Stolen Petals (5 page)

Claude stumbled behind her as they surged toward the hallway. The noise died down and she opened her eyes. Her sight adjusted and she ran for the door, dragging Claude along behind her.

Edward stepped into view.

Viola jerked her head back, trying to signal for him to take on the guard. He raised his hand, revealing a copper ornament inside and pressed down on the button. Edward pulled a mask to his face as a hiss echoed through the hall and plumes of smoke began pouring out from his hand.

She surged forward, realizing the betrayal too late. Her stomach dropped and her throat tightened. The smoke billowed her way and she kept blinking, each one heavier than the next. Her eyes closed and she careened forward, losing her grip on Claude.

***

Viola's head pounded worse than any hangover she'd braved and back in her rough and tumble days, she'd seen plenty. But then again, knockout gas would do that. She sat upright, adjusting to her surroundings. Dim ambiance lighting and peach curtains matched the cream walls. One of the serving girls sat by her side. Jessandra?

"You're awake," she said, smoothing her skirts. "You've been out all night."

"What happened?" Viola asked, needing to know yet dreading to find out.

"The Fox kidnapped Sir Brownetree. Apparently there was a bounty on his head. Killed all the guards too. What were you doing up there?" she asked, curiosity burning in her eyes.

"When I went to socialize by the buffet, Claude asked for a minute of my time. He said he had an opportunity for the bar." Viola ran a hand through her hair. "I hoped for another ball to bartend, not any of this." Sometimes she wished lying didn't come so naturally for her.

Jessandra patted her shoulder. "And your waste of space cousin left early. Probably ducked out to drink the rest of our stock." A slight raising of her voice gave her away. The girl knew. Or if she didn't, she had suspicions.

"Figures he would." Viola leaned forward, hunched over. "Last time I do a favor for the family."

Chapter Seven

It had been three weeks from the ball and still the tightness in her chest hadn't unfurled. Another mark, another scar, and another lesson to add to the colorful tapestry of her life. Viola sank into her seat, glad to be home after a long night at the bar.

She sat at the table, thumbing over the envelope.

From Edward Van Clef. The Fox burned her and now wouldn't leave her alone. Either the contents were some story to spin or rubbing her face in defeat. Neither option was savory. She tossed the letter the same route as the others: into the fireplace. The amber flames licked it up, crumbling the message to ash before her eyes.

She tried another spoonful of soup but it tasted stale on her tongue and sat sourly in her stomach. Viola shouldn't have given him a chance. Should've kept her distance. He'd fooled her right as she'd begun to soften toward him. Men couldn't be truste
d
—
she'd learned those lessons back at the Green Fairy's Den. They'd go to any length and spin any lie to get a woman in bed.

Sipping on brandy helped. The burn of alcohol was what she wanted right now, a perfect salve for shattered pride. At least the debacle hadn't cost clientele. Her story held and everyone blamed the Fox.

The melodic chimes of her ringing doorbell startled her out of her thoughts. Viola threw a shawl around her shoulders since a chemise and leggings, while comfortable, weren't proper attire for seeing visitors. At this late hour though, she didn't trust the intent of anyone coming to her door. She palmed several poison needles and slipped her boot dagger in place.

Marching to the door, she threw it open.

Edward Van Clef, man of the hour. He took up the doorframe with his broad shoulders and height, but more than that, his presence was suffocating. Those hazel eyes stared back at her without the teasing or playfulness.

Viola slammed the door, but his foot darted in the way before it shut.

"Leave," her voice frosted over.

"I'd like to talk," he started, but then sighed. "Here." He tossed something through the air. A small card dropped onto the floor. "Check that. I'll be waiting out here."

Seeing him again, the anger and shame flushed through her with an exquisite pain. For a moment, Viola didn't move and stood there trembling. Gathering her composure, she crouched to pick up the plastic card. Looked like a holder for credits. Driven by curiosity, she swiped it into the slot on her keypad. A balance came up on the holo-screen. The numbers stared back at her as she gaped, not quite computing.

Half. It was exactly half of the bounty. She popped the bubble of hope rising in her chest. Her share didn't mean anything, but he'd piqued her curiosity enough to deserve an explanation.

Slowly, she opened the door, very aware she let a lion in to prowl. "What's this?" she asked, exerting every ounce of control to keep her voice level.

"Your share, as promised." He faced her, all the joking and laughter drained from his face.

Viola sucked in a deep breath. The bitter part of her wanted to fling it in his face, but letting him know she'd been hurt gave him control. "Thank you for bringing it by. Pleasure doing business with you." She couldn't quite force a smile. His gaze darkened.

