“Shh, Violet,” he whispered, and the accidental brush of his lips over the shell of her ear sent a shiver down her spine. “I have ye.”
The strain in her neck released so quickly her forehead fell against his chest. The intimacy between them may not be real, but she would allow herself to trust Callum in this, for as long as they were playing this game. She lifted her head to thank him, and her lips brushed the stubbled underside of his chin.
A low groan rumbled in his chest, its vibrations rattling through her. His hands had tensed, pulling her even closer to him. There was no ignoring the breadth of solid muscle beneath her palms, the power in his thighs pressed against hers. Nor could she deny the heft of his arousal rubbing against her belly.
When he looked down, his pupils had devoured the stormy gray irises. Her heart thundered in time with the drowning rain, and for a moment she forgot about whoever was on the other side of the curtain, the other guests, her family and their countless expectations. All she could think about was this man and the need that pulsed between her thighs, its wicked fingers coiling up and through her body until every part of her throbbed and ached with desire.
His lips parted, and when his tongue darted out to wet them, her knees weakened, but he was holding her up, so close, so safe, that shehadto kiss him, needed to know if his mouth was as soft as it looked, if he tasted like peppermint or smoke or—
The door swung open with a squeal and snapped shut. “Finally,” a woman exhaled, and Violet’s eyes jerked wide.
Bridget, she mouthed, and his hands tensed.
“You were too fast. I had to guess where you’d gone.”
Callum’s head dropped. “Valebrook,” he whispered.
“Besides,” the earl continued, his voice low and playful. “If you hadn’t scheduled every bloody second of this party, there would be no need for me to play games to find and seduce my wife.”
Bridget giggled, then moaned, and Callum stiffened beneath her hands as the rustle of clothing and sounds of pleasure cut through the thrum of the rain. He leaned close to her ear again. “Do we make noise, too?”
All the lust that flooded her veins had vaporized into panic the moment she heard Valebrook grunt. Listening to a man who was a father figure engage in intimacies with his wife was a circle of hell she had no desire to experience, and she whipped her head back and forth in misery. As though he understood how disturbed she was, Callum covered her ears with his hands and gave her a pitying look.
Then the creaking started; based on the origin of the noise that got past Callum’s hands, the earl and countess had moved their activity to the spindly settee, and before long—
CRRRRACK! THUD!
“Fuck!” Valebrook yelled, and Bridget burst into laughter. Callum dropped his palms from Violet’s ears and clapped his palm over his mouth.
Their hostess’ laughter sounded like she was close to tears. “You were certainly being vigorous, husband.”
Callum looked at Violet with wide, horrified eyes, and Violet pressed a fist to her lips to avoid chortling herself.
“Button up your trousers, dear. You found me, so let’s go find some otherguests.”
“And sturdier furniture.”
Callum’s head tilted quizzically, and Violet shook hers. If they made themselves known now, her godfather and his wife would be humiliated. Perhaps she’d underestimated her ability to take a seemingly simple task and make a complete hash of it.
A moment later, the door closed behind the giggling countess and grumbling earl, and Callum and Violet sighed with relief. He pushed the curtain aside and held it in place for her to exit their hiding spot.
“Well…” He rubbed the back of his neck. The tips of his ears were bright pink, and the detail made something shift and warm in her chest. “That was…”
“Apocalyptic?” she supplied.
“I was going to say traumatizing, but, aye. I’m sorry it didnae work.”
She shrugged, ignoring how his sympathy made the warmth in her chest spread, rivulets of comfort swimming in her veins. “There will be other opportunities, I suppose.”
Oh lord, other opportunities. Other chances to be close to him,touchinghim. But she had a plan, and a future to secure. A reputation to ruin.
She squared her shoulders and met his gaze. “We were unlucky. I’m certain tonight nothing will interrupt us.”
Chapter 12
Callum shivered and stompedhis feet, regretting his decision to wait indefinitely in the garden for Violet to sneak away from the after-dinner drinks and card games. He’d whispered the suggestion to her as the guests separated after the pudding dish, and, at the time, he’d eagerly anticipated a break from socializing.
After the incessant noise of the meal, he relished the peace of the secluded space surrounded by tall hedgerows and fragrant viburnum, snowdrops and hellebores pushing their way from the chilled earth to reach for the weak Yorkshire sun. A window from the ballroom bathed the garden in electric light, but the gnarled limbs of an ash tree curled in front of the glass, diffusing the glow. The wooden arch covering a wrought-iron bench would be enchanting in several weeks when the roses bloomed, but now sat in sinister stagnation, the twisted vines studded with thorns between budding leaves.
