Chapter Twenty
It had been four days since he’d seen her.
Rhys took a long drag on his hand-rolled cigar and blankly stared at the crowded gaming room.
In order to distract himself from going to her house, he had instead been coming to the Blue Angel to help out.
Not that they needed him; Matthew ran the place with amazing acumen.
But hauling in crates of wine and barrels of beer had worked off some of the restless energy that Rhys carried with him.
Violet’s husband was dead. He celebrated that the bastard had met his end.
But now that she was free of him, there would be no need for her to continue to work with Rhys investigating her father-in-law.
There was no reason for her to interact with Rhys at all.
Of course, this was how it should be. A lady of quality like Violet shouldn’t be friends with riffraff like him.
And furthermore, she had been far too tempting with her big brown eyes and her tousled blonde locks as she sat on his bed and petted his dog.
He had taken his vow of celibacy eight years ago when his mother died.
He never wanted to be reckless like so many young men and spread diseases like the one that had claimed his mother’s life.
Years of earning her living as a prostitute had finally killed her.
His mother had raised him on her own in the best way she had been afforded.
But her choices in life had caught up with her in the end.
Before she died, she had made him promise to quit the gang and make something more of himself. She had always wanted more for him.
He had already been doing jobs for Lord Fleming and the crown, but he hadn’t been able to tell his mother about his new career path.
Hadn’t fathomed where it would take him.
Heartbroken and grieving, he had decided that he would not jeopardize his plans for the future by becoming entangled with any woman.
His mother had let her obsession with the Duke of Hartwick leave her heartbroken for years.
He wanted no part of how weak love made you.
Instead, when the opportunity arose, he had taken his friends and left the gang.
Matthew and Zeke had each shared similar aspirations to be something more than what they were.
He blew out a stream of smoke. A roar of excitement rose from around the big hazard table.
They had done well for themselves. He was proud of the success of the Angel, the auction house, and the factory.
His mother would have been proud too. Rhys pulled out his watch.
It was one in the morning, so perhaps time to go home.
He couldn’t avoid that empty bed forever.
Even he needed to sleep sometimes. Turning, he nodded to Val, who stood behind the bar. “Tell Matthew that I’m heading home.”
“Sure thing, boss.” Val poured two glasses of wine and headed down to serve patrons at the other end of the long bar.
When Rhys arrived home, he was surprised to not see the dog lying on the hearth in the kitchen.
In the few weeks he’d had the beast, he had gotten used to his shadow.
Where was the animal? Rhys made his way upstairs.
At the end of the hall, a faint light spilled from around the crack in his bedroom door.
He bent and pulled his knife from his boot.
Where was the damned dog? If whoever was in his house had hurt it, they would be sorry.
He pushed the door open silently, ready to confront the trespassers. But what he found was the dog stretched out on the carpet in front of the fire, with Violet lying half on top of it, her arm encircling its furry neck. She appeared to be asleep.
Rhys slid his knife back into its sheath and crossed to them. The mastiff wagged its tail in greeting, thumping it loudly against the rug. Violet’s eyes opened, and she stared up at him with bleary eyes. He crouched down in front of them. “Hey, sugar.”
“You said I could escape if I needed to.”
“Anytime.”
Yawning, she sat up. She gave the dog a scratch behind the ears, then her gaze rose to him. “I am so tired of being alone.”
“You don’t have to be alone.” Rhys took her hands and lifted her to her feet. He led her to the chair, sat, and pulled her onto his lap, where she rested her head on his shoulder.
“The funeral was yesterday. Not that I was allowed to attend in my delicate condition. But today I was home all day in that big house, alone with my thoughts and my regrets.”
“What do you have to regret?” He tucked a piece of her hair behind her ear, its silky texture as tempting as any drug.
“I realized that I let Stuart pull me away from all my friends. Even my family complained that they never saw me. I don’t know how to bridge the gap with Lucy and Addy. Will they forgive me for disappearing? For not keeping in touch?”
“Your friends were worried about you. Lucy told me specifically, and she asked me to watch out for you. She will be happy to see you again. I promise.”
Violet twisted in his lap so they faced each other better, setting every nerve ending in his body on fire. She studied him. Was she assessing his sincerity? Then she surprised him by lightly tracing one finger down the length of his scar. “How did you get this?” she asked.
“Knife fight.”
“How old were you?”
“Thirteen. My mother was so angry with me, yelling about my stupid choices, even as she carefully sewed me up.” He lifted the damaged side of his lip. “She was not talented with a needle; it never quite healed properly.”
Violet’s finger then continued across his lip. Her touch was soft, her eyes softer as they examined his face. Her other hand rose to cup the opposite cheek. “Doesn’t take away from your handsome face.”
Lost in the rich, mahogany depths of her gaze, he let her hold him captive.
She brushed her thumb across his bottom lip this time. “Can I…?” She bent and pressed her lips against his in a featherlight kiss that stole his breath. “I have wondered what that would feel like. Was that out of bounds?”
Rhys slid a hand to grip the nape of her neck and bring her lips back to his.
He kissed her the way he’d wanted to from the first moment they had locked eyes as he pulled that gold band from behind her ear.
