall, her legs wobbling. Her eyes met Tristan’s, lips twisting in a half-smile of pained regret.
“So much for not feeding the rumor mill, Longleigh. You’ve served up a virtual feast with your actions.”
Tristan poured himself another dram of whiskey. With the languid grace of a jungle cat, all sleekness and dark power, he moved toward her.
One could become entranced watching the viscount’s nonchalant actions. There was little point in running when he’d already pounced and had a victim by the throat. Taking a sip from the glass, he ran a careful, steady finger down the side of Violet’s neck, his mouth curving upward.
Violet blinked. When did he get so close? And why did her breath suddenly feel as though it were being squeezed inside her chest?
“What do you mean, kitten?” Tristan asked softly, stroking the same path down her throat again and again until Violet nearly threw her head back and begged him to dosomething. Anything. She didn’t know precisely what, but she suspected he did. Tristan’s eyes, deep and full of fathomless secrets, were now the same dark shade she’d seen in the forest earlier that afternoon.
“Rumors. You told me you had no wish for them, but now you’ve created a whirlwind. And, I asked you not to call me that.” Her voice trembled. She hated that it trembled. She wanted to be strong. To stand up to him. To withstand him and his brand of seduction. Because for a shy, inexperienced wallflower, the promise of it was a cruel lie.
“Kitten? I can’t seem to help myself.” He drank from the glass again before setting it down so he could mesh his fingers with hers. Very slowly, he drew her closer until their bodies were nearly touching. “You’re soft like a kitten. You scratch and hiss at me, ineffectively of course. I wager if I touched you, very gently, and in the right place, you would purr for me. You would nestle against me, seeking the stroke of my hand. Wouldn’t you?”
Tristan’s words wove a spell of such delight, such darkness and pleasure, that Violet felt lightheaded.
Would she purr? Would she melt for him? Give him anything he asked for? Regardless of the scandal?
His reputation would ruin hers… devastate any chance for a respectable marriage. With Gadley or any other gentleman foolish enough to offer for her. And while Longleigh’s ego would certainly be stoked with the conquest of another woman, Violet knew her heart would fall behind him in tatters.
“Did you love her very much?”
The words tumbled into the air between them.
Tristan’s hands dropped away from her. His mouth tightened into a hard line, but his eyes remained soft.
“I thought at the time I did. I believed she was meant to be mine. It’s complicated.”
Violet pressed on. “Do you still love her?”
“Of course, I do. Just not… not in the manner you think. Grace is like a sister to me. She always was, even when I refused to see it.”
“Even before she married the duke?” Violet tilted her head, trying hard to understand. He was so single-minded in his pursuit of Grace. She could not comprehend the gap between the type of infatuation Tristan exhibited before and the sisterly affection he claimed now.
Tristan raked a hand through his hair. “What Nicholas and Grace have is far beyond anything I ever witnessed. The love they share is…”
Biting his lip, he glanced away, having no words which could adequately describe the relationship between Grace and her new husband.
Violet smiled. “If it resembles anything like that of the Earl and Countess of Ravenswood, or the Earl and Countess of Bentley, then perhaps I do understand. What they have is enviable, isn’t it?”
“Yes. And, one shouldn’t assume something so magical is commonplace. Better to have a more realistic expectation of marriage, I think. After all, not everyone is meant to find their true love.”
Tears shimmered in Violet’s eyes when she thought of her likely union with William Gadley.
