Violet knew that she was the worst type of fool. The air was sporadically marked with the sounds of crystal glasses being touched against one another, soft laughter and the tick-ticking of a grandfather clock. Patrick had not spoken to her in many ticks... one-hundred-six ticks to be exact.
Fool! Violet cursed at herself. How had it come to this? Why was she so aware of the man beside her? His every breath, every move of his body... He is a blood drinker! She thought furiously, but the reminder did nothing to detract from her attraction.
Patrick had saved her life. Twice! He was intense, mysterious and now she had discovered a kindness to him that made him all the more irresistible.
Coming to the dinner had been a spur of the moment decision prompted partly by the small hope that she might find a trail of Ismail, if not the man himself. Another reason was simply the desire to make Sarah happy with a fashionable dress.
What Violet had not considered was how difficult dining with the upper classes would be. She had never eaten in polite company, and it had been far too long since Cook's tutoring in table manners. If it had not been for Patrick, she would have embarrassed herself or gone hungry. Probably both. He had helped her through the entire dinner, prompting her whenever she reached for the wrong utensil, adjusting her glass when she almost tipped it over. And now for the first time since they sat down, he was completely quiet and the silence was nerve-racking.
Patrick put her off balance, Violet realised. He made her behave unexpectedly, made her forget her goals, made her want as she had never wanted before.
"Violet?"
Violet almost jumped out of her skin as his voice came to her in a whisper. He was leaning towards her, his warm breath close to her ear. Too close for comfort.
"Yes?"
"This will not do."
Brows furrowed in confusion, Violet was about to ask what he meant when Lady Summers called her name.
"Yes, Lady Summers?" Glad at having a reprieve, Violet turned her head to face Lady Summers. It was easy to determine the Lady's location as the woman's clothes smelled as though they had been bathed in rose petals.
"If I procure a violin, might you favour us with a song?"
Violet smiled, the request reminding her why she was here. Wearing a beautiful dress, chatting casually with nobility, she had almost been feeling like that Violet of old. The silly daughter of a noble who spent the first years of her life roaming the halls of a mansion on her own. But she was not that Violet anymore. She was a gypsy. She was a musician. And she had been asked to this party to stimulate conversation and perform.
"It would be my pleasure, Lady Summers."
Sounds of excited approval filled the air as Lady Summers asked that they should all retire to the music room. Before Violet could move, a hand came beneath her arm and guided her out of her seat.
"I don't need your help to get out of the chair." Her fierce whisper made her feel like she was being a tad ungrateful, but Patrick had to know she was no invalid.
"It is not about your needs sweetheart, it's about mine."
Sweetheart. The endearment caught her off guard and made her angry at the same time. They were moving away from the table and the only thing that kept her from jerking her arm away was that there were too many people around them to take notice. Violet could hear Angelica speaking to Daniel a few paces ahead. Lady Summers was even further to the left, showing the way to the music room.
"You're not making any sense," she said, trying to keep her tone reasonable.
"You are right, it makes no sense," Patrick admitted close to her ear. "But I seem to have developed a need to touch you."
Shivers ran down her spine at the seductive words. He pulled at her hand so that her arm was hard against his muscular chest. She was no weak ninny; she knew exactly what was happening. In truth she had initiated it, when she kissed him the very first time they met. Patrick was seducing her.
"Lady Violin?" Lady Summers called out. Patrick let go of her arm, breaking the spell he had woven. The scent of polished wood came to her as the matron approached. "I do hope you are going to be satisfied with the instrument."
"Thank you, Lady Summers, it is beautiful." Violet took the violin in her hands and moved away from Patrick. "Where would you like me to stand?"
"Right this way!" Lady Summers moved off, and Violet followed without another word to the silent man behind her.
It took a few moments for the gathered assembly to settle and then Violet turned her face towards her hostess.
"Is there anything in particular you would like me to play?"
"Oh, I am sure anything you play will be just perfect," the hostess was quick to reassure.
Smiling her thanks, Violet tucked the instrument under her chin, lifted the taught bow and began to play. Beethoven's violin concerto filled the room, brushing over the listening like a soft caress. It was not a piece Violet played in the circus, but one she loved. A girl who could not see playing music written by a man who could not hear; it seemed quaint and she felt a kinship to the man who had lived long ago.
As her fingers flew across the strings, her thoughts drifted to the man who watched her from the back of the room. Despite the dozens of other guests crowding around her, the scent of him was distinct, clear, strong.
Patrick wanted her and if she were honest with herself she wanted him too. She knew society frowned upon women who would give themselves to any man other than their husbands, but Violet did not adhere to that kind of thinking. She had grown up amongst gypsies and so held altogether different views on the matter.
