“I know.”
He closed the distance between them and silently invited her to sit on the floor. There, in the center of the empty ballroom. She folded her emerald silk skirts beneath her legs and rested the pistol in her lap. He sat across from her, propping his arm on one bent knee.
“Violet, the way I treated you was unforgivable. I’ve lived with the guilt of it ever since. I knew I was leaving. I didn’t feel I could make you any promises, but I couldn’t bring myself to depart without holding you, just once. I didn’t intend for it to go that far, but in the moment…” He rubbed his face. “Honestly, I suspect part of me wanted to ruin you. So you’d still be there for me when I returned. It doesn’t say much for my moral fibre, but it’s the truth.”
“That’s horrible.”
“I know.” He winced. “I don’t know how I can ask you to forgive me. I really was a shameless devil. And of all the ways I failed you…it wasn’t even good.”
“Well.” Her mouth twisted at the corner. “It wasn’t bad.”
He laughed a little, just to mitigate the sting to his pride. And then the memories of her—of that night—surged to the forefront of his mind, chasing out every other emotion. How she’d laid a hand to his cheek, just at the moment they’d joined. The sweetest gesture, layered atop the purest bliss.
Nudging aside the silk of her hem, he slid a single fingertip along her stockinged ankle. Beneath his touch, she felt so sleek, so sweet. In his misspent youth, Christian had skimmed his fingertips over many a silk stocking, but now… Almost a year had passed since he’d caressed anything this fine.
He was no confident seducer now. He was a coarse, humble farmhand with his hand under a well-bred lady’s skirt. In a house full of sleeping people who might wake at any moment. The pleasure was deliciously forbidden. The potent rush of arousal was like life itself. And the crisp rustle of her petticoat was the most arousing sound he’d ever heard.
Unable to resist, he slipped his hand up her calf. He pressed two fingertips to the hollow of her knee. A warm pulse fluttered beneath his touch.
“Christian…” Her voice was breathy. Needy.
He ought to leave, he told himself. He must flee before the militia descended, or it would all be over. His career—and perhaps his life, as well—depended on his making a swift exit.
But his soul needed this.
He eased closer, resting his brow on her shoulder. “Give me another chance, Violet. I have so little to offer you, and we have so little time. Let me give you pleasure, at least.” He swept his hand farther up her leg. “Let me show you how good it can be.”
As he caressed her thigh, Violet’s breath left her lungs in a long, languid sigh.
“Violet.” His lips grazed her throat.
Was this truly happening? Was she truly allowing it to happen, again?
As he kissed her neck, he nudged her chin upward. She let her head roll back in implicit surrender. While his hot tongue drew wicked patterns on her skin, she stared up at the ballroom’s Christmas splendor. The unlit chandelier branched high above. Lush red and green swags festooned the columns, and gold-foiled cut stars dangled from the ceiling beams.
He bent his head to her décolletage, nuzzling the exposed tops of her br**sts. He trailed little kisses along her neckline. All the while, his questing fingertips climbed the slope of her inner thigh. His touch, while rougher than before, still left her damp and yearning. Just as it had that first night.
“Let me show you,” he murmured. “There’s so much pleasure to be shared.”
He slid his hand between her legs.
Oh. Oh, so good.
Her ni**les drew to tight points as he stroked her there. She twisted a little, letting the sensitive tips chafe against the restrictive boundary of her corset. He was teasing her, and she teased herself. Making the ache so sweet, so good. Making everything worse.
“Yes,” he moaned, pushing aside the folds of her drawers. “This time, I’ll do right by you.”
His words gave her the jolt of reality she needed. He’d do right by her, he said. How, precisely? By using her body, then leaving in the morning?
“Stop.” She clamped her thighs together, trapping his fingers. “Stop.”
He kept right on kissing her cle**age. “Darling, I promise, this time I’ll make it good. Better than good. We can make bliss, between us. Greater joy than you’ve ever dreamed.”
He stretched his trapped fingers, striving to reach her intimate flesh.
She tightened the vise of her thighs. “Truly. Do you truly believe you can stumble in here tonight, rave nonsense in an obscure language, drug my protector, and—despite the wrong you did me last time—convince me to lie back and lift my skirts for you? Here on the floor, in the center of a ballroom? Do you really think I’m that foolish?”