“Should say I more or less found him. I thought we’d discover he’d died, as you’d supposed, but he’s in Paris . . . somewhere. Pinning him down is tricky, because he’s slippery, but we’ll get him. I also had inquiries made about the marriage.” Daniel gentled his voice. “It was legal, Vi. Still is. He hasn’t ended it.”
Violet’s chest rose. “No?”
“But I have solicitors on it, to see how we can get you free.”
Violet closed her eyes briefly, fighting something inside her. When she opened her eyes again, her face was pale under the brim of her fetching black hat.
“Jacobi is Catholic,” she said. “He might not agree to divorce or even annulment under any circumstance. Perhaps I should leave it alone. I’d rather let him think me dead or too far away to bother about.”
“Ye need to be free of him,” Daniel said sternly. “I thought you’d want to be.”
“I do.” Her eyes flickered with fear and remembered pain. “But if there’s a battle . . . I’m not strong enough for a battle just now. I’ve only found my breath in the last few days.”
“Violet . . .” Daniel caught her around the waist, gently sliding her down from the horse. “Let’s talk on the ground.”
Violet landed with a light thump, and Daniel swung down after her. Medusa wandered away in search of grass, but Daniel knew she wouldn’t go far. She was placid, she liked her warm stall in the barn with her friends, and she’d not run off.
“I don’t want to see Jacobi,” Violet said in a hard voice. “Never again.”
Daniel took off his hat and dropped it to a dry patch on the ground, letting the breeze ruffle his short hair. “You might not have to see him at all. But I’m going to get you free of him. I won’t stop until I do.”
Violet started to walk a step, but her knees buckled. Daniel caught her and turned her to him.
“You’re so strong, love.” He found the pins of her hat, loosened them, and pulled the hat off to join his on the ground. “You can face this.”
Violet lifted her head. Her eyes were dry, piercing. “If I see him, I don’t know what I’ll do. I’ve tried to understand, tried to reason why he would do what he did to me, but I find no reason. I loved and admired Jacobi—I’d have done anything for him—and in return he destroyed my life. He’s still destroying it.”
He was, damn the man. “Jacobi was a selfish bastard who used you to get himself out of a tight spot, and that’s the end of it. He decided he didn’t need to face the consequences when he could shove a girl in front of him to face them for him. I’ve met men like Jacobi before, almost got killed because of one. He doesn’t deserve your understanding.”
Violet’s brows drew together. “What happened to you? How did you almost get killed?”
“It’s another tale of my harrowing adventures. I was meant to take the blame for a murder a man I thought was a close friend did. When the victim’s friends and brothers came for him, my friend was nowhere in sight, but there I was—he’d told them I’d done it. Lucky for me, I had a good knife and was fast on my feet. I got out of the town, out of the country, out of that part of the world.”
“Dear God, Daniel.”
Her eyes were wide with concern. Daniel shook his head. “It was a long time ago. I learned, didn’t I?”
Violet drew a breath. “I’m glad you’re all right. I would have lost you before I’d even met you.”
The worry in her eyes touched him. Violet was starting to care for him, and that warmed Daniel better than the hottest fire.
“But I’m here, lass. I was meant to escape, because now I’m here with you.”
“And Jacobi’s going to take it away from me.” Her bleak look returned. “I’ve finally found a chance at happiness, however brief, and he won’t let me have it.”
“’Twill not be brief.” Daniel gathered Violet against him. “I promise you that. I’m a selfish bastard too.”
Violet closed her hands around the lapels of Daniel’s coat. “You say I’m brave, but I’m not at all. I don’t want to lose what little I’ve found.”
“Little? Trying to flatter me, are you?” Daniel pressed a kiss to the tip of her cold nose. “I told you I’d show you life, and I will. Taking the motorcar to the time trials is my excuse to go back to France. You’ll come with me. Not to skulk in a dull hotel while I hunt down your soon-to-be-former husband. We’ll work on testing the motorcar by day, and at night I will show you what it’s like to be the lady of Daniel Mackenzie. I’m going to woo you so hard you’ll run to shove my solicitors down Jacobi’s throat.”