There was no dishonour in indulging ones passions, no deceit in wanting a man and telling him so. While she was growing up, Violet had been afraid to act on her desire for any of the men she had come to know at the gypsy camp. It wasn't the men that frightened her, she had been afraid of everything back then. Unable to see, she had not been in control of anything. She would trip over stones, knock over pots and pans, walk too close to the camp fires and find herself on the ground more often than not. There had been too much fear for her to possibly enjoy a man. Too much uncertainty to give herself to anyone, even if she had found someone she felt passion for.
But she was in control now. She was unafraid and she would explore the intense desire she felt for the man who had moved closer, and was leaning against the wall a few feet away.
His scent came to her, wrapping her in a delicious wave of heat.
Yes, she would take Patrick up on his unspoken offer, but on her own terms. Being in new surroundings had left her exposed, but she was calmer now and she had no intention of letting any man seduce her. She would have him, because she wanted him. Despite the face that he was a blood drinker.
The song came to an end and was followed by uproarious applause.
"Lovely, absolutely wonderful!" Lady Summers came to her side, her delight obvious in her tone of voice.
"Thank you my Lady." Before the woman could say another word, Violet continued in a tone that would not be overheard, "I am hoping you will be satisfied with the one piece. If I play too much your guests may decide they have no need of coming to the circus to hear more."
"Smart girl," the older woman chuckled as she took back the violin and bow. "I knew I liked you the minute I set eyes on you."
Violet blushed under the woman's praise, "Perhaps though, you could ask Princess Kourakin to play for you as well. That should please your guests."
"That is a wonderful idea!" Lady Summers acknowledged before turning to call to Angelica.
Violet moved to the back of the room as the audience prepared to be riveted by yet another very popular musician. Princess Belanov's performances were rare and her talent widely known. She was sure Angelica would forgive her for leaving without saying goodbye, so Violet followed the fading scents of the guests back to the dining room and then into the hallway.
"Leaving without a goodbye?"
Of course Patrick had followed her, she had been counting on it, but his nearness made her heart race nevertheless.
"Goodbye." Violet said as she proceeded to the front door.
Patrick kept up with her. She could hear the frown in his voice as he spoke, "Don't you have a cloak?"
A butler opened the door with a courteous 'Good night' as Violet stepped out into the cold London evening.
"It's warm enough."
His hands were under her arm again, guiding her down the steps. She allowed him to lead, because it served her purposes.
"Foolish woman."
"Is it foolish not to wear a cloak one does not possess?" Violet was getting a little bit annoyed as she felt Patrick lean forward. The smell of horses, wood and polish alerted her to the presence of a coach a moment before Patrick adjusted his grip to help her in.
Violet settled into the vehicle, realising that the arrogant man beside her had not even asked if he could give her a ride home. It didn't matter that she would have said yes, he should have asked and Violet was going to tell him so. She waited as she felt him settle in the seat across from her, then heard the door click shut.
"Put this on."
The material that landed on her lap was soft and warm from his body. Letting his commanding tone slide, Violet slid the jacket over her cold arms and shoulders.
"Thank you."
He didn't respond and Violet kept quiet, wondering why the coach was not moving. The silence grew and she became increasingly nervous. Her nose told her he was there, sitting across from her, but she could only imagine what he was doing. Was he looking at her? What was he thinking?
When she couldn't take the silence anymore, she spoke, "You never did ask, but I am assuming you are being kind enough to take me back to the circus?"
"You assumed wrong."
She exerted some effort not to sputter. Leaning forward she reached towards where she knew the door to be.
"Violet." His hand was on hers, his breath hot on her face. "Be mine."
Violet leaned back, taking her hand back so she could breathe properly. Be mine... Oh, he was good. With two simple words he had her completely flustered.
"I want to take care of you."
All desire to give in disappeared as her hackles rose. "I can take care of myself."
She heard him expel an annoyed breath. "I know you can take care of yourself, but I want to make life easier for you. I don't want you to go without a cloak in the cold, without a carriage in the dark."
Violet grimaced. So he thought to buy her did he? Like some cheap whore.
"No."
"No?"
He sounded surprised and that grated on her nerves. He really had assumed that she could be had that easily. Unfortunately, he was wrong. He could have had what he wanted, if only he had not offered to pay for it.
"Why?"
"You don't know me, that is why." She reached for the door once more, but he only grabbed her hand again.
"I want to know you. I want you to know me."
He sounded sincere, but Violet was angry. She was angry with him for his assumptions and angry with herself for wanting him despite them.
"Well the first thing you can learn about me, my Lord, is that I'm not for sale."
Patrick's lips were on hers before she had a chance to protest. His mouth was demanding, his tongue pushing for entrance. She moaned, yielding to his demands, unable to resist him or the feelings he ignited. Her hands came around his shoulders and his tongue stroked hers, driving her need to a fevered pitch. And then, as suddenly as he had kissed her, he pulled away.
"You can't tell me you don't want me," his breathing was harsh and she found great pleasure in knowing he had been just as affected as she had.
"I do want you. I don't want your money."
The silence was deafening, then Patrick pushed open the hatch on the carriage door, "Take us home."