A Marquess for Christmas (18 page)

“Try
not to look so defeated,” she said, stroking his hand with her palm. Then she
licked the corner of her lips. “Save that for when I have you shackled to the
bed.”

“You
little tart!”

“I
am a little sweet and a little sour. But as much as you like to punish me for
my wayward tongue, I think you rather enjoy it.”

That
he did. There was no merriment in pushing down a weak flower. He liked a
confident woman.

“Roll.”

She
fingered the dice for a moment before tossing her hand. Seven. How in the name
of Beelzebub did she do that? She’d managed to roll a winning hand on the first
roll. Twice.

“Mine!”
she yelled excitedly. “You are mine to do with as I please.”

He
kissed her hand, conceding the match. Then he got up from the table and walked
over to the bed.

“Where
would you like me, madam?”

“I’d
like you to go and see about taking a bath. Then meet me downstairs.”

“I
thought you would like to truss me up and torture me.”

She
winked. “I did raise the stakes on this wager, but my initial bet still stands.
Gather your necessities and I will have the servants draw up a bath for you. I
shall take one myself.”

In
three steps, he was behind her, slipping his arms around her waist. “We could
always take a bath together.”

“I
think we shall barely squeeze you into the copper tub as it is. Fitting us both
in would be a feat.”

He
tucked a lock of hair behind her ear and whispered. “You could sit on my lap.”

“I
am sure you would like that very much.” She blushed. “Particularly considering
my attempts to distract you into yielding the game. But we shall have plenty of
time for more leisurely pursuits this evening.”

“And
then you shall inflict your wicked will upon me?”

She
turned in his arms to kiss his cheek. “I have not yet decided. We never
specified
when
the prize should be
collected.”

His
mind churned at that thought. At any time, any place, she could ask him to
kneel or lie down and secure him to a bed, a door, an armoire, a staircase.
Though the staircase was unlikely, as Violet did not want to display her
depravity in front of the servants. She reserved it for him.

Which
only made him love her more.

There
was that word again. That feeling. Was that what this was? Did he
love
her?

He
lusted for her, dreamed about her, adored her passion and her sense of humor.
He even adored the part of her that always wanted to be practical and useful.
The part of her that hadn’t balked at cleaning his open wound or bathing a
complete stranger.

She
was the first and last thing on his mind every day. Hmmm.

He
turned her to him and kissed her, slipping his hands into the robe, which was
far too masculine for her sumptuous curves. She deserved delicate muslins and
beautiful brocades. Laces and gold threads would complement the fine jewels he
could give her.

He’d
start with emeralds, which would bring out the green in her hazel eyes. Next,
he would try rubies and garnets to match the flush in her skin when she slipped
back into her proper demeanor. No, it would match the fire in her, the heat
that she revealed only to him. And he would bring her diamonds. Diamonds so
that everyone who looked at her would know how much she was treasured.

As
he lifted his face and looked into hers, he realized he was besotted. When he’d
lost his memory, he’d lost his mind, too. He never allowed himself to become
too attached in his relationships. He had fun, he devoted himself to his
lovers’ pleasure, but when he needed to move on, he never gave a second glance.

Would
he still feel this way in a month or two when he was gone? Perhaps the
intensity of his feelings would subside once he no longer spent each day in her
company. He must feel this way because he was too accustomed to her presence.

* * * *

Violet
sank into the hot water, praying that the day never ended. Waking up with Kit
reminded her of how safe she felt enveloped in his arms. She’d slept more
soundly than she had in months.

When
she thought of last night, how he’d bound and blinded her, rendering her
completely helpless to his assault, she flushed. His assertiveness and
creativity surprised her. He made every moment feel vibrant and alive, like
racing a horse at full speed.

Even
now, her heart beat faster at the thought of him.

Violet
dipped her towel into the water and steamed her face. She’d sent Miriam away so
that she could have a moment alone. The truth was, she didn’t want the girl to
see the bruises from Kit’s intense lovemaking.

