Page 32 of Becoming Lady Dalton
She longed to kiss him. To trust him. Piers was true to his name’s meaning—a rock. One she wanted to lean upon. In truth, Viola desired to do more than lean on him. She longed to run her fingers down the front and pop his shirt studs out one by one. For a fleeting moment, she imagined peeling away his lapels and finding the smooth muscles of his torso. She would open them downward until she located the button of his trousers, which would open to reveal his majestic…
“…Jean-François Champollion has just recently published a paper deciphering the Rosetta Stone, enabling researchers to read the hieroglyphs. Much to Thomas Young’s annoyance.” Piers chuckled.
Viola shook herself to bring her mind back to the present. This was a gift. She wasn’t going to waste it by mulling over what couldn’t be.
“Why annoyance?” Viola asked, returning to Piers’ comment about the recent breakthrough in translating the code. “If we can now interpret the hieroglyphics, isn’t that a breakthrough for all scholars?” She bent over the huge tome to better examine the symbols. They didn’t look at all like letters to her.
“Yes, but both men wanted to be credited with the discovery.”
“What nonsense. Why couldn’t they have worked together and shared the credit?”
“Because scholars are yet men, and men are highly competitive, in addition to being highly collaborative when it suits them,” Piers said.
“I suppose so.” Viola sniffed in derision. The man at the end of the table regarded her with outright scorn.
Unbidden, the thought of her husband ghosted into her mind. Samuel had been competitive to a fault—wascompetitive to a fault. Now that she knew he’d made it as far as Upper Cotwarren, there was a real possibility that Sam yet lived. A shudder ran through her. She’d waited so long for freedom. To discover she was still subject to the whims of her feckless husband was too much to be borne.
“Come, let me show you the rest of the library,” Piers said with a dark glance at the gentleman who was now coughing to signal his disapproval. “We can come back to this another day.”
Piers took her elbow and steered her gently toward the stacks. For the first time, Viola had the sense that her presence was genuinely unwelcome. Because she was a woman? Likely. Well, that crank could go kick rocks, as Matthew might say.
Lengths of mahogany soon shielded them from view. It was only a moment later when Viola realized Piers had engineered this entire, wonderful afternoon to get her alone. Though she ought to find it intrusive, she found his efforts flattering instead, if a bit high-handed.
Midway down an empty row, Piers pinned her against books and wood.
To stave off the kiss she wanted, but shouldn’t have, Viola clutched the wood behind her back. She bit her lower lip as desire cracked through her like a whip.
No.He’s not for you.
“Why don’t you and Lady Margaret suit?” she asked.
Piers wrenched his gaze away from her mouth. “She never laughs. You, however, laugh all the time. As though life is one great joke, and you’re in on the fun. I want to be in on the joke, with you.”
“Going from poverty to privilege in the span of a few months makes one appreciate the finer things in life,” she agreed breathlessly. “Besides. Who says I can give you heirs?”
More to the point, Viola didn’t want another child. Not with Piers. Not with anyone, though she didn’t quite dare to say it out loud. The loss of her firstborn had scarred her, and there were no gloves long enough to cover the damage. On the advice of her neighbor, Viola had obtained a sponge which she’d used to prevent getting with child on the few occasions her husband had come to her bed after Matthew’s arrival. Then, he’d been imprisoned, and there had been no further effort to make love. Physically, there was no barrier to having children. But in her heart, Viola couldn’t give Piers what he most needed.
“You have Matthew,” he pointed out. “Besides, marrying for heirs doesn’t always work as planned. I tried that once, remember? I have Emily, and I wouldn’t change her for the world, but I have an obligation to produce an heir.”
Regret laced his voice. Viola didn’t doubt that if leaving the viscountcy to Emily was an option, he’d have taken it in a heartbeat. It changed nothing about her desires, either for his touch or to avoid having children. Piers raised his hand to cup her jaw. Viola tilted her head. He stroked his thumb over her bottom lip, and her legs nearly collapsed beneath her. A streak of pleasure raced through her.
“Stop trying to push me into another woman’s arms and let me court you properly, Viola.”
Her name spoken in the smooth rumble of his voice shattered Viola’s resistance. Piers’ gaze was a smoldering fire as he leaned into her and took her mouth. She was a wanton at heart, a woman who adored luxury. She’d been starved of life’s best pleasures—not fine cloth and food, or beautiful music and books, but love and touch—and now she was greedy for his. Viola couldn’t stop her hand from curling into his lapel to pull him closer. Her lips parted, and Piers teased them skillfully. She’d never been kissed like this before. Sensual. Slow.
In a library.
“Excuse me, madam, I found your—” a man’s voice interrupted, then cut short. “Gloves,” he finished a beat later.
Viola whirled away from Piers. What had she done? She’d made vows. They’d been easy to make at fifteen, when she hadn’t yet known what lust was. They’d been easy to keep in the country, where Samuel Cartwright was regarded as an attractive man. But here, with Piers … she’d allowed temptation to get the better of her, and this time she had no excuse. Sam was alive somewhere, and whether she liked it or not, he was still her husband.
“The woman will have to go, Lord Dalton,” the stiff-backed man in a grey wool jacket and black trousers said. “Immediately. Her presence disturbs the other guests.”
Though mortification made her insides writhe at having been caught in the act of kissing in the book stacks, Viola detected no such emotion in Piers. He opened his mouth as if to argue. She shot him a quelling glance. He nodded tersely.
“We were just leaving.”
With every step toward their rendezvous point with Miss Townsend, Viola’s heart sank. If she couldn’t resist him, she must avoid him—at least, until the matter of her husband was resolved. Perhaps, after then. Piers needed an heir, and that was one thing Viola could never give him.
