Chapter 20

CHAPTER20

Xander couldn’t stop watching Violet as she bathed in the fresh water he’d had brought up for her bath. The sunlight was beginning to fade now through the windows, and he lit candles around the bedchamber, the better to see her as she dipped her head beneath the water and then came back up. The rivulets of water ran down her hair and across her breasts.

Dear God. She’ll be the death of me.

He paused what he was doing, still watching her. Now that they had at last made love, so much made sense to Xander. He understood why he had sometimes thought about the woman he’d seen in the bookshop.

He understood too why she had written about him. There had been something there from the very beginning, and if he had known it could be this good, then he would have asked her to marry him sooner.

“You keep staring,” she whispered, looking over her shoulder at him. “Do you think I have not noticed?”

“Can’t help it,” he said in a deep voice, with full honesty.

He lit the final candle and moved toward the back of the tub. He had a thick dressing gown over his shoulders, almost tapestry-like in material, but all he could think of was her wet body before him, and what it would feel like to run his hands over her.

“It looks like you’d like to do something else rather than just look,” she teased, that knowing smile in place.

“Don’t tempt me,” he warned, bending over her in the bath. She leaned back against the rim, so their faces were practically upside down to one another. “You’ll be sore.”

“I don’t feel sore.” She writhed under the water, and the movement made his eyes shoot down to the rest of her body. “I feel…”

“What?”

He longed to hear the words. Satiated? Pleasured? Or… did she want more?

“Longing,” she confessed.

He needed no further encouragement. He pulled off the dressing gown and dropped it to the floor, glad he had suggested that they didn’t leave this room for the rest of the day. When he was bare, he moved around the bath and began to climb in.

“What are you doing?” She sat up in surprise, her breasts now rising above the water, so he could see her body in its glory.

“Satisfying your longing,” he answered her swiftly. He sat down in the bath at the other end, then took hold of her waist and drew her toward him. “How long have you had this longing, I wonder?” he whispered, shifting her so that her knees ended up on either side of his hips.

She could surely feel his length as it teased her entrance, for her lips fell open in a kind of wonder and her hands gripped his shoulders hard.

“Did you wonder about this that first day in the bookshop?”

She bit her lip, not answering him. He cocked an eyebrow, knowing the answer without her having to say it.

“You did, did you not? You thought about this.”

He took hold of her hips and lowered her onto him. She threw back her head, a perfect moan escaping her lips as she arched her neck in the most sensual way. He splayed his fingers around her waist and hips, trying to touch as much of her as he possibly could.

“You thought about it.”

“I… I did,” she confessed.

It was all he wanted to hear. He rocked her hips against his own, urging her to set up a rhythm. Once she gripped the sides of the tub, getting more purchase for herself and no longer needing him to direct her movements, he released her and watched.

His eyes never left her body as she rocked against him, continuously pleasuring the both of them as his length slid in and out of her. It was sensual, a kind of passion he had not thought he would ever experience.

His hands wandered, unable to stop touching her. He squeezed her breasts, then her hips, and moved down to her thighs, making her shudder despite the warmth of the water.

When he reached between her legs, finding that bundle of nerves, she tipped back her head, reaching her end. She stilled with the movements, but he wanted her to enjoy the feeling to its fullest, so drove his hips up, taking over.

She kept moaning his name. “Xander…”

The sound of it on her lips repeatedly as he pleasured her through her climax was everything. He wondered why they had not done this that night in the garden, and why they hadn’t been doing this every night since she had come to stay in his house.

He moved them in the bath. She yelped in surprise, laughing as she ended up on her back, her legs spread wide, as he gripped the edge of the bathtub and drove into her.

How could he do without this? This feeling? It wasn’t just sex, it was something more—something he couldn’t put his finger on. Then, he felt it. His release came, and just as before, he stayed inside her. He hadn’t even considered the fact he was risking a child by reaching his end inside her. He thought only of the two of them having as much pleasure together as possible.

The look on her face, that intensity, showed him he had done the right thing, her hands gripping his shoulders as he thrust into her for the final time.

We’ll have this.

He down from his high, bending forward and moving his lips to her neck. He kissed her there, possessively, reluctant to let her go.