“Lord
help me,” she whispered. She would let that man chain her to a dungeon wall if
it meant he would kiss and stroke her from head to toe. He never pushed her
farther than she could go, but she was afraid of the dark need within her. The
need for him to strip her down bare, to divest her of the walls of her control,
until she was a mass of dough ready to be kneaded by his deft fingers.

What
kind of woman let a man tie her up and tickle her until she screamed? What kind
of woman wanted a man to spank her until her bottom was red and chafed? And
what kind of man would do that to his lover?

She
should run. But she did not dare. With Kit, she felt alive. There was no
pretense. No compulsion to be the dutiful widow, no need to see to every minute
detail of the household, no obligation to be anything but herself.

How
could she run away from that freedom? Because in his arms, she yielded her
body, but her soul was free.

Chapter Eleven

Nine days later

As
Violet took a sip of steaming hot tea, Kit leaned across the desk. The smell of
bacon and eggs permeated her study. She reached for a scone, but he stole it
from her fingers.

“I
want to build a snowman.”

“What?”

“It’s
a crisp morning, and the snow is fresh and thick outside. Let us go and build a
snowman.”

“It
is cold outside, and yesterday, you got dizzy when you tried to mount your
horse. I think we should stay indoors.”

She
took a bite of her eggs and noticed that he’d hardly touched his plate. For a
man who ate about as much as a boar, this was a rarity.

“I
have been indoors for far too long, I want to enjoy the snow. I want to play
with
you
in the snow.”

She
filched the half-eaten scone from his fingers. “If you think I am going to let
you lift up my skirts and pummel me into the icy ground, you are wrong. It is
bad enough when you tried to fondle me in the stables. What if
Hinkley
had seen you?”

He
lowered his voice. “As much as I would love to have you naked under me and
torture your nipples with snow and chips of ice, that is not what I meant.”

“Then
what did you mean?”

“When
I was a boy, we would go out into the field and make scarecrows in the autumn
and snowmen in the winter.” Sometimes he would throw apples at the scarecrows
until they fell over, which often resulted in Bella screaming at him for
wasting their hard work.

“Are
you remembering more of your past?” Violet asked after swallowing the last bite
of the scone.

“Not
really,” Kit lied. “I mean I remember playing in the snow and getting toys at
Christmastide and I recall picking apples in the autumn, but how does that help
me to recover my identity?”

“It
is a start. Every bit you remember tells you something about yourself. It may
not be your name, but it solidifies your sense of who you are.”

She
was so earnest. He should save them both the pain by telling her the truth, but
he couldn’t bring himself to do it. Every day he spent with her was a day he
was free. There were no obligations, no lectures from Bella and Freddy, nothing
he had to do but treasure every moment with Violet.

“So
what do you say? Shall we go and build a snowman?”

“I
have never done such a thing before.”

“Then
I will teach you.”

After
they finished breakfast, Violet went to change into her wool stockings and Kit
asked Mrs. Norris for a scarf and greatcoat. His was still stained from the
shooting, but the divergent color was only noticeable up close. He’d have to
order a new coat once he got to Oakfield.

Violet
came down in a green pelisse and matching hat. She wore thick gloves and a
yellow scarf. When she took the last step, he grabbed her waist and kissed her.

Her
eyes went wide. “Kit!”

“I
wanted to thank you for agreeing to go out today,” he said.
 
He adjusted her cap, which had gone
askew, grabbed her hand and led her outside.

They
trekked a few yards until he saw a spot where the snow was especially thick. In
his pockets, he had a few buttons, a pipe, and an old red cap.

“Gather
up the snow into a pile,” he instructed.

Violet
crouched down and used her arms to sweep the snow into a pile.

“Now,
see if you can shape the pile into a large round ball.”

As
she worked, he gathered his own pile of show to add to hers. They packed the
snow as tightly as possible, running their hands around the circumference and
shaping the powder and slush as best they could.

