“I’m sorry,” Alexander said, releasing her.
He began to fumble at the straps and catches that secured the metal to his body. Violet began to help him, lifting away the breastplate, then the gorget around his neck, and the mantle that lay across his shoulders. The mail he wore beneath was heavy and smelled strongly of steel and oil. Finally, it was gone. Beneath it, Alexander wore a thick woolen vest, marked with rust from the mail shirt. Violet pushed her hands beneath it and found his bare flesh. She smiled against his lips as he kissed her again. As her fingers had touched him over his ribs, his muscles had tightened as though he were ticklish. It pleased her to know that her touch could produce such an effect.
She drew his lower lip between her own, sucking on it as though it were a succulent piece of fruit. She heard and felt his intakeof breath at that, knew the pleasure he was feeling. That intake of breath repeated when she bit down on his lip. When he tried to lift his head to look at her, she hung on, holding him in place. Then she pressed her hungry mouth to his, exploring with her tongue and feeling his pushing back, seeking the same entry.
And her mind wandered to another kind of entry, became aware of the powerful hardness that she could feel against her loins. His hands were grasping her buttocks and she squealed as she felt his skin against hers. That was an area that had been rent apart by her cruel captors, seeking to expose her intimately. Now, Alexander exploited that. He ripped the holes wider and then grasped her bare flesh, squeezing and kneading. She whispered his name, then moaned his name, pushing the squirming with her hips against his.
There was still armor about his waist, though not covering his manhood. With every thrust of her hips though, her soft flesh was pressed against unyielding steel. Just as her most intimate area was pushed against unyielding maleness. It made her thrust harder against him, desiring that entry, that hardness. He responded by gasping her name, clutching her tighter, tearing with more ferocity at the clothes that separated her from him. Abruptly, he grabbed her hands, holding them above her head in just one of his. With the other, he grasped the front of her dress and tore it away. She cried out, throwing her head back and spreading her legs as wide as her kneeling position would allow.
She wanted to appear open and wanton before him, showing him the reward for his heroism. He pushed her down, pinning her hands to the floor above her head, holding her wristspainfully tight. Once more his lips found hers but only for a moment. They traveled to her neck, and now he bit her, producing a squeal of delighted surprise. He kissed the hollow of her throat and then his mouth enveloped one of her naked breasts. First one, then the other. He drew her nipples into erect points as she writhed in desire and passion. Alexander’s body pressed down upon her as his mouth worked upon her breasts.
Lifting her legs she felt his manhood against her loins once more, combined with the terrible pressure of his remaining armor. His head lifted and he looked into her eyes, pausing for a moment. Then came the moment she had wanted more than anything. The moment she had been waiting and yearning for. They became one, time and space ceasing to exist. Her existence became one of pleasure and deliciously pleasurable pain. Hard muscle and soft flesh. Passionate kisses and tender touches. Thrusting, colliding bodies.
Violet woke with a start. Someone was knocking on the door of the lodge.
“Alexander!” she cried out.
“Lady Violet?” came the voice of a young man.
She recognized it as belonging to one of the household servants.
“Is that you in there, my lady? His Lordship sent me out to find you. Are you well?”
The dream fell away from her. Awareness of her surroundings returned to her. She saw the book on the floor beside her, open at the last page she had read. She closed it and sat up.
“I am quite well. I fell asleep. Will you tell His Lordship that I am returning to the house?”
“At once Your Ladyship,” the servant said.
Violet took a shuddering breath, fancying that she could still feel the armor pressing into her hips. Still feel the wonderful moment of…
I must keep a firm hold of myself. I have agreed to help Alexander and he to help me. That is all there must be between us. That…kiss was just a lapse in focus for both of us.
Chapter 11
Alexander received a hand-delivered letter from Violet the next day. He had barely slept, poring over books from his library on the subject of etiquette and the structure of English noble society. He wanted to make the most of the time she was giving to him, to be able to deliver an impressive speech in the Lords the next day. A note from Sebastian had followed, however, stating that he had been able to get another motion onto the agenda before the reading of the amendments. It would give them breathing room to the tune of another week.
That had Alexander punching the air within the austere surroundings of his library, barefoot as was his preference with books strewn about him. It had been at that moment that his eyes strayed to the light pouring in through the window. Clocks had been something he did not have much experience with, nor a huge amount of confidence in deciphering. He, therefore, did without them in his house, though he knew his servants kept them.
Alexander had learned to judge the time by the sun while living as an urchin on the streets of Glasgow. When the shadow of Nelson’s Monument was pointing to the west, it was morning, and when it reached towards the cathedral, it was about midday. There were other signs but that was always a good one if you happened to be about the Green. In London, he was not so familiar with the landmarks, but in his own house, he could tell what time of day it was by the light coming through the windows.
Now, he leaped to his feet, eyes darting to the letter from Violet which still lay on the table. And its promised appointment at midday. Now. Almost as though it was on cue, he heard the rapping of the door knocker. It echoed through the sparsely furnished house, reverberating from bare wooden floors and plastered walls. There was little in his Brompton Row house that would soften the sound.
Looking around frantically for his shoes and socks, he remembered they had been discarded in the sitting room.
What kind of person needs so many blasted rooms to live in! This house is like a maze!
He wrenched open the door of the library and made to dash across the hallway, beyond to the sitting room. But at that point, the front door was opened by the single groom he employed. Lady Violet looked in and smiled broadly when she saw him. He stopped where he was, feeling like a naughty schoolboy. The thought briefly occurred to wonder if his shirt was properly tucked in or not.
“Good afternoon, Your Grace,” Violet said politely.
The servant stepped aside to allow her entry.
“I think I have given permission for my given name to be used,” Alexander said, smiling and trying to hide his embarrassment behind bravado.
Violet’s eyes flicked to the servant and back so quickly that Alexander wondered if he had even seen the movement or merely imagined it.
“I think it would be proper to observe the usual forms in public,” Violet said.
