Page 38 of A Wicked Duke's Redemption
The maid returned with tea for Lady Priscilla, and seeing the lady settle into her chair with it, Leo smiled. “I should be going,” he said.
“Going?” Lady Priscilla asked.
Leo nodded reluctantly. “I remembered that I need to have a word with Nathanial.”
That was true, but he also thought that it might be best for him to leave Violet and Lady Priscilla in one another’s company. It would be good for the two of them to speak in private. They seemed as though they would be fast friends.
“How unfortunate,” Lady Priscilla said, lifting her teacup to her lips. “I will be certain to keep Her Grace company, though.”
“I am glad,” Leo said, offering them both an acknowledging nod. “Enjoy your tea.”
“Thank you, Your Grace,” Violet said.
Leo smiled. He felt himself soften a little. Seeing the two of them together reminded him of the days when Lydia and Lady Priscilla had sat together, deep in conversations that were punctuated by laughter and smiles. Perhaps some small semblance of those days—so full of joy and light—had finally returned to Groveswood.
Chapter 18
Lady Priscilla had stayed for dinner, and afterwards, she and Violet retreated to the parlor to talk. They conversed late into the night until Lady Priscilla was forced to stifle a yawn and sheepishly concede that she was exhausted from travel and needed to return to her own estate. The lady left with promises to return soon, and Violet returned to her room in high spirits.
For the first time since marrying the Duke of Farnham, Violet began to feel as if she might have a happy life as a duchess after all. Her husband seemed to like her well enough, and she had a friend. Violet sat before her mirror, looking at herself. Emma had already prepared Violet for bed, removing her gown and carefully brushing Violet’s red hair. Then, Emma had left to fetch some rose oil, which she would need in the morning.
Violet started at the knock at her door. She rose and padded to the door to her bedchamber. Violet opened the door and stared with wide eyes at the man in the doorway. “Your Grace.”
Would this be the night when they consummated the marriage? Violet’s heart pounded so loudly and fervently against her ribs that the echo of it reverberated inside her own skull.
She had wondered if this day would ever come, and at once, her mind was aflush with stories of lovers—Lancelot and Guinevere, Tristain and Isolde, and even Morgan le Fay and Accolon. Violet imagined herself laying on her fine bedclothes, trembling as His Grace slowly undressed.
The Duke of Farnham chuckled. “You do not need to call me that. You may call me Leo if it pleases you.”
“It would please me,” Violet admitted.
“I am glad.”
His Grace—no, Leo—clasped his hands behind his back and looked askance. The room was mostly dark, lit only by a couple of flickering candles. Their leaping shadows dancing around the walls of the room reminded her of that night at the Harvest Dance with her mysterious dance partner. Violet swallowed hard. She suspected that if she closed her eyes, she would see the man’s face before her.
At some point, Leo’s eyes met hers, and they stared at one another. The air seemed heavy and strange, filled with so many unspoken things that it took Violet’s breath away. She opened her mouth to speak, but no words emerged.
Surely, her mind was simply tired and longed for sleep, but a dull ache grew between her thighs. Her lips tingled, and a lump rose in her throat. Violet’s toes curled in anticipation, and she suddenly wanted nothing more than to be kissed.
Leo took a step nearer to her. “I came to wish you a good night and to thank you for the pie. It was delicious and a very thoughtful gesture.”
He did not seem to be looking at her face, but somewhere lower. Was it her mouth? Or did she only imagine that he looked there? Violet swallowed hard. Very slowly, leaving her ages to move or turn away, Leo lifted her chin and tilted his hand. Violet parted her lips slightly and drew a breath, which made her entire body tremble. He pressed his lips against hers, gently at first.
Violet let him and pressed her mouth against his, and it was as if some powerful sensation overcame Leo without warning. He placed a hand between her shoulders and drew her flush against him without ever once drawing his lips from hers.
Violet gasped against his mouth and instinctively wrapped her arms around his neck. Leo kissed her more deeply, and Violet’s head spun. He smelled of cinnamon and orange blossoms, and something hard pressed against her stomach. It took her just a moment to realize that must surely be his manhood. The ache between her legs grew stronger, and she moaned into his mouth. “Leo…”
She clawed at his shoulders, desperately clinging to him. While he kept one hand between her shoulder blades, Leo’s other hand bunched in the fabric of her nightgown, drawing the fine material up over her knees. He exposed a thigh, and Violet gasped as his warm fingertips caressed her bare leg.
The air felt cool against her exposed skin, and yet her body was so pleasantly hot, consumed by her desire to kiss him more, to touch him more, to have him take her to bed and show her all the joys of the marriage bed.
Violet’s hips jolted without warning against him, and Leo groaned. The sound sent shivers down Violet’s spine.Shehad that effect on him—the very same one which he had on her. Then he was gone.
It took Violet a long moment to realize that he had stepped back. He had removed his lips from hers and dropped his hands. Violet stared at him with utter bewilderment. She felt strange and hot, her heaving chest straining against her nightgown.
“I must leave,” he said, his voice low and ragged.
He turned abruptly and left, closing the door behind him. Violet pressed her legs together, trying to dull the ache between her thighs. Her breath came in uneven pants for air, and she shakily raised her hands to her lips and thigh, trying to find the same sensation which he had brought her. She felt strangely uneven and frustrated, as if she had been on the verge of something new and wonderful.