A sparkle of her usual spirit returned to Violet’s eyes. Daniel was glad of it—he hated to see her so broken. “I will, will I?” she asked.
“You will, love. The motorcar will be finished in a few days, and then it’s off to Paris and the races.”
Violet’s hands tightened on his coat. “I don’t know. I thought I’d have more time to think about this.”
Daniel gentled his voice. “I know you did. But trust me, it’s best to face something head on, smash it, and move on with your life. Lingering and wondering, waiting and worrying . . . that kills you.”
Violet looked up at him. “Did that happen to you?”
“I was a boy who thought he was to blame for his mother’s death. It ate at me—I kept wondering what I’d done to make her want to kill me. I resented my father for not telling me sooner exactly how she’d died. I realize now I should have had it out with him and been finished with it. I didn’t understand that Dad had been hurting all those years same as me, and blaming himself. We wasted a lot of time.”
Violet nodded, not answering. She didn’t have to speak. She understood.
The wind slid in with its icy fingers. In the cold, Violet was a thing of warmth, softness to his hardness. Daniel held her closer, parting her lips in a kiss.
She tasted of the winter and the wind that pushed them. At the same time, Violet relaxed under Daniel’s hands, she leaning into him as though seeking refuge from the chill.
When Daniel eased back from the kiss, he saw the fear still in her eyes. Violet’s instinct to run was sharp. Running had been how she’d survived, but Daniel knew she’d only survive now if she stopped running.
He traced her cheek. “I’ll be with you, love. Every step of the way.”
Violet shivered. “I’m so afraid of going back. I never want to go back.”
“It’s not going back. Right now you’re stuck in a mire. This will be you fighting your way out and going on. Facing down Jacobi is moving forward, not back.”
Violet swallowed. The animal-like panic in her eyes flashed out then receded as she sought to suppress it. “You make me out to be stronger than I truly am.”
“You are stronger than you think.” Daniel cupped his hands around her elbows. “And don’t worry, sweet. I’ll be right beside you to make sure you don’t fall.”
Violet’s eyes softened, and Daniel bent down to kiss her again.
Mars chose that moment to rush them, bending himself around Violet’s legs and running into Daniel’s. Daniel’s knees gave, and Violet laughed.
“Bloody dog,” Daniel growled.
“It’s cold,” Violet said. “He wants us to keep moving.”
“Yes, all right, let me round up the dratted horse. Don’t laugh so hard. If she’s run for the barn, we have a long walk ahead of us.”
But Medusa hadn’t strayed. Daniel got himself into the saddle, then helped Violet climb up in front of him. She expressed surprise when Daniel didn’t turn at once for the house, but he continued the lesson, riding onward, holding Violet fast and not letting her fall.
The remaining days before their departure to Paris passed too quickly. Violet lay in her bed the last night in Berkshire, too warm under the covers in the overheated room.
Her sleeplessness came from fea
r, not discomfort, the old panic sharpening itself inside her. All very well for Daniel to say it was best to face Jacobi and her fears, that Violet would be strong when the time came.
She saw no reason why Daniel and his lawyers couldn’t take care of everything without her. She might have to sign papers of some sort, but she could do that in an office in London, couldn’t she?
But Daniel was immovable. Violet was going with him to Paris. She’d look upon Jacobi and spit at him, then they’d go win Daniel’s race.
Violet shuddered. If she saw Jacobi again, she wasn’t certain what she’d do. She might go into one of her panics. She might run from him while he laughed. Or worse, she might feel sorry for him and forgive him again. Jacobi had played upon her the same way she played upon her mother’s audiences. He might play upon her still.
But Daniel wouldn’t let any of this happen, would he? He’d be there, making certain all went well. He wanted her to face Jacobi as Violet the woman, not the terrified girl.
I’ll be with you, love. Every step of the way.
And then what? What would Daniel want from Violet after that? To be his lover? His wife?
