Chapter Twenty-Six
Rhys opened the back door to his house and let the dog trot inside first. The warmth of the kitchen hit him square in the chest. Louisa turned from where she had been wiping down the table. “Evening.”
“Evening, Louisa. Aren’t you usually home by now?” He shrugged out of his jacket and hung it on the hook by the door.
“Yes, sir.” She folded the towel in her hands neatly. “Your lady is here. I fed her already, and we had a nice chat.”
“She’s here?”
“Yes, sir. And I’ll be going home now that yer back.” She gave the dog a friendly pat on the head when it bumped its head against her leg. “I left your dinner over by the stove, as usual.”
“Thanks, Louisa. I can’t imagine what she is doing here,” he murmured.
He had been out walking around with the dog, trying to clear his head.
But fuck if the taste of her sweet pussy didn’t still linger on his tongue.
He had stayed out of her bedroom this week only by sheer force of will and a thin thread of control.
He wanted to go slow with their relationship, to take care with her. She was still fragile and so precious.
He thought a lot about them while on his nightly walks with the dog.
The truth was, he didn’t know how to proceed with Violet Sommerset.
He didn’t want to just be her lover. But what future could a lady like her have with someone like him?
The Duke of Lavensham wasn’t likely going to let his heir be raised by gutter trash.
He sighed. The best thing would be to back away from Violet. As hard as it would be to stay away now, it would be impossible to give her up if he ever made love to her properly. Once he’d been inside her, he would be lost.
“It sure does look nice around here this week. I’ve finally got furniture to dust.” Louisa tilted her head and studied him.
“Sorry about the extra work,” he said.
“No, I approve. Mayhap it’s time for you to set aside this lone-wolf shite and get busy living.” She tossed her cloak around her shoulders. “I think your mother would approve.”
Rhys’s lips twitched with a wry smile as his housekeeper walked out the door. Damn it, she was right. Vow or not, his mother would have never wanted him to be alone for his whole life. He ran a hand through his hair. “Come on, dog. Let’s go find your favorite person.”
The dog cocked one ear in question. Rhys pushed open the kitchen door, and the dog’s other ear rose as the discordant sounds of piano keys being hit filtered down the hallway.
The dog trotted down to the front room that Violet was now calling his music room.
When Rhys entered, the lady was down on her haunches, petting the dog.
She looked up at him as he came in, and her smile stopped him in his tracks.
Would he ever get used to having all that sunshine aimed in his direction?
“Louisa said she fed you.”
“Good evening to you too. Yes, I have been fed and watered.” She rose gracefully to her feet.
Her black silk dress fell in tailored perfection around her ankles.
Peeking out from all that black were a pair of yellow satin slippers.
She must have seen him staring at her feet because she tapped one, then the other.
“It is my little show of rebellion. A tiny bit of color.”
He stepped forward to cup her cheek. “Violet, what are you doing here?”
Her smile disappeared.
Rhys bit back a curse. What was the matter with him? “I am happy you’re here. I just wasn’t expecting to see you in my house. Although, come to think of it, maybe I shouldn’t be surprised.” He brushed a thumb across her cheek.
Her smile returned, but this time it was mischievous. She gripped his wrist and nuzzled his hand. “Play something for me?”
He nodded. Violet settled onto the chaise as he crossed to the piano.
The room was still largely empty, but Zeke had created a cozy area with a large rug, the piano at one corner, and the chaise placed nearby on the long side of the rug.
The dog settled next to Violet, with his big head resting dutifully on the seat, ready for head scratches.
Rhys sat down on the bench. What should he play? He decided on something soft and melodic.
“That’s beautiful. Did your mother teach you to play?”
He chuckled. “No, sugar. We didn’t have a piano.”
Her cheeks flamed. “Of course, sorry. That was insensitive.”
He shrugged. “My mother did the best she could. She always looked out for me. When I was small, we lived in the village of Andover. But the money she had been left by a relative ran out when I was six years old, and she was forced to come back to London for work.” His fingers found the keys with ease.
Playing the piano had long been a solace for him on late nights when he couldn’t sleep.
Regret was a bitch, and he had done plenty of bad things.
“Zeke found this piano in a shipment that came into the auction house four years ago. He knew I wanted one. I have been taking lessons from a lady who lives in one of my flats in exchange for a break on the rent.”
