A Marquess for Christmas (17 page)

“I
never thought of it that way.” Violet was surprised. This was a Kit she hadn’t
seen before. Philosophical, thoughtful, eloquent in a manner that had
absolutely nothing to do with flirtation. What other things would she discover
about him now that they were lovers?

Chapter Ten

He
watched her eyes go from gold to mossy green. Under the bright sun, he could
see the subtle shift in color on her face, from her eyes to her lashes that
were brown edged in black. He noted the tiny freckles that were barely visible
on her skin.

What
would it be like to take her out into a meadow and make love to her under the
midday sun? Where he could see every inch of her skin and its vibrant hues.

He
thought of a beautiful spot near a crumbling castle where he’d played as a boy.
It had a secluded but wide open space where the bailey had been. Now it was the
home of wild grass and ivy, which covered the walls. Outside the castle, one
could smell the heather, which swayed in the cool breeze.

Maybe
he could bring her there one day. Take her away from the confines of her
self-imposed obligations and show her how to take pleasure in the things people
took for granted.

“We
are only provided with one life. You should live yours to the fullest.”

“Perhaps
I do not know how,” she whispered.

“I
would be happy to teach you.” He pressed his lips to hers, lingering, teasing,
but never demanding. She opened to him like the rose to the sun and he realized
he’d never wanted a woman the way he wanted Violet.

In
the past few weeks, she’d become everything to him. What would he do when he
couldn’t laugh with her over eggs and toast in the morning or tease her into a
kiss at dinner? Who would stand over him until he finished all of his
vegetables?

And
who would sass him mercilessly until he bent her over and spanked every bit of
pleasure out of her?

Violet
eased out of the kiss, her breathing heavy. Her hands were curled at his
shoulders and her hair flowed free, soft and wild. If only she would wear her
hair loose all the time. He loved lacing his fingers through the strands and
feeling the silk caress him.

Her
eyes went from heavy lidded to wide open, like a shade being raised over a
window. “Now back to our wager.”

Just
when he thought he’d convinced her to lie abed with him. But she would not be
Violet if she let him have his way in everything.

“If
I win, you will stay abed and let me pleasure you for hours.” As he said the
words, he circled his finger around her breast. Soon he would have her naked
again, her body splayed for him like a Christmas feast. “If you win, I will let
you entertain me in the drawing room.” He let his voice trail off with
disinterest.

“Three
rounds of hazard.”

“Are
you sure you wouldn’t rather play piquet or
vingt
-et-un
?”

“Yes.”
She shot him a heated look. “Do not tell me that you think I cannot play?”

He
was skeptical. Men loved their dice, their cards; hell, they’d wager on the
length of their pricks if they’d had enough to drink. Most ladies of his
acquaintance liked social games, games they could play in pairs, like whist. Or
they liked games of strategy like
vingt
-et-un
. When
was the last time he’d seen a woman play hazard who wasn’t a barmaid, a
servant, or a lady of ill repute?

“I
think you are determined,” he said, evading her question.

“You
may as well hand over your purse now,” she said, kissing his forehead before
jumping out of the bed. When she stretched her arms high, his gaze was drawn to
her breasts as they rose to greet him.

“Whether
we play for pounds or…for more sensual delights, I have no doubt that I will
come out the victor.” He rose from the bed, naked and semi-hard from watching
her breasts stretch across the thin fabric of her shift.

“Would
you care to make the wager a little sweeter, sir?” She batted her lashes at
him.

“What
do you have in mind?”

“Since
you are so fond of…cravats and cords,” she paused, “I think the winner should
be able to tie up the loser to do as he or
she
pleases.”

Mmmm
. What a wicked proposition. Violet’s golden eyes were
liquid amber. More beautiful than Eve, even the serpent would have fallen under
her spell. Was it any wonder that he was falling in love with her?

In love with her body
, he corrected.

“You
have a bargain, my dear. Shall we seal it with a kiss?”