Violet doubted the Duke of Kilmorgan, Hart Mackenzie, with his eagle eyes and penetrating stare, would allow Daniel to marry a lower-middle-class trickster from Southwark. Daniel was in line to inherit the dukedom, albeit after Hart’s two sons and Cameron, but tragic things could happen to entire families—illnesses, accidents. Daniel could be duke before he knew what happened. The Mackenzies might accept Violet if she would only ever be simple Mrs. Daniel Mackenzie, but perhaps not if there was a chance she’d become Duchess of Kilmorgan.
Violet rolled over and kicked off the covers again. The house was silent, the children having at last been herded to bed. Knowing that Violet and Daniel were to leave tomorrow, the little ones hadn’t wanted to settle down.
Violet would miss them.
She sat up, reached for matches, and lit the candle in the old-fashioned chamber stick on her bed table. Tomorrow, she was leaving the shelter of this house for the world again, and the world was a dangerous place.
It’s best to face something head on, smash it, and move on with your life, Daniel had said the day he’d first taken her out on Medusa. Lingering and wondering, waiting and worrying . . . that kills you.
He was right, and not just about Violet facing her past. She needed to face her present too.
Violet thrust her feet into slippers, opened the door of her room, and ventured into the corridor. She nearly tripped over Venus, who panted up at her, tail thumping.
“Shh.” Violet put her finger to her lips, then reached down, her long braid falling over her shoulder, and patted the dog. Venus yawned noisily and got up to follow Violet.
The house had two long wings. The wide upstairs hall ran from one wing into the staircase hall, down a half flight of stairs, and up another half flight to the other wing of the house. Violet had been put in the guest wing, opposite the one that contained Daniel’s room. She knew exactly which was Daniel’s room, though, because she’d made it her business to know.
Silently Violet picked her way across the dark landing, her single candle lighting the way. She’d come to learn that one of the boards creaked in the middle of the landing—she avoided it.
Venus followed, her nails clicking when they left rugs for bare floor. Outside Daniel’s door, Venus sat down on her haunches and looked at Violet expectantly, tail moving.
“I need to go in alone,” Violet whispered. She might be ridiculous explaining things to a dog, but she felt the need to. Venus looked up at her in seeming understanding.
Violet opened the door and slipped inside the room. Venus gave a resigned sigh and lay down in the hall as Violet shut the door.
Daniel’s chamber was large and dark, the fire burning in the grate not as high as the fire in Violet’s room. The flickering light showed a large, low-post bed against one wall, with a lump of blankets on it. From the lump came a very distinctive snore.
Violet had to smile, though her lips were stiff with fear. She crept forward, stepping carefully so as not to trip on a corner of the carpet, or a discarded boot, or perhaps another dog . . . She put to use her experience moving through the dark at her mother’s séances to glide noiselessly to the bed.
Violet raised her candle. She had a moment of watery fear, worrying she’d gotten the room wrong, then the candlelight fell on Daniel’s face.
He’d pushed the covers half off him and lay with his chest exposed. He’d been wearing a nightshirt, but sometime in the night had dragged it off and tossed it to the floor. The rest of the covers were mounded over his legs, dipping across his hips.
Daniel’s face was rough with new beard, his hair sticking up on the pillow. His eyes were closed, lips parted, and again came the snore.
Violet stood gazing down on him, unable to move. Daniel was a beautiful man, carved flesh and bone, well muscled from his athletic and frenzied pace of life. Violet couldn’t compare him to a god because he was so wonderfully human. Daniel was of the earth, and Violet was glad of it.
Wax dropped from the candle to splash on the sheet. Violet quickly blew out the candle, set it on the bedside table, and reached down to shake Daniel’s shoulder.
A grunt came from Daniel’s lips, but he didn’t wake. Violet shook him again. She tried to say his name, but no sound would come from her mouth.
A hot hand suddenly closed around her wrist. Daniel grunted again as he peeled open his eyes, the amber glint of them catching in the firelight.