She grabbed the knob to close the door, but he strolled right on in.

"You're not shutting me out," he snapped, pacing around her house like a wild animal. Wherever the teasing, mischievous man she'd met had gone, he wasn't here now.

"Our business is done. Would you please leave?" Viola clung to her politeness, letting her heart freeze over.

"I've sent at least ten letters explaining myself and trying to give you your share. No response."

Viola sucked in a sharp breath. "Perhaps you'd employ better business practices if you didn't double cross your partners." His anger and her share of the bounty didn’t add up.

"Is that what you think I did?" His voice was low, unreadable. "I may not have the best reputation, but do you think so little of me?"

His words stung deeper than anticipated, from the earnest way his eyes pierced her to the raw hurt in his voice. Her composure cracked.

"What do you expect?" she shot back. "You've stolen my marks before and then want to work together? You spend half the time trying to bed me and then when I
believed
," her voice cracked, "that you showed up to help me, you knock me out. I wake up to hear you claimed the bounty, leaving me the fool."

Edward stood there, struck silent as Viola battled with the burn of tears forming in her eyes. Not for him and not over him, she wouldn't. The space between them tensed like a war zone as if one wrong move would ignite into violence. A tear slipped past and she let out a hiss of a curse.

He'd seen it. Edward closed the gap between them and threw his arms around her. He was so, so solid and emanated a fierce heat which made her want to believe the best of him. His embrace warmed her in ways that sent her heart and head to war.

"You misunderstood." He pulled her in tight, murmuring into her hair. "A ball like the Brownetrees', your reputation and livelihood's at risk, whereas I had nothing to lose. If it slipped that Viola Embrees was a bounty hunter, you'd lose everything. I thought I'd take the heat for the both of us."

The weight of the truth hung heavy on her shoulders. "Then perhaps my judgment was hasty."

"We're both too independent, too used to doing things on our own." He wiped the escaped tear with his thumb and lifted her face. "So let me start with some honest communication. Viola Embrees, I approached you for duplicitous reasons. Not because I needed help, but because you had caught my interest." The wickedness returned to his eyes, the spark of mischief that promised an adventure. Viola couldn't tear herself away. All the excuses and all her defenses melted, ensnared by his gaze.

"You were the woman who could rival me in any way. Although as a lady your reputation isn't quite as tarnished as mine." He winked, the humor melting away the hurt.

Viola let out a sharp laugh. "Sweetheart, you're talking to a woman who used to work the Green Fairy Den."

His eyes widened, less than surprising, since any man setting foot into Shantytown knew the bordellos and lushieries. She set her teeth, waiting for disgust, or worse, the sick fascination, like she was some mechanized dildo. Immediately she regretted her brash disclosure.

Instead, he let out a sigh of relief.

Her brows narrowed together and her heart beat a little faster. "Did you not hear me?"

He cupped his hands around her cheeks. "I knew someone real hid under all the manners, airs, and propriety. I caught glimpses of it, but then you'd snap back to façade. Darling, I don't want some shell of a lady or a twit obsessed with superficiality. I've seen too much of life to want that. You, Viola Embrees, you are gloriously real."

His words filtered through her like adrenaline and his palms touching her skin sent shocks of warmth. She didn't dare hope and didn't dare dream someone would accept her after that card hit the table. But he wasn't leaving. The wonde
r
—
the zeal filling his eyes as he stared at her made her want to hope again. Tension stretched between them with their faces mere inches apart. His mouth parted and the scent of pine and autumn leaves surrounded him like a musk.

For years, men had stolen her kisses. They'd taken more and more of her over time until she had to hide behind titles, behind a persona. After being an object for so long, her trust shattered. She took in a deep, steadying breath. Edward was maddening, confusing, and an irritating flirt. He brought everything to the surface, all the parts of her she'd tried to bury years ago. Yet she wanted him. For the first time she felt the stirrings of a shared desire in her chest.

Twining her hands around his neck, she soaked in the heat from his gaze and the way he studied her and saw past her barriers. His lips, inches from hers, were so close his breath was soft and hot on her skin. She looked into his eyes, giving him a genuine smile. The poor boy wouldn't know what hit him.

She stood on her toes and pressed her lips to his. The response sparked at once, immediate, and explosive. Edward wrapped his arms around her waist and drank her in until her head spun.

