VIOLET DAWN

Chapter 13

I don't want your money.

The words repeated themselves in his mind as Patrick watched the woman sitting quietly across from of him. It appalled him that he had made such a mistake. He had assumed, that being a circus performer, Violet would jump at the chance of a pampered life.

And he was prepared to pamper her. He would buy her dresses and jewels, take her to wherever she might desire and put her up in a nice residence somewhere conveniently close to his own house. Patrick preferred not to keep a mistress, but he knew without question that having Violet once would not quench his desire for her, so a longer term arrangement was the only possible option. Yes, he had been prepared to give her anything she wanted as long as she made herself available to him for as long as he wanted, but she had refused.

Or had she? Violet was coming with him. She knew what was going to happen between them, had even admitted her own desire. She hadn't refused him, she had only refused what he wanted to give her.  Damn it, she was a confounding woman.

Patrick watched Violet as she sat across from him, her beautiful eyes seeming to take in the lights of London glittering beyond the carriage window. He frowned. What would it be like, to be forever in the darkness? How had she gone blind? Had she ever been able to see?

He watched Violet's face intently and noticed her nostrils twitch ever so slightly.

For the first time since the beginning of their acquaintance, Patrick thought to wonder how Violet never seemed to bump into anything. And how was it that she walked with confidence and speed? Wouldn't she need to hold out her hands to feel the things around her? There was so much he didn't understand about her, so much he wanted to find out. 

The carriage rolled to a stop. A footman rushed to open the door and Patrick stepped out, turning to help Violet. She put her gloved hand in his looking the part of a perfect lady.

"You have a cherry tree." The pleasure in her voice as she made the rather unexpected remark had Patrick glancing around. 

The cherry tree at the edge of the short path that led to his town house was cold and barren. Concentrating on his senses, Patrick focused on the scents that surrounded the bark as he walked Violet to the door. The faintest smell of cherries clung to the gnarled branches.

She couldn't possibly smell what he could barely discern. "How did you know?"

Violet stopped and turned her face towards him; little wisps of black hair blew across her olive skin as she seemed to look straight at him.

"I can smell it, just like I can smell you."

Patrick found himself stepping closer, his desire to touch her growing to an unbearable pitch. He drew in her scent and smiled with pleasure. She was wet.

"And I can smell you." His fingers trailed over the soft skin of her neck and he was gratified when she didn't move away.

"Welcome my lord." His house keepers disapproving tones had Patrick turning about. Her hands folded across her large girth, Mrs Devon had her bushy brows raised in disapproval. He heard Violet's soft groan of embarrassment and couldn't help grinning. The forward woman who had no qualms about accompanying him to his residence for a bout of sex was disturbed by one middle-aged woman's  censure.

"Thank you Mrs. Devon. That will be all for this evening, you may retire," Patrick said as he moved into the foyer with Violet close behind.

"Very well my lord. Rest well my lord." Mrs. Devon moved off, leaving him to take his jacket from Violet's shoulders.

"She didn't approve."

The comment did not warrant a response, but Patrick gave one anyway as he led her up the main staircase.