Chapter 14

CHAPTER14

“Iam sorry, but I need to speak to Violet.” Xander kept his voice even as he looked at the closed door.

Hearing Celia’s voice answer him was hardly something he had expected, though he was not surprised. He alone had noticed the sadness in Violet’s eyes when she had run out of the study.

His mother, completely oblivious, had just continued congratulating him. It made sense that someone else in this house, like him, would have noticed the sadness in Violet.

The door opened before him, and Celia stood on the other side. Beyond her, he spotted Violet, who sat at the foot of her bed, a handkerchief screwed up in her hand. Her face was blotchy and red from crying, though she had now stopped.

“Well, I suppose I can leave you two alone to talk,” Celia said, peering up and down the corridor to make sure no one else noticed he was there. “Hardly as if more scandal can befall you if you two are to be married.” She stepped out of the door and then lowered her voice, so only Xander could hear her. “Take care of my sister, Your Grace.”

Before he could even consider saying anything in reply, Celia walked away, down the corridor, and didn’t once look back.

When they were alone, Xander stepped into the room and closed the door behind him. He noticed Violet flinch at the movement. This time, he was careful to turn the key only partway, so if anyone else fancied a wander around the house, they would not be able to thrust the key out of the lock, as his mother had done in the study.

He turned back to face Violet, leaning against the door and looking at her. She was perfectly still with that handkerchief crumpled up in her hand.

She was as beautiful to him now as she had been earlier that evening, even with her face blotchy and her eyes red. Dressed in the alluring crimson gown, the only thing that made her even more beautiful now was her hair coming out of her updo, something he knew was his doing from when he had kissed her.

“I am sorry. Truly,” he said, his voice deep. “It was not my intention for us to be discovered.”

“I know.” She nodded. “I am sorry, too. I hardly blame you. I wished to kiss you, Xander. I wished to know more.” She shrugged, looking quite helpless, before she turned her focus to that handkerchief, playing with it. “It was my own weakness.”

“Weakness?” he repeated.

Something flashed in his mind, something his sister had said about how a heart willing to feel passion was not weak but strong.

“You do not owe me an apology.” Violet held her head high once more. “You offer marriage now for convenience, to protect both of our reputations, do you not?”

He nodded.

She said nothing but nodded ever so slightly. Silence stretched between them for a few seconds before she sighed and looked away.

“I am as much in the wrong,” she murmured, more to herself than to him. “I just wanted to know… something more.”

“For rebellion’s sake? Or for another reason entirely?”

“To know the feeling.” She sat taller once more. “To know pleasure completely. To know you. It didn’t feel wrong at the time.”

There is nothing wrong with that.

Xander didn’t think of what he was doing. He stepped away from the door and walked toward her. She shifted back a little on the foot of the bed, evidently startled by his movements.

“I will not leave you wanting,” he said in a deep, husky tone and reached for her on the bed.

Threading his hands into her hair, he urged her head back a little, just enough so he could capture her lips with his own.

After everything that happened, he thought she might push him away, push against his chest and demand he leave, but when her hands did reach up toward him, they clutched onto the edges of his waistcoat. Far from pushing him away, she clawed at him, pulling him down toward her.

He molded his body over hers on the bed, pressing his body to hers as much as he possibly could.

He needed this. He needed this release, to satisfy this longing for her that had consumed him ever since he met her at the ball. It may not mean anything more than that to either of them, but right now, that need was everything, and it was the one thing he could give her.

He kissed down her neck, feeling her pull away in order to gasp and catch her breath. Far from tarrying at her neck, where he had done so many times now, he kissed down the deep neckline of her gown and pulled at the edge of the crimson material, feeling for the stays beneath and kissing the swell of her breast that was exposed.

When she gasped, pressing a hand to her lips in an effort to muffle that sound, he continued, kissing down the stomacher of her dress and toward her hips.

He shifted the silken material, toying with it in his hands, pulling it around her hips as he kissed her through it. The way she writhed beneath his touch was everything. It was as if he was some sort of drug to her.

Never had a woman responded so much to his touch. Not once.

As he pulled at the skirt of her gown, this time, there was no clunk at the door, no sound to disturb them. Only Violet’s quick breaths filled the air.

He pulled her gown and chemise up until they were gathered about her hips, then he set about exploring her alabaster legs. He kissed every part of her skin that was exposed, peeling her stockings down to reveal more and more of her, nipping her ankles, then spending a long time with languid, wet kisses up her calves and her knees, then up the her inner thighs.

She was trembling, gripping the bed covers beneath her, clearly wanting the same thing he wanted.

“I…” she whispered, struggling to speak between her breathy sounds. “I have never known this feeling.”

“Need?” he whispered against her thigh, then moved his lips to her hip and kissed the bare skin there.

He shifted the last covering of her gown, revealing her damp curls to him. He growled in the back of his throat.

That same possessive monster that had been rising in him all day seemed to take over his body. He was tempted to claim her entirely, to completely make her his own, but that was not what this was about.

This moment was about bringing her release after the shock of what had happened, to make her smile, to make her happy, even if it was for a brief time.

“Need, longing,” she answered him, tangling her hands in the covers even more. “Desperation.”

He knew what she meant. It clawed at him, this desperation to stay in this room with her, to give her something.

“It is like an ache.” Her legs rubbed together as she clearly tried to give herself some friction, to satisfy that ache between her legs.

He laid a hand on one of her thighs and then shifted her leg to the side, watching as she raised her head an inch off the bed, her green eyes wide. Clearly, she wanted to see what he was going to do next.