Violet lay back and closed her eyes. “You play exceptionally well. I have no musical talent at all. My younger sisters play, but our music tutor gave up on me.”
“Yes, I heard you plunking on the keys as I came down the hall.”
She giggled. “I couldn’t resist touching. The ivory is so smooth. The inlay pattern along the top is exquisite.” The dog whined, and she reached out a hand to scratch behind its ears. “You know, you really should give him a name. It must be bad luck not to have a name.”
Rhys finished up the last stanza with a flourish. Then he twisted to face them. “All right. What name do you propose?”
She sat up. “Really? I thought you would argue about it.” She put her hands on the mastiff’s head, one on each side. “Let’s see. What shall your name be, boy? You are a big, powerful dog but have the soul of a poet.”
Rhys shook his head. “The soul of a poet? He is needlessly aggressive to strangers and testy, even with the hand that feeds him. Namely, me.”
“Yes, a poet. Look at these big brown eyes. Soulful. How about Bernard? That is a noble name.”
“You want me to call him Bernard? Naw, he’s a street dog. He needs a tough name. Like Thor or Goliath.”
Violet wrinkled her nose. “How about Maximus? It’s a heroic name. What do you think?” she asked the dog. “Is Maximus a good, strong name?” The dog simply panted and looked up at her adoringly.
“Too fancy, but I could call him Max, I suppose.”
“Max. Yes, that’s a fine name. I dub thee Maximus the Brave of Brook Street.” She kissed the top of the dog’s head. “But you shall be known henceforth as Max.”
The dog let out a happy bark and licked her chin.
Violet wiped away the drool with a laugh. “I think he approves.”
Rhys’s breath caught in his chest. He had never seen her expression so clear and joyful.
Granted, the two months that he had known her had been rough.
Actually, her whole marriage had been hell.
But this smile reminded him of the girl he’d met in Lucy’s pretty drawing room months before she’d married Sommerset.
The girl who had laughed at his stupid magic trick.
The radiance of her smile pulled him across the room to sit next to her. “Max, go lie down.”
The dog gave one last longing look at Violet and went to lie down across the rug by the piano bench. Rhys took one of Violet’s hands. “You look happy.”
Her brow furrowed. “I deserve happiness.”
“Of course you do.” He kissed her forehead. She smelled so good, light and citrusy.
Violet pulled back to pin him with her gaze. “You have been avoiding me.”
“What do you mean? We have seen each other every day this week.”
“You have not once come through my window to wake me up and ravish me properly.” Hurt reflected in the dark depths of her eyes.
Christ, he was such a fool. He bent and pressed his forehead to hers and told her the truth. “I like having you here in my house, picking out my furniture, naming my dog. More than I should.”
“That’s good because I like being here in your house, in your arms.” She slid hers around him. “You deserve happiness too,” she whispered fiercely.
“I’m not so sure about that, sugar,” he admitted, voicing what was always clanging about in his head.
She shook her head. Then Violet kissed him.
The kiss was demanding, insistent, and he sank into the heat of her mouth.
Her hands traveled up his back, and she hooked them on his shoulders, guiding him on top of her as she leaned back.
He braced his arms against the backrest so he wouldn’t crush her, but he didn’t give up her mouth.
Fuck, she was so delicious. Sweet and tangy, he lost himself in her kiss.
She fisted his shirt as her tongue explored his mouth, dueling with his.
She pulled his shirt free from his trousers to slide her hands underneath. The feel of her fingertips exploring his skin made him groan with pleasure. “Violet, are you sure? You are so delicate, beautiful. I don’t want to break you,” he said softly next to her ear.
His hair was yanked as she pulled his head up, forcing him to look into her eyes. They blazed with heat, but he wasn’t sure if it was desire or anger. Turns out, it was a bit of both.
“I am not delicate. I have been broken, and I have glued myself back together many times over the past year. What happened to what you said about my strength, my fierce determination? Or was that all simply to placate me?”
“No.” He shook his head. “I meant those things I said. You have been through so much. I don’t want to hurt you too.”
“You can’t have it both ways, Rhys. You can’t admire me for my strength and want to put me on a shelf like a porcelain doll.
I am a real woman with desires.” Her hand slid from his hair to grasp his chin.
“I never thought I would feel the kind of passion that you have awoken in me. Are you going to ravish me?”