That devastating smirk pulled at his lips. “Afraid she’ll be scandalized?”
“I’m afraid she’ll ask to join in.”
His face broke into a dazzling smile as he laughed, rubbing the back of his neck as a flush climbed his cheeks. “I ken ye want to ruin yer reputation, but that may be a step too far.” He stepped closer and his proximity pushed the air from her lungs. “Will ye come to my room? I can make it worth yer while.”
She barked a laugh, then pressed her hands to her mouth to halt it. A glance over her shoulder revealed that Aunt Margaret was busy feeling Mr. Marks’s biceps and missed the unladylike display. “And how will you do that?”
“Was it three or four times that ye came last night?”
She had her own tricks up her muslin sleeve. “Three by your efforts, two more by mine.”
“Two?”
She shrugged. “I was lonely after you returned me to my room.”
He dropped his head back and moaned, then stepped closer to her, his voice dripping over her like warm honey. “Christ, Violet. Tell me ye’ll see me tonight.”
“Everyone will be at the house. I can’t go to your room without being seen.”
“Then we’ll go elsewhere,” he said. “I can find an inn nearby—”
“I can’t wait that long.”
He stepped even closer, his grin wicked. How she’d come to adore that smile. “Perhaps I can take ye into that changing room. Lift yer skirts…”
“Mmm.” She brushed an invisible piece of lint from his lapel, then laid her hand there. His heart thundered beneath her palm. “You’d just take me there? What if we were discovered?”
“I wouldnae be able to stop.” She shuddered at the intensity, the lust dripping from his words. “I’d keep taking ye like ye wanted until I came, screaming yer name—”
“Violet!” Aunt Margaret rapped her cane against the doorframe, making them jump apart. Mr. Marks, looking as though he’d survived a tempest, stood by her side, barely visible behind a mound of wrapped parcels. “Barney is waiting, and his hair gets all crinkly in the rain.”
“Violet is coming,” Callum called back, leaning on the last word, and she stifled the urge to laugh outright.
How dare he befun?
“Lady St. James,” Callum said, taking the woman’s hand as she exited the shop beneath Barney’s umbrella, “would it be a bother for yer carriage to take me to the Abbey? I used an estate carriage to get into town, but I’m afraid it’s already left.”
Violet’s jaw dropped. That wretch. How was she to survive being so near him after those delightfully filthy words, with her aunt watching every move they made?
“Of course,” Aunt Margaret replied, waiting for the coachman to open the door and shooing Violet inside, then motioning for Callum to follow her. When he hesitated, shetsked. “You take up far more room than I do. While I wouldn’t mind you sitting on my lap, my niece might be opposed.”
“Aunt Margaret—”
“Hush, darling, and move over. I’m getting cold.”
Callum gave her a resigned shrug and stepped into the carriage, the entire conveyance shifting with his weight. He landed on the bench across from her, and his eyes flicked to her parted lips.
I’d keep taking ye like ye wanted…
Awareness lit up her insides, but she knitted her hands together on her lap, anticipating the awkward and frustrating ride back to Claremont Abbey.
“Oh my!” Margaret called from outside the carriage. “Is that a tea shop across the way? You never see those anymore!”
Violet’s eyes shot to her aunt. The woman gave her a wide-eyed, innocent smile.
“I’m freezing from standing here in the rain and would love a good cup of Darjeeling. Barney, be a dear and take me over for a cup. Sir Coachman—” she called over Violet’s protestations, “drop these two at the manor and return to pick me up after.” She slammed the door with remarkable force for an octogenarian. “Toodle-oo!” she called with a wave of her fingers as the carriage set off with a lurch through the driving rain.
Chapter 24
