A Marquess for Christmas (19 page)

When
the dark thoughts teased the edges of his mind, he focused on Violet’s face and
ignored them. Tomorrow would take care of tomorrow. For today, he had everything
he wanted.

* * * *

The
next day, Kit and Violet sat together at the large polished dining table while
Mrs. Norris hummed and carried over a plate of pound cake. His mouth watered as
he eyed the dessert. She cut slices for them and Kit couldn’t help but moan
when he took a bite.

“Glad
you like it, sir.” Mrs. Norris puffed out her chest and smiled.

“I
love it.”

“Let
me have a bite,” Violet said.

He
took another slice of cake and held it out for her to take a bite. The dessert
tasted like baked gold sprinkled with the sweetest honey. He’d never tasted
anything so delicious in his life, except perhaps for Violet.

She
opened her mouth to accept the morsel of food, but he smeared it into her face.
When her tongue came out to lick the moist cake from her lips, he kissed her.
It was a double taste of heaven.

Just
like the last week and a half. They’d spent nearly every minute together. He
sat with her when she went over her accounts. He went with her to the market to
buy a new hog and two cows. In the evenings, they played chess, piquet or
hazard after dinner. Sometimes they sat at the pianoforte and sang a ballad.

Since
it was a bit too cold to go back outside and play with their snowman today,
Violet coerced Kit into looking over fashion plates. She wanted a suit made for
him in time for Christmas, which was in a fortnight. She was convinced he
should wear a cherry red jacket.

As
Violet wiped her lips with a napkin, he resumed the argument. They sat at the
mahogany dining table, with silks, woolens, linens, and cottons of various
colors splayed before them.

“I
have no intention of dressing up as a tomato for Yuletide.”

“You
are hardly short and round, so I doubt anyone should mistake you for a tomato,
sir.”

“There
is nothing wrong with a black jacket and trousers and a cream waistcoat.”

“What
is to distinguish that from any other occasion?” She took a sip from her
teacup.

“Well,
then a navy jacket with brass buttons.”

She
rolled her eyes. “You are hopeless.”

“You
are almost—” He stopped himself from completing the sentence. He was
going to say that she was almost as stubborn as his sister, Bella. But he did
not want the reminder of his past to spoil their afternoon.

“I
am what?”

“You
are almost as stubborn as I am.”

“Perhaps
we’ll soon test that theory,” she said and the low tone of her voice made him
perk up.

When
he glanced at her, her head was down to examine a light fabric with green
stripes. He could not see her eyes.

 
Nine days had passed, but she still
hadn’t tied him down and ravished him. He’d brought it up that night, but she
reminded him that she would claim her prize at her own discretion and he would
have to wait.

He
had a feeling she wanted to keep him on edge, wondering where and when she
would force him to yield. It was driving him crazy.

“Is
that a promise, angel?”

“Wait
and see.” She could have been speaking about whether to have beef or mutton for
dinner from her lack of inflection.

“You
are merciless.”

Her
head snapped up and she stared at him. “Why is that?”

“I
think you delight in torturing me. You have the advantage, yet you do not use
it.”

She
handed him a goldenrod-colored velvet. “What about the yellow? And perhaps you
can trim the lapel with this one?” She handed him a black swatch.

“Better.”

“We
should make a few different suits.”

“Please
tell me you do not intend to dress me up for each of the twelve days of
Christmas.” He rolled his eyes. “I will not do it.”

“No,
do not be silly. But at least four. You’ll need one for Christmas and another
for Epiphany and at least one more in case we attend any festivities in the
village. And of course, you’ll need your black jacket and trousers for standard
evening attire.”

He
did not tell her that he would not need three outfits as it was unlikely he
would be here after Christmas. She wanted to plan for the holidays and he
wanted to spend his time with her. So he would let her play dress-up and plan a
trousseau if it made her happy.

“You
have no intention of telling me when you will make good on your promise.” He
handed her a swatch of a wine-colored wool. “That is cruel.”