I’ll make sure we always have this feeling between us.

* * *

“So? How’s it coming?” Xander leaned against the doorframe of the parlor, looking toward Violet as she sat by the writing desk.

She still wore her nightgown, with a dressing gown thrown over the top. Her loose hair, tangled around her shoulders in the morning light, was making him aroused again.

It seems this need for her will never be fully satisfied.

Something inside him warmed at the thought. Violet was now his wife. They could make love as much as they liked, for there were no rules or barriers between them now.

She sighed heavily and laid the paper she had been reading back down on the desk. “It’s hopeless,” she whispered. “I’m too distracted to write.”

“Too distracted?” Xander walked into the room, moving toward her. He placed his hands on the back of her chair and leaned down over her, looking at the blank paper, but catching her eye. “Would that have something to do with me?”

“You know it does.” She laughed softly, then shook her head. “I don’t know.” She sighed once more. “It seems whenever I try to write about this character now, I think of the real you. You are too much of a distraction!”

She waved impatiently at him, and he smiled, his eyes flicking toward the newspaper that was publishing her tale in installments.

For him, there was something strange about the thought of this character left still unfinished out there in the ton’s minds. This character’s story wasn’t yet completely told, while he’d found some sort of peace, at last.

“Then leave it for today.” He nodded at the desk. “You can come back to it another time.”

“I could do so, I suppose.” She slid the paper away, apparently not needing much more persuasion. She stood from her desk and turned to face him. “What are you going to do today?” she asked, running her hands up and down her arms.

Just at the sight of her touch on those sleeves made him wish to return to bed with her. He wrapped an arm around her waist, pulled her near, and kissed her softly.

The kiss was slow and gentle. The way she sank into him, her hands reaching for his chest, gave him power, and something else. A feeling that he couldn’t quite put a finger on.

When he pulled back from her, he could see her cheeks had pinkened once again at his touch.

As much as he wished to take her back to bed, he knew her body would be sore after everything they had done the day before. They needed some rest, to allow her body time to recover.

“I could do some work, I suppose,” he said slowly. “The tenants need attending to.”

“No.” She shook her head. “If I am not working today, surely your work can wait for one more day, too. Why don’t you show me what it is you like to do with your time?”

He cocked an eyebrow, startled by her suggestion.

“What?” she asked with a laugh. “Is the idea so mad?”

“It’s just that the supposition suggests you do not know what I do with my time.”

“Well, I do not imagine you spend your days standing in corners and glaring at people when you are not with the ton. You’ll save that for the ton’s assemblies and balls, will you not?” she asked wittily, and he smiled.

“True, I do.” He softened his features, his eyes flitting to the window.

“Show me how you spend a day when you are looking to enjoy yourself. Completely,” she added, with a clear feeling in her tone.

She wishes to know me better.

Xander felt that strange sensation filling him again. Not only was warmth attached to it, but he put it down to something like an addiction. The thought of being with Violet for the whole day was exciting, indeed.

“Very well.” He smiled, his eyes flicking to the window in thought. It was a sunny day, the sun rising higher and higher by the minute. “Dress and meet me outside in half an hour’s time. Bring a jacket or something to wear. I shall show you something.”

“You have me intrigued.”

“Good.” He kissed her once again, his lips moving against her own with intensity.

It was some time before he pulled back, and when he did, she was shaking with that now all-so-familiar excitement that he had seen the day before.

* * *

Violet pulled on her spencer as she stepped outside of the house and toward the driveway. Standing on the gravel was not just Xander, awaiting her as still as a statue, but behind him stood a single horse.

Tall and black, with a single white dot on his nose, the stallion was an impressive creature, almost as impressive as his master, tall and lithe.

“Who’s this?” she asked, approaching the horse.

The stallion turned his nose toward her in greeting, and she patted his nose, watching as he closed his eyes as if indulging in her touch.

“This is Shadow.”

“An apt name.” She giggled and looked at Xander. “You seem to have a fondness for the darker things in life, do you not? Why is that?”

“The darker things?” He smiled, almost mischievously, as he turned and athletically pulled himself up into the saddle.

