Page 5 of Untaming Lady Violet
And now…
Oh, blast it all … my shoe actually struck him.
The viscount stood directly below the branch she stood balanced upon. Hands planted square on his hips, the errant shoe clenched in one large fist so it resembled a balled-up bit of fabric, he glared at her. Annoyance flowed off him in waves. Violet had a quick image of him stalking about as though he were a pirate on a marauding ship. Only a cutlass dangling from his side and a hat sporting an oversized, feather plume atop his head was required to complete the image in her mind
“I’m neither trespasser—” Violet’s tongue tangled, impeding her speech in the worst way, “—nor poacher.”
The sentence ended in a squeak.
Valiantly attempting bravery, she cleared her throat. Hopefully, she wouldn’t sound too bloody terrified. “Lord Longleigh, it’s-it’s only me. Violet Everstone. Celia’s friend. Remember?”
Tristan’s stare was unblinking.
Mortified by his uncharacteristic silence, Violet cringed. She’d been Celia Buchanan’s closest friend for years, yet the lady’s brother scowled as if he really had stumbled across a trespassing stranger.
“Violet Everstone?” A muscle ticked in his tight jaw. “What the fu—” The words died in an abruptly strangled cough before he spoke again. “What in God’s name are you doing up there?”
Edging into view so the viscount could see it was truly her, Violet’s fingers dug into the tree bark. Picking at the coarse surface was ruining the perfect ovals of her fingernails. Mother would be displeased, as would Lord Gadley. He commented once how lovely her hands were, then seemed genuinely surprised he might actually like something about her.
The thought of his disappointment, along with her mother’s, proved oddly invigorating. A small tingle of rebellion reminding her that she did not desire Gadley’s approval. Not one bit.
However, if Tristan Buchanan decided he wanted them, Violet would climb to the moon and gather the stars.
“Must I ask my question again?” he barked.
Violet was startled so badly she was forced to clutch the tree if she had any hope of remaining in it.
“I can hear you perfectly well, my lord. There’s no reason to shout as though you were a street hawker,” she reprimanded in exasperation.
“Street hawker ….” Tristan’s mutter was incredulous before his tone became absolutely icy. “What, if you will permit my inquiring, are you doing up in a tree on my family’s property?”
“I’ve good reason for my actions, my lord.”
“I’m breathless with anticipation to hear it, Lady Violet.”
She frowned down at him. “I would not be up here without purpose.”
“And this required risking life and limb so you could hide like a frightened kitten?” His voice was deceptively flat, but a tiny spark of interest appeared in the velvety brown eyes trained so intently upon her.
Violet imagined flinging herself from the tree and happily drowning in the depths of his gaze.
Then those eyes sharpened in a predatory manner. Indeed, his entire body went on alert. As if searching for hidden dangers, his gaze swept the clearing’s perimeter. “Are you up there of your own accord?”
Violet nodded then added, “Yes,” when it seemed he expected a verbal response.
“Were you frightened into doing so? By man or beast?”
Puzzled, she shook her head. “No.”
Tristan relaxed. Tipping his head back, he pinned her with yet another hard glare. “Then what is the reason for your current location?”
The viscount shifted his arms, crossing them over that impossibly wide chest. The movement stretched the black superfine cloth of the coat across his shoulders. From her vantage point, Violet could see his throat muscles contract when he swallowed.
She swallowed, too. Why did her face suddenly feel so dreadfully hot, like she suffered from fever?
Pressing a palm against one cheek, she tested her temperature in distracted curiosity. Then, reminded of her precarious position, she clutched the tree trunk again.
“I-I, uh, you see, it was a baby robin. The poor thing fell from the nest.” Violet nodded toward the bundle of twigs which was barely visible through the abundance of green leaves. “The mother was quite frantic, so I decided there was no harm returning —"
