Page 64 of Again, Scoundrel

She had a dim memory of him sitting quietly beside her and pulling them out, one by one. The recollection made her smile. And then more images from the evening rushed back to her. The feel of his arms and chest as he carried her. The tender kiss on her forehead she only hazily recalled, as if it were some kind of long-lost, half-remembered dream. The bath. All that had come after the bath. She shivered from the remembrance of that. She really hadn’t known it was possible, that kind of physical pleasure.

And I didn’t once think of James.

Since that long-ago kiss with the boy at the ball the night her brother died, she imagined that physicality and pleasure and guilt would always be intertwined in her mind. But she was learning with Alistair that they weren’t. The interlude in Esmee’s apartment had been her first inkling, but tonight, being here with him, had proven she’d been wrong for years.

“I’m going to ravish you again if you keep standing there with that dreamy look on your face.”

She glanced up, startled. Alistair was awake and sitting up in bed, examining her. Her body thrilled at the thought of ravishment. Her insides throbbed and her feet took a step toward him, as they always did.

No.

She stayed herself and meant it this time.

“I have to get back,” Violet said.

Alistair grinned a sleepy, contented grin at her. “I wrote to your cousin and said you were exhausted and resting after your day of charitable labor but duly chaperoned by the respectable widow, Esmee Callendar. She will see you home after your rest.”

He gave her a look that was both lazy and lascivious. “I’ll take care of you, love. Always. Now come back to bed.”

Violet wanted to do just that. Badly. His sleepy, husky voice and boyish grin were so appealing. And his eyes were again heavy-lidded with desire. She wanted him, as she had from the very first moment she’d laid eyes on him.

“Alistair,” Violet said.

“Hm?”

He lay back against the pillows, his broad chest inviting her to snuggle against it. His nipples hardened slightly in the cool early morning air, waiting to be sucked.

“Did I hear you say—” Violet paused. She couldn’t get the words out; they felt like marbles in her mouth. “Did I hear you say that—”

“That I wanted to ravish you again? Yes. I definitely said that.”

“No.” She blushed. “No, not that. Did you say that you wanted to… that we should—”

“Spit it out, love.”

Violet took a deep breath. “You said we’d marry.”

His eyebrow quirked up. “Yes, I said that, too.”

“That,” Violet said, shifting her weight nervously between her feet. “Why did you say that?”

Alistair stiffened, his spine straight and tense. Some other look Violet didn’t recognize swamped the desire that had just been in his eyes.

“Because,” he said in a voice that sounded suddenly more like it belonged to a ship’s captain than a lover. “I’ve had you and it’s my duty. I would never leave you to suffer compromise alone.”

Violet felt his words like a right hook to her stomach.

“You’ve never cared for duty before. Why now?”

“Violet, be reasonable. What did you think would happen after tonight? I asked you if you knew what this meant.”

“I am reasonable. You are being unreasonable! I thought you were asking if I understood we were to… copulate.”

The eyebrow arched again, a tic she suddenly found very irritating.

“If we were to copulate?” he asked, the sneer in his voice at her choice of words unmistakable.

“Don’t mock me,” she said. “Just take me home.”