The suit he wore was different from his usual one. Though it was just as black, this one wasn’t so formal, and he pushed the sleeves up to his elbows with ease. The tie at his throat was no cravat, but a smaller and more comfortable black tie.

“Perhaps I do.” He sat forward in the saddle and then offered his hand to her. “Maybe I see something in the dark things others don’t see.”

“What’s that?” she asked, giving him her hand as she moved to stand beside the saddle. “Do you think them misunderstood?”

He didn’t answer but smiled, just the smallest amount. It was an insight into his thoughts, one she hadn’t seen before.

“Up,” he whispered.

She allowed him to pull her up into the saddle to sit behind him. She sat side saddle, her body pressed close to his.

“Now, hold on tight.” His voice deepened as he gave the instruction, and her arms wrapped around his stomach.

He must have been reminded of their escapades the day before, as she was, for neither of them said anything for a minute and just stayed as they were, her hands on his waist, their bodies pressed close together.

“Get ready,” he urged.

“For what—ah!” she yelped in surprise as the horse leapt forward with a sudden start.

Xander gave no other warning as he flicked the reins and the horse galloped off down the track. It was no polite promenade or trot with the horse, but an adventurous gallop.

They soon left the track and headed toward the trees in the parkland. They shot under the branches of oak trees and down a windy path that passed the two pavilions skirting the edge of the lake, then they darted toward a distant hill, its crest peeking between the London skyline of tiled roofs.

The wind buffeted Violet’s face, her hair dancing behind her and in danger of falling out of its updo. The excitement with which Xander rode bled into her, and she couldn’t think of anything else except this ride with him.

It was as if they were far out of London, not within its depths at all. They were in a world of their own, buffeted by the wind, with the sun shining down on them.

The horse snorted as they rode up the hill, getting increasingly closer to the top. The whole time, Xander leaned forward a little over the horse’s head, urging him on with great skill, and never once making a misstep in his instructions.

When they broke through the trees at the top of the hill, appearing at a clearing, both Xander and Violet were panting. The horse slowed down to a canter, then eventually stopped as Xander pulled on the reins. The horse snorted in objection, apparently wanting to gallop once again.

Violet laughed aloud as she clutched at Xander’s jacket, looking around at how far they had come in such a short amount of time.

“This is what you do with your days?” she asked through her laughter. “No wonder you have no care for the ton when you have such freedom as this!”

“Freedom. That’s what it is,” he said in a deep voice, his eyes darting across the London skyline that was now beneath them from their position on the hill. It was as if he was searching for something in those London streets, though he wasn’t sure what. “Surely you do the same.” He turned a little, angling his head to look at her. “What else is it you do with your writing if not escaping from this world we live in?”

“You’re more perceptive than you first appear, are you not?” she asked with a small smile. “Yes, it is.” She looked past him at the London rooftops. “The world we live in can be limiting. When I write, there are endless possibilities for the world in which I create.”

“Hmm.” He nodded thoughtfully. “Now that is something I understand. The chance for an escape.”

Silence fell between them, and Violet no longer watched London, but Xander. She examined his face and the twitch of a muscle in his jaw.

“What made you want to escape this world?” she asked in a small voice. “Was it…” She hesitated.

The past was something she had not discussed with him before, but she felt a longing to know more now.

She liked him, very dearly, indeed. Maybe Eleanor had called her feelings for him “limerence,” but that was not how Violet saw it. She saw something deeper, something with much more heart in it. It would at least explain why whenever she thought of the fact that Xander was to be married once before, jealousy curdled in her gut.

“Was it the past that makes you wish to escape the ton? What happened before?” she asked, skirting around the issue but not quite saying the words.

He looked at her, his eyes squinted, but he said nothing.

“You know what I mean,” she whispered. “Was it your first betrothed that makes you wish to escape—”

“I’ll not discuss that.” Xander shook his head. “You remember what I offered you that night we agreed to marry, Vi. I offered you friendship and excitement.”

Not love.

She felt winded, as if he had kicked her in the gut with his words.

“As part of that deal, I have one rule,” he whispered. “That rule is that I will not discuss Tilly.”

With these final words, he flicked the reins, and she had to hold on tight again as the horse descended the hill in a sudden, fast gallop.

Tilly… he still calls her by her Christian name.