She
didn’t wait for him. Violet’s mouth melted his, searing as she drank from his
lips. He yielded, wanting to drown in her passion.

When
she released him, she fingered his bottom lip with her thumb. “When I win do
not forget that you agreed to the challenge.”

“I
would never weasel out of a bet. Either way, I consider this a win, angel.”

No
matter which way it went, he would be skin to skin with her, lost in the
pleasure of her touch. It was the easiest bargain he’d ever made.

“Good.”

“Very
good,” he said, licking and nipping her ear.

The
warm light of the sun streamed over them, caressing his back and arms and
dancing through her rich, thick hair. He slipped his fingers through the hair
by her nape and pulled gently. Violet’s lips fell open and he could see her
velvety tongue, which begged for him to seduce it.

At
her intake of breath, he smiled. He could swear that he heard her racing pulse.
Maybe the heartbeat he heard was his own.

“You
attempt to distract me,” she whispered.

“I
mean to keep you close by any means necessary.” Gripping her firm derrière, he
pulled her against his body. The light friction of her linen shift teased the
hair on his chest. Her soft thighs teased his, making him want to lift her legs
and wrap them around his waist.

“Ah-ah.
No sampling the goods before the bet is won.”

“Where
are the dice?” he whispered.

Her
gaze shot daggers at him. After giving her bottom a slow caress, he loosened
his grip and let her go free.

She
stood on her tiptoes and nipped his nose with her teeth. “I shall be back.”

With
a tart glance, she walked over to the dressing screen to grab one of his
dressing gowns. She walked to the door, not pausing as she slipped it on.

A
few minutes later, she returned with a black lacquered box with mother of pearl
flowers scrolling all around it. She gestured for him to come to the table and
sit with her.

When
she popped open the box, he saw a plain wooden cup, four wooden dice, and two
decks of cards. She took out the cup and dropped two dice inside.

“Shall
we roll for the main or do you want to choose?” he asked.

“A
lady always loves to have a choice.” She smiled. “I could be cordial and offer
you the first pick, but since considerate players rarely prosper, I shan’t feel
too poorly about it. I will play sevens.”

“Then
I will play six.”

“Do
you wish to go first?” She asked, shaking the cup. The mere sound of the dice
rolling around in the holder was enough to get his blood pumping and his fingers
tingling.

As
he grabbed the cup, the tips of his fingers stroked hers. He let them linger as
he eased the cup from her hand.

They
were both quiet as he shook the dice. His gaze lingered over the exposed skin
of her neck. The dressing gown was loose enough that he got a glimpse of her
cleavage, but no more. He looked forward to peeling the fabric off of her and
sliding his hands under her chemise.

Kit
turned over the cup and let the dice fall. Seven. If he’d chosen seven as his
main, he would have won, but now he had to roll again.

Do not pull a six. Do not pull a six
. He
slipped the dice back into the holder, saying his prayers for a win. A seven
would guarantee a win.

After
a strong shake of the cup, he threw the dice down. Two. He’d lost. Now it was
Violet’s turn.

Her
long, slender fingers took hold of the cup as her other hand grabbed the dice.
She pressed them to her lips, closing her eyes, then plopping each one into the
cup. Something about watching her mouth touch the die or perhaps the way she
lowered her lashes in a silent prayer made his mouth water and his cock harden.

She
loosed the dice. Eleven. How had she managed that? He had to blink a few times
to be sure of what he saw. But sure enough, one die read five and the other
six. Violet had won the first round.

“Should
I have checked that the dice weren’t loaded?”

“Do
not be a petulant loser.”

“Perhaps
your fingers are magic?” he asked, taking hold of her hand and kissing the tip
of each finger. He teethed her index finger. When he pulled her arm closer so
that he could kiss her wrist, she stopped him.

“Do
not attempt to distract me. You seek to throw off my guard so that you will
win.”

“What
I seek is another taste of your delectable skin.”

“Roll
the dice. Do you wish to keep your main?” she asked.