“Hmmm.
I like this.” She put it in the basket with the fabrics they intended to use.

“Violet.”

“I
am no more cruel than you, Kit.” She dropped her voice to a whisper. “You who
like to bend me over the bed and bind my hands with curtain cords.”

“But
I generally give you warning before I do so.”

“You
have already had your warning.”

He’d
never thought he would meet his match. Violet truly was as stubborn as he,
though he never felt chafed with her the way he did with Isabella.

“Now
you should let me plan a gown for you,” he said.

“Oh,
really?” She leaned her face on her left elbow and looked over at him. “What do
you have in mind?”

“Let
me see the plates.”

She
handed him the fashion drawings and he looked for the elements he wanted. Sheer
fabrics. A neckline so low that it could scarcely be worn in public. He picked
a black sheer Swiss fabric that had little raised dots and black lace. Then he
pulled out a piece of paper and drew an impromptu sketch based on two of the
fashion plates.
 
He envisioned a
sheer overlay of the Swiss over a black muslin with lace trim under the bust
and lace ruffles that peeked out underneath the hem like a petticoat.

“I
am not wearing black at Christmas. And I could not walk outside in
that
!”

He
flashed her a wolfish grin. “Who said that you would ever step outside in it?”

She
blushed redder than he’d ever seen her.

“No
petticoat required.”

“You
are a beast!”

“Would
you have me any other way?” She picked up a fan from the table and whacked him
on the shoulder. “I am sorry, my lady, but that will only spur my bullish
nature.”

She
gripped his chin and held his face close to hers. “Perhaps you need a firmer
hand?”

“Aye.”

“I
think that can be arranged.” Her voice skimmed over his skin like silk.

“You
are serious?”

“Completely.”

Finally.
As much as he loved pushing her
down to the bed, loved tying her hands with whatever fabric or rope he had on
hand, he was looking forward to having Violet inflict her will upon him.

He
pushed back the chair and pulled the swatch from her fingers and set it in the
basket.

Taking
her hand in his, he led her from the room. They passed Sally and Adam and then
Avery who was in deep conversation with Mrs. Norris. He ignored their stares.
It was not as if everyone did not know about Violet’s nightly visits to his
chamber.

He
would have no problem kissing her in full view of every member of the house if
she would let him. But he respected her enough to obey her wishes for
discretion in front of her servants.

“Slow
down,” she said. Her breaths were fast and uneven from racing up the stairs.

“You
have made me wait for nine days, Violet. Nine days. It is time to pay up.”

She
chuckled. “I thought it was
you
who
owed me.”

“Then
take your payment out on me, angel.” He started to shrug out of his jacket and
they hadn’t even made it to the bedroom.

“You
would strip down in the hallway?”

“I
am as good as naked.” Which was true. He’d never remove his jacket in polite
company unless engaged in sport.

“Then
follow me,” she said, loosening his cravat and pulling him along to follow her.
They passed his room and ventured further into the hall. He knew her bedroom
was the third door from the other end of the hall, but he’d never seen it.
They’d spent their nights in his bed.

When
she opened the door, he could definitely tell this was the master suite. Her
room was nearly twice the size of his and his room was a good size. He could
see her secretary, which was a red wood and had little brass handles. The desk
was down. Her papers were organized and her correspondence sat in a neat pile
next to an ink bottle and quill.

Her
bed was massive. About the same size as his bed at his favorite manor house in
the Hebrides. Every room in the castle there was fit for a king. It was too
cold to spend the long winters there, so he divided his time between his other
estates or visiting relatives.

“Your
bed is nearly the size of my room,” he said. “Why did we not come here before?”

“You
forget that big scar on your head.” She traced over the long line on his crown
and the smaller scar on the side of his forehead. “You needed to rest in your
own bed as much as possible.”

That
surely wasn’t the reason because they did not spend that much time
resting
in his bed. As far as he was
concerned, his injuries were healed. He had the occasional headaches and
sometimes he forgot little things, but he was far from being an invalid.

