Chapter 18
Alexander was sobering rapidly as he followed Violet through the night-cloaked garden.
The scent of her soap was strong in his nostrils, over the damp, green smell of earth and leaves.
It was an intoxication all of its own and reminded him of how close her body was to his in the darkness.
Her hands were small, her skin soft and smooth.
They were perfect, free from the slightest blemish.
He knew that his own were marked by the hard work that had defined his life from childhood. Her fingers traced the old scars that covered his fingers as well as the backs of his hands.
“What are these?” she whispered.
“Sparks can scar when they land on the skin. If they are hot enough. Sometimes, when sweeping out a chimney, if the fire has not been properly doused beforehand, the brushes dislodge embers which fall. That is also the reason for the scars on my face.”
Violet’s breath caught audibly and she half turned to look at him in the darkness.
“That is simply awful,” she said, tears sounding in her voice.
“It is that,” Alexander admitted.
He could feel the warmth of her breath on his face. It made him aware of how his own must smell and he put his free hand in front of his face in an embarrassed attempt to disguise it.
Blast it. I should have thought that I would not be the best company after a night of drinking. She will think me a reprobate.
Her grip tightened on his hand and he felt her lips brush his cheek.
“I’m sorry. I should not have done that,” she said after a moment of silence.
“We’ve already done it and more besides,” Alexander said wryly.
“We have, but I do not wish you to think me a…that I make a habit of it,” Violet replied. “I am attracted to you. That much is clear to both of us, I think.”
“And I, you. But, I didnae want to have your name dragged through the mud, lass,” Alexander replied, earnestly.
“So, why turn up here drunk?” Violet demanded.
They had reached the door to the house and she rounded on him, fists on hips. He looked at her for a long moment, head tilted to one side, then laughed.
She’s a feisty one. Feart of nothin.’ Real fire in her belly.
“Are you laughing at me?” Violet said dangerously. “Perhaps I should shut this door in your face and scream bloody murder to wake the house?”
Alexander put up his hands. “I’m sorry Lady Violet. It is the drink. It has always been the demon I have fought the hardest.”
“Which begs the question, why risk your own reputation further by continuing to drink after you left your friends? I was given to understand that your reputation and standing in London was critical to the success of your Bill,” Violet said.
Alexander’s face darkened. She was right and he knew it.
It was weakness on his part. The same weakness that brought him to Violet’s London home.
The weakness that meant he could not rid himself of her beauty.
Or the scent of her. Or the taste of her.
There was a lamp lit inside the kitchen, just within the door.
It cast a dim glow across Violet’s features.
Alexander saw that her face was set, still unutterably beautiful but resolved.
It occurred to him that she might decide to withdraw her help, giving up on him as a lost cause.
After all, why should she help me if I am not willing to help myself?
“Weakness. And a desire to escape this trap,” he said honestly.
Violet stepped aside, still with a fixed, firm expression on her face. Alexander entered the house and she pointed to a chair beside a large kitchen table.
“I will prepare coffee and something to eat. I believe it is good for sobering up.”
“Aye, that sounds just the thing. Thank you,” Alexander said.
He chose a seat that meant he could watch Violet as she began to move about the kitchen. It quickly became clear that she did not know her way around it or have more than a vague idea of how to achieve the two tasks she had set for herself. Alexander stood.
“Would you allow me?” he asked softly, fighting to keep himself upright and steady.
“I can manage,” Violet replied.
“Aye, I can see that. But, I’d like my coffee before the rest of the household is awake and wanting theirs,” Alexander replied with a grin.
He reached for a tin and sniffed at the contents. Violet had already looked inside and put it aside.
“This is coffee. It goes into a pot and sits on the top of the stove. Here.”
Alexander found the coffee pot and put some of the ground coffee into its base. He had already seen a pump in the yard outside, just beside the door.
“I know how to get water, thank you,” Violet said, taking a leather bucket from a hook on the wall and stepping outside to fill it.
Alexander lit the stove with a taper from the lamp.
“I am not used to doing these things for myself,” Violet said.
“And I’m not used to being waited on hand and foot,” Alexander replied. “Together we make a good team, do you not think?”
He smiled and, after a moment, Violet returned the smile. “It seems so,” she said shyly.
“Now, there is an urgent matter I must attend to,” Alexander said.
He took the bucket from the floor, where Violet had placed it to fill the coffee pot.
Stepping out into the yard, he unceremoniously upended it over his head.
Violet gave a gasp of surprise and then clamped her hand over her mouth, as though afraid of making too much noise.
Alexander tossed back his head, throwing water in a spray across the yard.
He ran a hand through his soaking beard and then through his hair before wiping his face on his sleeve.
“That feels better. I hope it will make me a more pleasant companion to be in a room with too.”
Violet laughed. “I hope so too. Now come inside before you catch your death. You can dry out in front of the stove.”
Alexander did as he was bid, moving to stand in front of the stove.
Violet left the room and came back with a large, rough towel.
She dropped it over his head and then briskly scrubbed with the towel.
He laughed, taken by surprise, turning to face her.
Violet seemed to have acted without conscious intent.
As their eyes met, hers went wide and she froze, hands still in contact with Alexander’s head through the towel.
“I’m sorry. I should have left it for you to dry your own hair. That was an imposition,” she said.
“You’re just looking out for me, lass. Since I’ve been so poor at looking out for myself.”
She lowered her hands, but slowly. Alexander pulled the towel from his head and tossed it aside.
Her eyes were astonishingly beautiful. In the soft light from the lamp, they were cast in shadows, inviting and mysterious.
But as she moved her head, they caught the light, becoming expressive and limpid.
He took her hands in his, pressing them together and softly raising them to his lips.
In response, Violet stepped closer, her movement awkward and stiff, as though she fought her instincts.
She turned her hands in his and pressed her palms against his chest. Then she moved them slowly up, fingertips digging in slightly as though to touch him more deeply.
Alexander’s instinct was to dip his head and kiss her inviting lips.
He stopped himself, suddenly unsure. His actions thus far had been driven by instinct, primarily the instinctive need to be close to this fascinating and beautiful creature.
And that instinct could have turned her against him.
Violet looked up at him, uncertainty written across her own features. Her lips were parted and he could see the color rising in her cheeks, her chest beginning to rise and fall faster to match the beating of her heart.
“This is foolish,” she said, softly.
“Aye, it is,” Alexander replied.
Violet lifted herself to tiptoes and brushed her lips against his.
The last vestiges of drunkenness fled Alexander’s body.
Suddenly his senses were alight. The feel of warm lips against his own, made cold by the water he had just doused himself with.
Her body felt fragile against his as his arms went around her.
Before he had even thought of what he was doing, Alexander lifted Violet from her feet.
She gasped in surprise and then giggled.
Alexander felt her lips curve into a smile without breaking contact with his own.
He deposited her on the kitchen table, as he did so trapping his hands beneath her bottom.
Violet squealed and squirmed as she felt it.
Driven by lustful mischief, Alexander squeezed with both hands.
She almost leaped from the table but then pressed herself against him while clamping both of her hands to his.
Neither heard the kitchen door opening but both heard the sudden exclamation of the woman who had entered the kitchen.