The Viscount Always Knocks Twice (Heart of Enquiry Book 4) (20 page)

He
had
to have a taste.

“Carlisle, what are you… you can’t…” Her fingers clenched his hair. “
Gadzooks
…”

He would have chuckled if his mouth hadn’t been more pleasantly engaged. Humor and passion—he’d never known the two could go hand in hand. Yet they did with Violet. His amusement faded into the roar of lust: the taste of her was
indescribable
. Ambrosia. One taste and he knew he would never get enough.

Parting her with his thumbs, he took his time feasting on her plump and luscious slit. His tongue swiped upward, finding the little bud beneath the shy hood. When he suckled, her hips suddenly bucked, a dangerously loud squeal escaping her as she came.

Surging upward, he sealed his mouth over hers. He plunged two fingers inside her convulsing passage, rocking his thumb over her nubbin to prolong her climax. As her sheath continued to ripple around his fingers, his bollocks pulsed in tortured synchrony, his cock burgeoned past the point of pain.

“Carlisle,” she whispered against his lips.

“Yes, love?”

“Do you want, um…”—he jolted, barely stifling his groan when her fingers fluttered over the throbbing ridge in his pants—“help with that?”

Be a gentleman. Don’t make her do anything she might regret later.

Running his knuckles over her cheek, he tried to discern her expression in the dimness. How far ought he allow things to go? With the two misses he’d courted before, he’d never trespassed the boundary of chaste kisses. His other experiences were with paid and experienced bedpartners who had allowed him to go a great deal further. All the way, one might say.

But Violet… she was different from all the rest, a class of her own. Thus far, she’d defied all his attempts to categorize her based on his past experience. Perhaps what he ought to do… was trust her to tell him what she wanted?

“Do you want to, lass?” he said hoarsely.

At her game nod, his cock wept a tear of relief. Fumbling with the fasteners, he lowered the placket of his trousers, his rod springing eagerly free of its confines. She turned onto her side to face him, and he guided her hand. His member jumped at her touch.

“It’s chomping at the bit, isn’t it?” she said with a breathless laugh.

“You have no idea,” he muttered. “Violet, are you certain…?”

She whispered, “Tell me what to do.”

She was his every fantasy come alive.

He wrapped her slender fingers around his shaft, showing her the general motion. Violet, being Violet, caught on quickly. She tackled the task with a feminine energy that made his senses spin. Leaning back on his elbows, he gave himself up to the pleasure of her touch, of watching her work his turgid pole with her delicate hands.

“You’re hard and soft at the same time,” she marveled.

“Soft?” He didn’t think so. At the moment, his truncheon was so big and thick that she was using two hands to pump him.

“Your skin is like velvet,” she clarified. “Wrapped around a poker or something.”

He choked back a laugh. “How, er, poetic of you.”

“Books were never my forte.” Her thumb rubbed against the slit in his cockhead, and his neck arched in bliss. “Why is it wet here?”

“Because you’re touching me so well, lass.”

“Oh… so this makes you feel good?”

Good
wasn’t the word for it.
Randier than a sailor
, maybe.

Like he was about to unload his cannon
—definitely.

But all he could manage was, “Aye,” because her thumb was drawing exquisite circles over his engorged dome, smearing his pre-spend, making him shudder with need.

“You’re sensitive here,” she murmured.

“’Tis like your pearl for you. In this, we’re not so different.”

To illustrate his point, he reached between her thighs. His cock seeped a little more when he found her pussy freshly dewy, her bud bold and slick. He diddled her, and she moaned, her grip tightening on him.

“That’s it, lass. Do it harder, faster,” he urged.

She instantly obeyed, and God, her
hands
—they were made to handle him, to bring him to the brink. He returned the favor, plowing his fingers into her cunny as she frigged his cock. Soon they were both panting, racing toward climax. His balls drew up, heat roiling at the base of his shaft. She came again, her pussy clenching his driving digits.

He bit down on his lip to prevent a shout, tasting blood as he erupted in her hands. He shot his seed again and again, drenching her palms, molten trails leaking through her fingers.