He kissed along her hip and down her abdomen, then he shifted himself, lying on his stomach between her legs, and hooked her right thigh over his shoulder.

She gasped, and he didn’t know if it was because of this new position, as he moved her other thigh to hook it over his left shoulder, or if it was because she could feel his hot breath on her center and knew what was coming next.

“What are you…” she whispered.

He smiled a little. She wanted to ask what he was going to do. She didn’t know what could occur, all the ways he could bring her pleasure.

“This is lesson one,” he whispered against the skin of her hips. “Perhaps it will help you someday with the kind of heat you should put in your writing.”

Her eyes widened a little, fixed on his, and then he shifted himself and found her wet and ready for him. He pressed his lips to her center.

* * *

Such a shock of pleasure erupted within Violet that she threw her head back on the covers.

She couldn’t believe what was happening and could not fathom it. Had she known this was a thing, known it could bring pleasure, then she may have even dreamt about it late at night when she was completely alone.

Xander began to explore her, kissing her in her most private part. When her legs shuddered, that trembling grew greater each time his tongue rubbed a sensitive bundle of nerves, and moans began to fall from her lips.

She reached up and covered her mouth, not wanting anyone in the corridors to hear what Xander was doing to her body.

He moved down a little and, suddenly, plunged his tongue inside of her. Overwhelmed at the sheer sensation rippling through her body, she turned her face and bit the bedsheets, needing it to stop herself from crying out.

It was like a slow sort of torture. With his languid, slow kisses, the pleasure was tormenting, growing within her, but somehow, it was not quite enough or hard enough. Her body wanted more, and she didn’t know how to tell him this.

He grew bolder, faster with his movements, and she opened her eyes, looking down to watch what he was doing to her. Had she known that the first time she had set eyes on those icy blue eyes how she would see them now, staring at her as he pleasured her, she would not have believed it. Neither would she have believed this sort of sensation was possible.

He held her gaze, not looking away from her as he moved one of his hands from her thigh. She scarcely had time to wonder where that hand was going when he returned his tongue to that sensitive bundle of nerves, and his fingers found her entrance.

When he entered her, that need for more friction, for something stronger, was finally satisfied. Her head fell back on the covers, and she returned to biting the sheets to stop herself from moaning.

Her legs trembled, and the pleasure coiled so much in her lower abdomen that she was sure that something was building. Her body felt like it was about to be thrown off a waterfall, somehow standing at the very edge of a cliff, waiting for something.

Then, he slid a second finger inside her, and she felt as if she had dropped from that waterfall. Such pleasure rode over her in a sudden wave that she raised both hands and covered her face, moaning into her palms as he rocked her body with his tongue and hand.

It was so simple what he was doing to her, and yet it had such power over her, as if he had some magic, some dark sorcerer that rendered her helpless.

She was somehow reminded of all the gothic novels she had read. How the antihero was a draw, for he was the power of seduction, the power over the heroine that rendered her completely weak.

I am weak for him.

Then, it was over. As abruptly as her body had been introduced to pleasure, that overwhelming feeling was gone. He lifted himself up, no longer kissing her, though his fingers still toyed with her. Her body, now sensitive, trembled beneath him, and she flinched a little, before he stopped moving, resting his weight on a single palm that he placed beside her head on the bed.

“That is something I can give you, Vi,” he promised, his voice deep and husky.

He leaned down toward her and kissed her. She wrapped her arms around his neck, acting on instinct and keeping him close to her. Their tongues danced together, his hands moving up to brace against the bed as she gripped him, then she released him.

“It is all you can give,” she whispered, reading between the lines.

Slowly, he nodded.

Where pleasure had been a few seconds ago, overriding desire, there was now a pit in her stomach. It didn’t matter if he was going to marry her. This was his way of telling her that she could never have his heart.

“I may not have your heart, but I can have this,” she summarized.

He placed his forehead against hers. It was a surprisingly intimate feeling to her when he was telling her that there would always be distance between them, always a marriage of convenience and nothing more.

“This and friendship. It’s all I’m capable of offering. You understand?”

“I do,” she said quickly. She dropped her hands to the bed suddenly, not wanting to touch him anymore. “That and to help me finish my story, of course,” she tried to jest and forced a smile.

His lips flickered into the smallest of smiles, but it didn’t last. “I didn’t mean to offend you.”

“You didn’t.” She shook her head. “I… I need to sleep after that. Please, would you leave me now?”

She couldn’t confess the true reason, that the pleasure had meant everything to her, and her body longed to relive it, to have something more from him, and yet she feared asking for more when she knew his heart wasn’t at risk.

My heart is the only one at risk.

“Of course.”

Despite his words, he bent down toward her and tried to kiss her. She turned her head away, so he kissed her cheek instead, and then he lifted himself up.

She heard him leaving the room more than she saw it. She didn’t bother to undress and just reached for the covers, pulling them back and hiding beneath the blankets. A minute or so later, she heard the door creak shut, and it suggested that Xander had perhaps stood there, watching her for a minute before he left.

Then, he was gone.

Try as Violet might, she could not sleep. Each time she closed her eyes, she was haunted either by pleasant images or haunted ones.

Sometimes, she saw herself being pleasured by Xander again. Other times, she saw herself at the altar, and as she was about to marry, she turned to the groom to see he was no man at all. He was merely dust, ash and shadow, his figure vaporous, indistinct, and when she reached out to touch him, he vanished.