Page 66 of Only a Mistress Will Do

His arch tone made her jerk her head up. The hot gaze he turned on her made her bones turn to water.

He stooped and snared the last page. When he rose, they stood face to face. He handed her the music, brushing his finger along hers.

A bolt of heat shot straight to her core, like an arrow to its mark. “Thank you, my lord.” In need of support, she stepped back and laid her hand on Dora’s shoulder. The chill of the girl’s skin, even through her gown, jerked Violet out of her trance. “Are you all right, Dora? You’re cold as ice.”

“Yes, I am fine,” she whispered. “I was just startled by your appearance, Lord Trevor.”

“We had hoped to surprise you, my lord,” Violet continued, still unsure if Dora was about to faint or not. “I am teaching your future bride to play the harp.”

“You are? That is indeed a surprise. And very thoughtful of you.” He turned a softened gaze on Dora. “The harp is my favorite instrument.”

“I know.” Dora glanced from Violet to Tris. “Violet told me.”

“Then I am most pleased and flattered you have undertaken the instrument, my dear. I will look forward eagerly to hearing you play again.” His gaze lingered on her pale face, a wistfulness appearing in his eyes. “I am therefore most sorry I must interrupt your lesson, but I am sent to fetch you. Your mother awaits you in her sitting room. Your aunt, the Duchess of Ostroda, has arrived.”

“Aunt Mimi is here? All the way from Prussia? That is a surprise.” Some of the color had returned to Dora’s face. She stood lost in thought, then dipped a curtsey. “If you will excuse me, my lord. I must go greet her.”

“Of course. I shall see you at dinner.” Tris grasped her hand, lifted and kissed it. “Until then.”

With one last piercing look at Tris, she left, the tap tap of her shoes in the corridor escalating as they faded.

Tris swung around to face Violet, the love shining in his face heartbreaking.

Unable to bear it, she clutched the sheets of music and fled to the small wooden cabinet where they were stored. She took her time, rearranging the pages until all were facing up. The movements were mechanical; she listened with all her might to him—the rustle of his coat against his body, the soft puff of his breath in the still air behind her. She bent and thrust the sheets inside, all the while seeing his face before her.

It had been weeks since she’d seen him, the morning he’d met with her and Lord Manning. Not weeks but a lifetime. Her heart filled with sadness. Soon she would see him much more seldom, and eventually not at all. Still, she could not make herself turn and look at him. She stood slowly, straightening her spine inch by inch, all the while willing him to leave because she didn’t know how long she could restrain herself.

“Violet.”

Her back prickled with gooseflesh. He stood so close she could feel his warm breath on her nape. So close that if she turned around she would be in his arms. She wanted that. Wanted it more than she wanted air to breathe. Yet he was not hers to have.

He slid his hands over her shoulders, the big, warm, strong hands she remembered so very well. Hands that had explored her body and given her the utmost pleasure. Tugging gently, he turned her toward him.

Dreading each inch that brought her to face him, she closed her eyes. She couldn’t bear seeing his desire for her again. The scent of his cologne, spicy bergamot steeped in citrus, filled her head. She breathed him in, like coming home.

He cradled her head, guiding it until he found her lips, then plunging his tongue home.

An exquisite hunger swept through her body, as though she’d been starving and suddenly been given a feast. She slid her arms around his neck, pressing her eager body along his, seeking to touch every inch she could. The world stopped and they stood frozen in this one blessed moment in time.

He came to his senses first, pulling away, though he still cupped her face. “Oh, Violet. I do love you. I have missed you so much, my love.”

Tears started from her eyes. Her throat threatened to close completely as her heart beat painfully in her breast. She stepped back, staring into the beautiful sapphire eyes and shook her head, flinging drops to and fro. “We shouldn’t have done that.”

“I don’t give a fiddler’s damn about what we should and should not do.” He crushed her to his chest. “I cannot do this, Violet. I cannot marry Dora and condemn us to a life of misery.”

She struggled to push away from him, though she was loath to do so. Her body sought his warmth like steel to a magnet. He was her true North. “You would condemn her too then?” She wiped at her streaming eyes with the back of her hand, then groped in her pocket for a handkerchief. “You cannot abandon her, Tris. She needs you. Needs to leave this house before it kills her spirit.”

“I know her circumstances. Believe me, I know.” He grabbed her shoulders and gave her comforting squeeze. “Her father is a right bastard to her. Her brother too. I’ve seen the way they treat her. It is an impossible situation.” He dropped his hands and stared into her eyes with an intensity that scared her. “But I cannot rescue you both, Violet. She’s managed to cope with her family’s disdain thus far. Certainly Downing will arrange another marriage for her.” He leaned his forehead against hers. “I cannot lose you, Violet. I cannot.”

“Tris.” It cost every ounce of her resolve to step back from him. “You must marry her, not only for honor, but for her sake.” She clutched the handkerchief, already damp with tears. “And for my sake you must never see me again.”

“Violet!”

“No, my dear.” She swallowed hard, but met his eyes unflinchingly. “My dearest love, if you love me, you must swear you will not seek me out again. To do so will rekindle this unbearable pain that even now rips at my breast.”

“My love.” He ran his hand around the back of his neck where the tendons had popped up in thick, rigid lines. With a groan he stepped toward her, arms outstretched.

She threw her hands up to fend him off. “Tris, no. Do not touch me. I swear to you my heart will break if you do.” A lie, of course. Her heart already lay in a thousand throbbing pieces, so painful she could scarcely draw breath. But what else could she do to preserve his honor and Dora’s salvation?