“I
think I shall switch to five,” he said before giving two fast shakes and
tossing. Six. Like it or not, he was stuck with it again. He stared at the
dice, wondering at the chances of that happening when he heard a tapping sound
on the table.

“Do
not give up so easily,” she said. “Though perhaps I should encourage you to
acquiesce now.”

He
rolled the dice. Eight. He neither won nor lost. The third time, he rolled a
twelve. Two sixes, but not the one he needed.

As
he picked up the dice and dropped them in the cup, he felt a firm pressure
against his thigh. He groaned and dropped the cup when he felt it move to his
groin.

A
glance at Violet’s face revealed nothing, though there was a twinkle in her
eye.

“God’s
blood woman, what are you doing?”

“Hmmm?”
She rested her head on her hand. “What do you mean?”

She
massaged his cock with her feet, pressing her heel into his scrotum. Gripping
the table, he closed his eyes, unable to move. How could he possibly
concentrate when she did such devilish things to him?

He
shot her a dark look. “Your foot.”

“My
what?”

“Your
foot is on my—oh, good God.” She pressed his cock into his belly, rubbing
the underside up and down with the ball of her foot.

“My
feet are cold.”

“Cheater.”

“Your
body is so warm…” The low, breathy voice was designed to do one
thing—make him utterly helpless to her seduction. By the saints, it was
working.

He
exhaled deeply, willing his self-control to return. Somehow, he managed to pry
her foot from his cock and set it down on the floor.

Another
cold foot climbed his leg and slipped over his knee and up his thigh.

“I’m
of a mind to tie you up
now
,” he
said.

“You
will have to wait until our game is done. Let me remind you that it is your
turn.”

He
threw down the dice and finally managed two threes. He got his six. But if she
won her set, they would have to keep playing until one or the other won this
round.

“My
turn!” As quick as you please, she pulled her foot away. He reached down and
caught it before it hit the ground. He lay it across his knee and began
kneading and stroking it.

“My
foot!”

“And?”
He continued his ministrations. This thumb circled the inside of her ankle.
“You said your foot was cold. I am warming it up for you.”

By
the look of her pursed lips, she was not happy to have the tables turned on
her. But he would not release her leg until she played her turn.

“I
assume you are playing sevens again?”

“
Yes
.” She spoke the word like a curse.

He
used his thumb to knead the arch of her foot. She closed her eyes, the cup
almost tipping the die over. But before they fell, she gave the cup another
shake and threw down the dice. Twelve.

“Bloody
murder!”

Kit
laughed. So much for him being the petulant loser. “One-to-one, angel. Shall we
play this round fair-and-square?”

Her
leg dropped down the ground, making a loud thump. “Fair-and-square.”

She
handed him the dice cup.

“Playing
six, since now that seems to be my lucky number.”

He
lifted the dice in his fingers and held it up to her lips to kiss for him.

“Now
you want me to give you luck so that you can best me?” She folded her arms over
her chest and turned her head away from the dice.

“Suit
yourself. I will win regardless.”

He
rolled the dice in his palm for a moment before throwing it into the cup and
tossing the play.

Nine.
Not what he was hoping for, but at least it wasn’t a three or eleven.

“You
will not make the nine you are hoping for,” she said. “Rolling that nine might
as well be digging for a needle in a bale of hay.”

His
chances were not so grave as that, but he rarely rolled nines, so he could not
count on a quick victory.

Eight.
Close, but still off the mark. He rolled again, this time getting two deuces.
He wasn’t out yet, but this might take a while.

Violet
tapped her fingers on the table.

“Patience
is a virtue.”

“Says
the man who is always chomping at the bit.”

The
next try yielded another four. Which would have been great if only four was the
chance. But no, he’d gotten nine and getting that roll was as good as squeezing
blood from a stone.

“Seeing
as how you need all the luck you can get, I shall kiss your dice for you.” He
held them up to her lips then threw them back into the cup. Unfortunately, luck
was not with him, for this last roll was a three. He was out unless she lost
her turn.