Page 49 of A Wicked Duke's Redemption
Violet raised her head. “No,” she said thickly.
Fabric rustled as Lady Priscilla joined Violet on the settee. “What happened?” Lady Priscilla asked gently. “Did someone say something to upset you?”
Violet’s breath shuddered. “I am sorry. I suppose you think me ridiculous.”
“Not at all. It is difficult to see how they all treat Leo,” Lady Priscilla said soothingly. “They do not know him as we do, and they have no concern for how their cruel words and looks might harm anyone. It makes one long for the countryside, where we can be at peace in our manors, at least.”
Sometimes it did. The door creaked, and Violet turned her head. Leo stood in the doorway. “Violet,” he said, taking a step towards her.
Violet rubbed her eyes and laughed shakily. “I did not wish for you to see me so distressed.”
Lady Priscilla squeezed Violet’s hand. “I will leave you with Leo.”
The lady left, and Leo seated himself beside Violet, who forced a smile. “I did not mean to take you away from the ball. I only needed a moment. Lady Malloy said something cruel—well, notcruelprecisely—but that was the intention. Her feelings were unkind.”
Leo was silent for a long time. Then he sighed softly. “I wish I could tell you that it will become easier, but I suspect it will not. We may have to endure their stares and gossip for the rest of our lives.”
“It is unfair.”
“I know,” Leo replied. “But do not be distraught that such unkindness upset you. Of all the women I have met, I have scarcely met one with a heart as pure as yours.”
“I would rather not worry you.”
“I am your husband. I would be distraught if you did not feel as if you could share your burdens with me.”
Violet’s tears had run dry. She nodded and took a steadying breath of air. Although she could not say that she enjoyed being found in such a vulnerable state, she nonetheless drew comfort from his words. He took her hand in his and ran his thumb along her knuckles. She felt the warmth and steadiness of his hands through the silken material of her gloves.
“You are too kind to me,” she said.
“Nonsense.”
He placed his lips against her knuckles, and Violet drew in a sharp gasp of air. Leo cast her a questioning look. “Are you well?”
“Yes, I just—I was thinking that I want you.”
The words emerged before she could think through their implications. They hung in the air, filled with unspoken questions and promises. Leo smiled. “Now?” he asked.
Violet blinked at him. He moved closer to her and pressed his lips against her neck, his breath warm against her neck. “I do not think anyone else will come this way.”
The absence of unwelcome company could not be guaranteed, however, and the thought that they might be caught doing something scandalous sent a fissure of pleasure through Violet. She clenched her legs together as Leo’s hands rested on her hips. “What do you think?”
It would be like Lancelot and Guinevere, sneaking about the castle and having an affair. It would be the stuff that romances were made of. “Yes,” Violet whispered.
She wrapped her arms around his neck, and he took handfuls of her skirt, hitching them up past her thighs. Violet lifted her hips so he could pull them up past her waist. His right hand found her thighs and then the place between them. Leo pressed his finger hard against her core, and Violet arched her back, rubbing against him. His clever fingers soon caused a tightness in her belly and a dampness between her thighs. Her muscles quivered, and Leo drew back.
A low whine tore from her throat. She felt raw and exposed, so near that pleasant explosion that she remembered. Leo quickly unfastened his trousers, and his manhood sprang forth. He straddled her waist, nearly too large for the narrow space of the settee. Leo lowered his head against and placed a long, lingering kiss on her lips.
He seemed to be everywhere, encompassing all her senses. At once, he plunged himself inside her, and Violet moaned, the sound muffled against his mouth. She dug her hands into his hair as her muscles clenched and unclenched. Desire grew inside her until she felt as if she were about to burst into flames. Leo drew his mouth away, leaving her gasping for air.
Violet came, clenching her jaw to muffle a satisfied yell. Seconds later, Leo did, too. He fell against her, sweat-damp and boneless. Violet petted his hair as she fought to regain her breath. Her face was hot, and she thought distantly, humorously, that she must be quite a sight.
“I do not think we should return to the ball for a few more moments,” Violet said.
Leo laughed.
***
That night, Violet lay in bed, soothed by the sound of Leo breathing beside her. Since arriving in London, they had shared their bed, and Violet found herself surprised by how natural it seemed, how perfect. She turned onto her side and watched as Leo slept. He looked younger and unburdened when he slept, especially with the light of the full moon nestled in his blond hair, casting it in a gentle light.