Her lovely smile, stretching wide and laughing with delight, had captivated him then, just as her soft lips did now.
Languidly, he took his time, sipping at her plump bottom lip, increasing the pressure of his kiss until she melted against him, gripping the lapels of his jacket. God, she was so sweet.
He cupped the side of her head and tipped it so he could place kisses along her delicate jaw, moving slowly across and up to her cheek.
Her eyes closed with a sigh of pleasure that raced across his cheek.
He moved to the other side of her face, placing kisses up to her temple, breathing in her scent.
Her skin was so soft. He trailed his mouth down the column of her neck and couldn’t resist flicking his tongue out to steal a taste.
Violet let out a small sigh. “I didn’t know it could be like this. So soft, and still my heart is racing.”
He moved back to capture her lips, running his tongue across the seam, asking for permission to plunder.
She parted for him, and he swept inside to tease her tongue.
Changing the angle of their kiss, he sank into the heat of her mouth.
She moved her hands up to weave her fingers into his hair and pressed him against the back of the chair.
Suddenly, he was the one losing his breath as she took control, tangling her tongue with his, holding his head still for her sweet assault.
He banded his arms around her, tugging her tighter against him.
Lost to the heat and softness of her, he reveled in each soft noise she made against his lips.
Every breathy exhale. She was magnificent.
His carefully constructed rules crumbled as he ran his hands up her sides and cupped one luscious breast. She was going to utterly ruin him.
Violet moaned against his mouth. “Touch me.”
He brushed a thumb across and found the tight bud of her nipple. “You aren’t wearing a corset?” he groaned.
“They don’t fit anymore,” she murmured against his mouth. “New clothes being made…”
“What are you wearing under this dress?” This ugly black mourning dress.
She leaned back. “Um, nothing.”
Rhys banged his head against the back of the chair and stared up at the ceiling. Nothing. Holy shit. He sucked in a deep breath. Then he slowly slid his hands from her breasts, down her waist to grip her hips as he tried to regain some control over his lust-addled brain.
She had no idea how she affected him.
She was barely widowed.
Dammit, he was celibate for reasons, even though those reasons eluded him in this moment.
Violet squirmed in his arms. When he looked back at her face, her eyes were downcast and her cheeks aflame with color. “I should get off of you. I know I am becoming so fat. Stuart made sure to point it out.”
“Oh, sugar, that’s not—You are perfect. Every curve of your luscious body has me hard as a rock. I’m just trying to get myself under control.”
Her mouth opened and then closed like a fish out of water. “I didn’t know men could control it. I thought…well, I assumed…it was a base instinct to rut.”
“Baby, no. Did he never take care with you?”
She shook her head, her bottom lip trapped between her teeth. “No, he always bent me over the bed and rutted until he planted his seed.”
“Fucking fool.”
Violet’s eyes widened.
He cupped her face with both hands and kissed her softly. “You deserved to be worshiped. Every inch of you. But it is not my place to do so, and it certainly isn’t why you came here tonight. So even though you have thoroughly seduced me—”
“I have?” Her voice was so soft with wonder that it killed him to stand and set her on her feet.
He squeezed her shoulders. “Yes, but I do have self-control, and I think I should take you home.”
Violet shook her head. “Please don’t make me go home.”
“Violet…”
Then her stomach rumbled loudly. Violet laid a hand over the swell of her belly, and a small laugh escaped. “Sorry.”
Rhys frowned. “When is the last time you ate something?”
She shrugged. “This morning. Supper tonight was fish stew. The smell hit me, and I just couldn’t eat it.”
“Why didn’t you ask for something else?”
“I didn’t want to be any trouble. I mean, I chose the menu for this week. Normally, I like cod but…” Her stomach let out another loud rumble. “Oh, dear, that’s embarrassing.”
Who was taking care of her? Shouldn’t her family be watching over her now that her husband was dead? Rhys gripped her hand and led her from the room.
“Rhys, where are we going?”
“I’m going to feed you,” he said.
Once they were in the kitchen, he pushed her gently into a chair at the table.
Then he went to the cupboard and began to look for something to feed her that wouldn’t involve actual cooking.
He had no skill with preparing food, not like Matthew.
Damn it, Matthew would be able to figure out what to feed a pregnant woman in the middle of the night.
Rhys stared at the shelves lined with dry goods.
The only thing that looked edible was a tin of crackers.
Perhaps he should take her to the Angel.
Yes, that’s exactly it. Kill two birds with one stone.
Get her out of his house and make sure she ate a decent dinner.
“Change of plan. We are going out. I know where we can get a hot meal.”
“At one in the morning?”
“Yes. Come. We can take my gig.” He held out a hand.
Violet stood. “But I must be so disheveled. My hair…”
“You look beautiful. Besides, no one in the kitchen at the Blue Angel will care one way or the other how you look.” Rhys kissed her knuckles. “Trust me? I was there earlier, and I believe they were serving beef bourguignon tonight.”
Violet’s stomach rumbled loudly, and he couldn’t hold back a laugh as her cheeks flamed pink. “All right. The baby wants beef stew, I guess. But I cannot be seen. Promise?”
“You have my word. Sneaking into places is my particular talent.”