Flopping onto his back, he dragged her into his arms and tried to catch his breath. Dazedly, he thought to offer her a handkerchief, but that would presuppose that he could move. And he wasn’t certain that he could. Ever again.

“Carlisle, that was,”—Violet’s voice was breathy in his ear—“
tip-top
.”

His lips curved up in the darkness. Because, Christ, she was right.

Making love with her
was
tip bloody top.

Chapter Nineteen

After lunch the next day, Violet was given permission to stroll around the courtyard with Carlisle. Others were also enjoying the graveled paths, which were bordered by hedges, scattered Greek and Roman statuary providing points of interest. Across the way, Vi saw Wick; thankfully, he looked back to his usual self. He was paying attendance to Miss Turbett, her father following at their heels. In front of them, Parnell and Goggs were escorting Primrose and Polly, the four laughing merrily.

Sitting on a bench at the center of the quadrangle, Emma kept an eye on everyone.

“Did your sister suspect that you left your chamber last night?” Carlisle asked as he and Vi walked along the path.

To an outside observer, Carlisle’s expression would appear impassive. Beneath the brim of his hat, his rugged features were schooled, and he looked every inch the proper lord in his tobacco brown frock coat and biscuit trousers tucked into polished Hessians. But Violet recognized the intimate gleam in his eyes, and it made her insides as warm and gooey as a freshly baked treacle tart.

Trying not to blush, she said, “Not that I know of. To be on the safe side, I did arrange several pillows beneath the covers. So if she looked in, she would have seen a sleeping form.”

“Enterprising.” His lips twitched. “Done this often, have you?”

“You’re the first gentleman I’ve snuck off to see,” she said candidly.

“I meant pulling the wool over your sister’s eyes.” His gaze narrowed. “As to sneaking off to meet gentlemen, I’ll be the first and the last. There’s no going back, Violet. It’s time we made things official between us.”

Joy and trepidation warred within her, a confusing mix. On the one hand, there was their fierce and undeniable attraction—as evidenced by their most recent interlude beneath the wardrobe. Just thinking about those steamy moments quickened her pulse. Yet their desire and compatibility felt new; they’d been enemies longer than they’d been lovers.

A marriage could not succeed on physical attraction alone, she reasoned. There had to be friendship and respect for one another. She knew from experience that she couldn’t change who she was; she couldn’t bear it if they wed and he ended up… disappointed.

Running her gloved fingers along the top of a hedge, she strengthened her resolve. “I told you my terms last night, and they haven’t changed. If you want to court me, you’ll have to do it while we’re working together to help Wick.”

His forehead lined with frustration; she braced for his refusal.

“Why do you want to be involved in this dangerous business, lass? Why is working together so important to you?” He was looking at her intently, as if her answer truly mattered to him.

“Because I want you to like me,” she blurted.

“I do like you.”

“I’m not sure that’s true,” she said sadly.

He quirked an eyebrow. “If our time in the Priest Hole, the library, and, most recently, the wardrobe hasn’t convinced you, I’d be happy to give it another go.”

Heat rose in her cheeks. “Not
that
kind of liking. The other kind.”

“What other kind?” He sounded genuinely confused.

“The kind where you admire my qualities and respect my views,” she said in a rush. “Where we share common interests and, to put it plainly, we’re
friends
.”

“I don’t want to be your friend,” he countered. “I want to be your husband.”

“The two are not mutually exclusive conditions. I don’t want to be wed to someone I don’t enjoy spending time with.”
And I don’t want you to regret marrying me.

“Fine,” he said quickly. “We’ll be friends.”

“Just
saying
it doesn’t make it true.”

“Tell me how to make it true, and I will.”

His commanding tenacity made her heart stutter. Perhaps that was why she’d never known desire before him. She’d been around boys all her life, but Carlisle… he was all man.

“To see if we’re a true match, we need to get to know one another, share confidences,” she explained. “I want you to treat me as you would a friend—Lord Blackwood, for instance.”

“That makes no sense. Of course I’m going to treat you differently from Blackwood,” he said, his tone incredulous. “I want to share my bed with you, not pass the time playing billiards and talking about the hunt.”