Her lips tingled and the thrill mounting inside her chest pushed for more and more. Like that first kiss they'd shared, the scent of pine intoxicated her and the sensation of his rough lips against hers sent shivers through her like a current. She pulled away to toy with him, making him dart in for her. At first they kissed like the tide crashed, as if fearing they'd never resurface. Viola slowed down the tempo, planting feather-light kisses on his lips that made him growl.

In turn, he diverted attention, nipping at her earlobe and sucking at the soft skin of her neck. With every shock of adrenaline rushing her, she squeezed her thighs tighter.

His coarse lips on hers, the thrill of his longer hair tickling her shoulders, and twining with her own, all of it plunged her deeper into the moment. His crisp scent overwhelmed her, sharpening her desire. She glanced at the door and then the steps.

"Want to take this upstairs?" she asked, her voice thick and throaty.

Without a response, he swept her off her feet, surprising strength in those lithe muscles, and took off for the steps. A laugh slipped past her lips as they raced up the stairs. Midway up, she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him again. He stopped where he stood, full focus on returning the kiss. She slid out of his arms and grabbed his hand, guiding him the rest of the way up the stairs.

The second they reached the corridor, he grabbed her by the shoulders and trapped her against the wall, his kisses long and intense. Each one drove her closer and closer to the edge, but she wasn't the Brass Violet for nothing. Viola excelled at control.

She fought back just as valiantly, tugging his hair and licking the length of his neck to watch him shudder. He responded to every touch, no matter how slight, and she took full enjoyment from her canvas, licking and sucking on every spare surface.

Her chemise slipped, exposing her bare shoulder. His eyes drank the open skin greedily. A wicked grin curved her lips as she reached up, snapping open the first couple buttons of his shirt. His hand slipped to the small of her back, his restraint surprising her.

Viola pressed her body to his and kissed him, feeling the hardness of his erection. She ached to have him inside and wanted him to throw her against the wall and plow into her. No. Restraint. She'd make sure Edward Van Clef
never
forgot her.

Her hands brushed his thighs in soft, brief touches making him stiffen. Viola's lips ducked lower and she undid another couple buttons. And lower.

He shrugged his shirt off and she licked from navel to sternum, watching as he succumbed to her touch. His erection threatened to break through the fabric of his pants, but still, he left her in control.

She slipped a finger into his waistband and tugged him down. They crashed onto the floor in a tangle of limbs with his bare chest pressed against her, inflaming her skin. Her hard nipples brushed the feeble fabric of her chemise and she ached to tear it off. He loomed over her, all defined muscle and sharp angles, every inch of him exuding masculinity.

He slipped a hand in past her leggings and down her thighs, bringing the fabric along to her ankles. She kicked off the leggings, three seconds from ditching her panties too. He leaned down and began to kiss her, slower this time, a mere two layers of fabric separating them.

His fingers found her chemise and button by button, he began to strip it off her. She upped the ante, snapping the clasp of his pants free. Her hands slipped beneath the waistband.

As soon as her fingers brushed along his length, he let out a gasp. Inch by inch, she pulled at his pants, sliding them down with her leg as she licked the side of his neck. Her fingers would find their way back in gentle strokes, but never forceful, always teasing.

His breaths came quick and heavy in her ear. He rolled upright, tugging her onto his lap. His erection pressed, hot and hard against her already drenched panties. That thrill coursed through her, sending her mind reeling. His fingers fumbled with the remaining buttons as he nearly tore the chemise from her. The second her breasts hit open air, her nipples tightened, hard and tender. He leaned down to twine her lips in a kiss, one that intensified when he slipped his tongue in. Her breasts crushed against his firm chest and his hardness brushed across her, sending a thrill so strong it crumbled her control.

She leaned into another kiss, her tongue flicking into his mouth as she ground into him. When she slid down his body, his hard length rubbed fever hot over her skin. Her breasts pressed against his length and she slipped it through the center, enjoying the feel of his erection pumping across her skin with each thrust from him. His nails dug into the carpeting and a moan slipped past his throat. He bucked forward, pinning her to the ground.

Edward slipped his fingers past her soaking panties and started slow, rubbing her clit, sending those thrills through her body, and making her insides ache for him. He teased, his pace slow and his fingers steady, with the nips at her ears intensifying the pleasure.

Finally, he plunged two fingers inside and her thighs tensed. He worked them in, steady and building momentum, driving into her again, again, again. She writhed under his touch, her need growing each time. His hands were steady, and the strokes smooth as the pleasure numbed her mind. Tightness grew, until it was painful—so close to bursting.