Once
they’d gotten a semi-round mound, he went to work on the next layer. As he
scooped and packed the snow into a smaller ball, he couldn’t remember the last
time he’d had this much fun doing something so simple.

“My
ball is melting, Kit.”

“Keep
packing it with ice, as the snow melts, it will harden together. Even if our
snowman only lasts for a day, it will be alright. We can always try again
tomorrow!”

Violet
laughed. “That is, if you can drag me out again tomorrow.”

“I
can think of a few enticements,” he said. “Perhaps it is time for a new wager.”
He pointed a finger at her. “Though you have not made good on the last one.”

Why
she hesitated, he did not know. Was she afraid to tie him up? Or did she have
some wicked plan that he had yet to discern?

She
did not respond to his accusation. Instead, she came over to him and looked at
his ball of snow. “Yours looks so much neater than mine.”

“I
have done this before. You merely need practice.”

“
Hmpf
.” She spun around and walked in the other direction.
He saw her bend down to start a new ball.

“We
will need arms and a head, so why don’t you try a smaller ball?”

He
carried his ball over to the larger one. It was too small, but he would build
more upon it. Glancing back at Violet, he saw her furrowed brow and tried not
to chuckle. She took this far too seriously.

He
stomped through the snow to where she stood. “It is not about doing it
perfectly. Just have fun with it,” he said, cupping a handful of snow and
shaping it.

Before
she knew what he was about, he threw the snowball at her chest.

“You
devil!”

She
bent down and grabbed a hunk of snow and crushed it in her palm before throwing
it at him.

They
volleyed snow missiles at one another until Kit threw one that hit Violet so
hard that she fell onto her derrière. Kit plopped down into the snow beside her
and wrapped her into his arms.

“Very
good, angel.”

“But
I fell.”

“The
point of this is to have fun. You were having fun. I consider that a success.”

Sometimes
Violet was so serious, so intent on doing everything exactly right, on taking
care of every little detail that she missed out on the little joys of life. He
hoped to remedy that before he left.

“Now,
shall we finish our snowman?” he asked.

“Yes.”

It
took an hour to get it put together and he was more of a blob than a proper
snowman, but they managed it.

Kit
put in four small buttons for the mouth, two big buttons for the eyes and stuck
the pipe into his face. He remembered the red wool cap and put it on.

“We
need a nose,” Violet said as they admired their handiwork. “And the balls for
the arms didn’t quite work.”

“Let
me see what I can find,” Kit said. He looked around, trying to think of
something. He found two branches that were suitable for arms and plunged them
into the side of the melting snowman.

“Now
what of the nose?” he asked.

Violet
bit the corner of her lip. “
Hmmmm
…” She wrapped her
arm around Kit’s waist and leaned her head on his shoulder.

Such
a simple thing, but it was the first time she’d done something like that
outside of the bedchamber. He gripped her waist and pressed her close, wanting
the moment to last forever.

But
she slipped out of his arms and turned toward him with twinkling eyes and a big
smile. “I have an idea!”

She
took his hand and ran forward, pulling him along after her. She dug into the
basket of food they’d brought with them. Violet thrust her hand in and pulled
out a large walnut, still in its shell.

“What
do you think?” she asked.

“I
think it will work.”

They
ran back to their little ice man and Kit bowed and gestured for Violet to put
on the finishing touch. She wiggled the walnut into the empty spot and
surprised Kit by throwing her arms around him and giving him a big kiss on the
mouth.

Though
he loved her hungry, devouring kisses, he liked this spontaneous and
affectionate side of her, too. The kiss was warm rather than hot, but he
enjoyed it just the same.

“Shall
we see if there are any more apples left on the trees?” he asked, not wanting
to go inside yet.

“Yes,
though most of the trees are barren, we might find a few left.”

She
looped her arm in his and ran forward toward a copse of trees and Kit tried to
keep pace with her.