The mention of his bed
made her knees wobble. “Why can’t we do all those things?”

For an instant, he looked baffled. He recovered quickly. “If that’s your wish, then we can.”

“But physical attraction aside,” she persisted, “do you trust me the way you trust Lord Blackwood? Value my opinion in the same way?”

“That’s not a fair comparison. I’ve known Blackwood for years.”

“Fair enough. Then we need more time to get to know one another,” she conceded.

“How much time?”

“As long as it takes?”

“That’s not an answer.” Now he sounded annoyed.

“Are you certain you want to court me? We’re so different.”

“I’m certain,” he said flatly. “You’re the one who needs convincing.”

“And I’ve told you how to accomplish that.”

He came to a halt in front of a statue of Hercules, depicted performing one of his labors. Carlisle’s expression was as fierce as the marble figure’s. “All right.”

“All right?”

“If it’s your wish, we’ll work together.”

She felt like she’d imbibed champagne, bubbles of joy bursting inside her. “Thank you—”

“Don’t thank me yet. There are rules.”

She should have known.

He took her hand, tucking it into the crook of his arm and placing his hand over it for good measure. They continued walking. “If we do this, you’ll be guided by me. You’ll heed my advice and not act recklessly. Most importantly,”—he pinned her with a glance—“you’re not to put yourself in danger, do you understand?”

“I understand,” she said giddily.

“That’s settled, then. When shall I speak to your brother?”

“Um… about what?”

“To make my suit known,” he said with a hint of impatience.

Panic trickled through her. She’d thought they were talking about a private understanding, just between the two of them. She wasn’t ready to expose their budding relationship to
public
scrutiny.

“It’s too soon to speak to Ambrose. Everything has happened so quickly and—”

“There’s no reason to drag your heels. Lord knows we’re already concealing too much from your family as it is. I must insist that I court you properly, out in the open.”

She strove to come up with a compromise. One that wouldn’t lock Carlisle into a decision he might later regret. “How about we decide at the end of the house party whether or not you ought to speak to my brother?”

“Why wait? The time for dithering is over.”

“I’m not dithering,” she protested. “This is an important decision, one that affects the rest of our lives. I just want both of us to be certain.”

“I am certain,” he said stubbornly.

“How can you be so sure?”

“Because I’ve been through this before.”

“You
have
?” Surprise made her halt, but he kept going, dragging her along. “When? I mean, everyone says you’re a confirmed bachelor. There’s no talk of you being attached to any lady.”

“The instances happened in my youth and were not widely known.”

“Instances—as in
plural
? More than once?”

“That is the generally accepted meaning of plural.” His tone tight, he said, “I won’t go into details, but suffice it to say I believed I had the affections of the young ladies involved. With the first, I was her brother’s friend. I helped squire her through her season and bailed her out of more than a few scrapes. She always expressed her gratitude and showed a certain preference for me—or so I thought. When I declared myself, she said she’d never thought of me in that manner.”

“Oh… I’m sorry.” Vi didn’t know what else to say.

“I don’t want your pity,” he said with disgust. “I’m telling you this so you understand my perspective. The second instance started off similarly to the first. The young lady had given me every indication that she thought I was acceptable to her. When I asked for her hand, she agreed.”

“What happened then?”

“She wanted our engagement to be kept secret for the time being. Said her sister was newly engaged and she didn’t want to steal the other’s thunder.” His expression was stark. “After a month of skulking around, I told her that I wanted our courtship to be out in the open. It was then that she confessed she was in love with another man. She eloped with him a week later.”

Butter and jam.
He’d been strung along by ladies not once but
twice
. For a man as proud as Carlisle, that must have been difficult to bear. Vi recalled his earlier accusations about her being a flirt—and realized she now knew the origins of his prejudices.

Then another thought occurred to her: in these incidences, had his heart been broken? She found she didn’t like that notion
at all
.

“Were you very… hurt?” she said cautiously.

“My pride was. I was angry as hell. After that, it was clear to me that I have no talent when it comes to reading females. I don’t understand the hidden signals of your sex.”