“You
wanted a safe haven for yourself. A place that belonged only to you,” he said.
The more he thought about it, the more it made sense. They both knew his time
at
Welbury
Park was limited. If she spent their time
together in
his
bed, it would be
easier to close the door once he left. There would be no memories in her safe
space, in her most private haven.

“Yes.”
She nodded, but did not look at him. Her voice wavered and he was afraid to
look at her face and see a tear there.

But
when she turned toward him a moment later, there was no sign of crying. Perhaps
he’d been mistaken.

“I
am here under your command, madam.” He played with her fingers, threading hers
into his. “Do with me as you will.”

“Unbutton
your waistcoat and shirt.” She moistened her lips. “And do not forget your
trousers.”

He
loosened his cravat and quickly freed open his dress shirt. Violet laid down on
her bed, kicking off her slippers, and watched him.

One
by one he popped the buttons loose, taking his time. He pulled off his shirt
and under shirt.

Violet
nodded approvingly. “Very nice.” When he started to pull off his trousers, she
stopped him. “Leave those on.” He wasn’t wearing drawers. Though the winter
chill remained, he was too hot and eager for Violet to notice most of the time.
And he lived for any opportunity for a private interlude with her.

Though
most days she waited until the sky was indigo and the candles were out before
she’d let him do more than touch her hand or sneak a kiss.

“Come
here.”

As
he walked, he watched the rise and fall of her breasts and the way her necklace
dipped down into the valley between them.

“Sit
at the edge of the bed.”

The
bed moved as she got up, but he did not turn around to check what she was
about. He would find out soon enough.

“Hold
out your arms.”

She
took his long cravat and tied a knot on one end of the bed post the other end
of the cravat was tied to his wrist. His elbows were able to bend some, so she
hadn’t stretched him taut.

After
she’d tied the other wrist, she kissed his earlobe and slipped a blindfold over
him.

The
pads of her fingers stroked his neck, sending tingles down his back. He’d never
thought of his neck as sensitive. It had to be her.

Her
cool hands slid down his back then back up again and around his shoulders. When
she touched his neck again, it was to trace a single finger down the middle. He
shuddered.

As
her hands traveled down his shoulders, Kit relaxed his palms, which had gripped
the white cloth of his bonds. She stroked his muscles and he exhaled deeply.

The
next thing he knew, her teeth had sunk into the curve where his neck and
shoulder met. He jerked, but was soon soothed by her tongue. She nipped his
shoulder. “So firm.” Light kisses trailed down his bicep and back up to his
shoulder. “I love that strength.”

Her
nails danced along his back, pitter-pattering over his skin. When the tips of
her fingers glided slowly down his back, he sighed. Each touch had a different
texture, a different sensation.

What
would she do next?

The
sound of his own breathing filled his ears. He listened to the rhythm as he
anticipated her next move. Her tongue licked the curve on the other side of his
neck and her fingers combed through his hair, starting at the neck and working
their way up.

He
could smell the sweet scent of cake and wondered if he would taste it on her
lips when she kissed him.

A
sharp sting surprised him. Her teeth sunk into his neck. She kissed the bite
and rubbed it.

Soft
locks of hair skimmed his back, contrasting with the hot sensation of her lips
on his skin. She kissed and nipped her way over his shoulder blade and down. At
the press of her lips to his spine, he arched his back.

Before
he could get used to that sensation, her nails scored his hips and buttocks as
she went back to biting his neck and shoulders. His cock lengthened and the tip
begged to be touched. If only his hands were free.

Violet
continued to run her nails over his skin. She scored her way up his back, over
his shoulders and biceps, down his neck, and back to his scalp. She bit his
right earlobe, then her hands slid down his abdomen.

“
Ohh
,” he groaned when one hand gripped his shaft. She
stroked up and down twice then yanked his head back with her other hand. Her
grip was tight and he could feel the cords in his neck stretched taut. Was this
what it felt like when he pulled on her dark locks?