The grunt dissolved into Mmm. “What a nice dream.” Daniel gave Violet a slow smile, his grip not loosening. “It stays even when I wake up.”
“D—” The word stuck fast in Violet’s throat.
Daniel’s fingers softened on her, and he tucked his other hand behind his head. “Are you walking in your sleep? Or am I still dreaming?”
Violet swallowed. Her mouth was still too dry, and she coughed. Daniel didn’t rush her. His hold turned to a caress, fingertips brushing the inside of her wrist.
Violet forced out the words in a hurried rush. “Daniel, I want to be your lover.”
“I didn’t think ye’d run in here in the dead of night to discuss your accounts.” Daniel’s brows drew down. “Ye didn’t, did ye?”
“Don’t tease.” She could barely breathe.
Daniel caressed her again, his touch burning. “I can’t help myself. I’m a wicked man.” In spite of his glib words, a guarded light lingered in his eyes.
“I’m wicked too,” Violet said. “I want this. I’m afraid, but I want this with you.” In case I never have another chance. “I want to be your lover. Entirely.”
Another caress as Daniel’s chest rose sharply. “Are ye sure?”
“Very sure.” Violet knew she should do something seductive—sit on the bed, touch him, flirt with him—anything but stand there like a frozen statue. “Please, Daniel. Before I can’t.”
Daniel studied her a moment longer, his fingers moving gently on her wrist. “If I were a stronger man, I’d send you away. Virtuously. For your own good. And mine.” Daniel released her, reached up, closed his hand around the lace of her nightgown, and pulled her down to him. “But I’m not.”
Chapter 27
Firelight kissed Daniel’s body as he pulled Violet close. He did it gently, not forcing, his grip light. Violet knew she could get away if she wanted to, but she didn’t want to. Not this time.
Daniel tugged her down until she lay on him, the barrier of covers between them, propped up on her hands so she didn’t come down on his bare chest. He let go of the nightgown to loosen its buttons—one, two, three, four, five. Daniel kept his gaze on Violet’s face as he loosened the placket enough for him to brush his hand inside.
Warm, rough-skinned fingers lifted the weight of her breast. Violet remained frozen, her
hands on the mattress shaking with her weight. Daniel drew his hand over her breast, fingers closing over her nipple, which was already tight.
Daniel withdrew from the nightdress. Violet wanted to grab his hand and put it back inside, but she stopped herself. She wasn’t certain what she should do, how to proceed. Daniel had been so tender with her in Marseille, but they’d never completed the act. She didn’t know what was expected, or whether Daniel would simply pin her down and have her. Perhaps that was the usual method.
“I don’t know what to do,” she said rigidly. “You have to tell me.”
Daniel’s smile beamed in the darkness. “I’ll do better than that, sweet.”
He reached up with both hands, unbuttoned the last of the nightgown, and pushed it from her shoulders. Cool air, only a little heated from the fire, touched her skin.
“I won’t rush you,” Daniel said. “We have all night.”
The nightgown’s sleeves bunched at Violet’s wrists, and her breasts hung free, unfettered. She’d never been bare in front of a man before. The red-bearded man hadn’t undressed her—he’d simply shoved up her skirts and ripped her drawers out of his way.
This is different, she told her terrified self. This is Daniel. This is what it is to be a man’s lover, not his payment.
Daniel slid both hands to her bare waist, caressing. He drew his touch up to her breasts again, both hands cupping her now. Violet took a sharp breath, but she made herself still, to feel.
What she felt was the heat of Daniel’s fingers, his strength as he lifted her breasts in his hands, his gentleness as he caressed them. Her back wanted to arch, to press her breasts into the cups of his palms. Violet resisted, not knowing what he wanted.
“Love.” Daniel lifted one hand to her face. “It’s all right. No one will come in.”
“I still don’t know what to do.” She couldn’t find the words to explain. Violet, who knew all about people and how to read every one of their emotions, had no experience here.
Another caress to her cheek. “This goes both ways, remember? If you’re feeling hungry, you feel hungry. I’m hungry for you.”