Page 39 of Untaming Lady Violet
“Christ,” he muttered as though greatly pained. “You are exactly as I imagined. Soft as velvet. Warm. And sweet. So damned sweet.”
Euphoria swept through Violet; a wave of pleasure so intense she thought she might faint. His fingers touched her so gently and yet so precisely. The expertise disturbed her for a momentary flash of clarity then was blessedly gone.
She would mindlessly enjoy this. Without thought or guilt. Giving herself up to the sensations was a necessary indulgence. She prayed he would not stop what he was doing. The careful nature of his caresses was intoxicating, and he handled her as if she were a rare, fragile piece of artwork.
Somewhere in the distance, perhaps thousands of miles away, Violet heard a rousing chorus of dogs barking. They did not intrude on her world, however. No, in this little corner of Darby Meadows, the outside world was kept at bay.
It was a lie she told herself, even when Tristan’s hand faltered, then the exquisite exploration he had embarked upon was easing away.
“No…” The murmur of protest passed her lips, quickly silenced by a brush of Tristan’s mouth.
“Do not fret…” he soothed, but there was reluctance in his tone; a resignation tempered by the reality of having no other choice but to draw back. His hand left her, slipping out from beneath her skirts, fingertips trailing the skin of her thigh as though gathering a memory he could savor in private at a later time.
The barking dogs sounded closer. Louder. From the windowsill, Carrot hissed then meowed in agitation. A moment later, the kitten jumped down from the ledge, knocking over one of the smaller paintings in the process.
The clatter snapped Violet to her senses. She recognized the estate’s hounds as the source of the barking. The small pack of dogs usually roamed the grounds, alerting footmen and servants of approaching guests.
Brow furrowed, Tristan helped Violet off the table and then ducked beneath it to retrieve the kitten. Handing the end of Carrot’s leash to her, he then peered out the window to survey the sprawling courtyard below.
“We have a newly arrived guest.” His tone carried a strangled quality when he glanced back at Violet. She stared at him, swaying unsteadily as the memory of his hand sweeping over her flesh seared her.
“Oh?” she managed to say, even as her knees threatened to give way.Guests? What do I care? Tristan touched me, and it’s the most marvelous thing I’ve ever experienced.
“Lord Gadley has arrived.” Tristan’s features were schooled into a mask of indifference. “And no one could be more disappointed than I am.”
Chapter 16
“Your parents shall arrive within the week, Lady Violet.” William frowned at the sight of an orangish tuft of fur on Violet’s skirts. Seeing where his eyes had fallen, she flushed and immediately plucked it away. Then, unsure what to do with the offending stuff, she simply closed her palm around it, letting her arm hang by her side.
“Yes, of course,” Violet murmured. She obediently remained at her “maybe” fiancé’s side.
Tristan clasped his hands behind his back, fighting the urge to rip Violet away from Lord Gadley and the hold he had of her elbow. Christ, the man was more odious than he remembered.
“What news of London, Gadley?” Henry Bowman asked, jovially. “Boodles must-have new play on the books. Details, my dear man. We need details.”
“Not a suitable subject with ladies present, Lord Bowman,” Lord Darby admonished, approaching the group where they stood in the grand entry hall.
“My apologies, ladies. Don’t know what I was thinking, other than curiosity got the best of me. I do enjoy a good wager.” Henry’s apology was both contrite and yet unabashed. He winked at Violet, and Tristan grit his teeth.
Must he watch every eligible bachelor visiting Darby Woods flirt with his little wallflower?
“There’s a time and place for such things,” the earl responded, leaning heavily on his cane.
Tristan thought his father appeared paler than when he’d last seen him at supper the night before. His mother cast Tristan a concerned glance before greeting their newest guest.
“Welcome, Lord Gadley. If your valet will supervise the servants on carrying the baggage to your room, perhaps you would appreciate a brandy or other refreshments after your long journey from London.” Lady Darby gestured toward Tristan. “Longleigh can accompany you to the main salon, if you like.”
William released Violet’s elbow so he could withdraw a hinged snuff box from a hidden pocket on the inside of his coat. Popping the ornately enameled case open, he took two pinches of tobacco and leisurely inhaled them before answering his host. Violet, meanwhile, gazed at him with barely concealed distaste.
“That would be delightful, Lady Darby. It’s said your salon is one of the finest in all of England.” William turned to Tristan with a smug grin. “Longleigh has never extended an invite, but I’m pleased to be here regardless. If you’ll lead the way, Longleigh.” He glanced at Violet. “We must have a private conversation, my dear. Later, of course, once I’ve settled in.”
Tristan’s eyes narrowed. God’s blood, the man was truly loathsome.
Catching Violet’s gaze, Tristan gave her a small smile. Unable to help himself, he rubbed his fingers together. A trace residue of her silky arousal still lingered there.
It was hedonistic, of course, but he reveled in that fact. He’d give his fortune to be in his studio at that precise moment with Violet still at his mercy. He would make her shatter into a thousand pieces if granted a second opportunity.
His thoughts must have shown plainly, for Violet immediately blushed bright pink and tore her gaze away from his.
