The Bride Trilogy

She started to remind him he had agreed to call her Violet, but somehow it no longer seemed important. Instead She took his arm, wishing far more that he would stop referring to her as his wife. She would never truly be his and she wasn’t the sort to pretend.

Still, she let him lead her onto the dance floor and took her place in front of him. Since he stood nearly a foot taller than she, dancing with him should have been awkward, but from the moment he took her in his arms and the music started, from the instant he swept her into the rhythm of the dance, it was like floating on air.

Round and round the parquet floor he whirled her, keeping perfect rhythm, holding her a little closer than proper, even for a husband. She tried to ignore the warmth of his palm at her waist, the way his long leg wedged between hers with each of his graceful turns. She tried to ignore the way he was looking at her, as if she belonged to him and he couldn’t wait to ravish her.

Her breathing quickened. A tendril of heat curled softly in the bottom of her stomach. She forced herself to think of Jeffrey, handsome and fair, blond hair gleaming as he held her hand in the gardens at Griffin Heights and told her he had fallen in love with her.

She tried to imagine she was waltzing with Jeffrey, but when she looked up, it wasn’t Jeffrey’s face she saw but the solid jaw and beautiful blue eyes of the man she had married.

A man who wanted nothing but the use of her body and her father’s armaments factory.

She steeled herself and eased a little away.

“You’re a very good dancer,” Rule said as the waltz came to a close.

“Am I? I thought it was you.”

He smiled. “Perhaps it was the two of us dancing together.”

“Perhaps.”

“There is a theory that a man and woman who dance well together, make love well together.”

Her cheeks colored. “I—I wouldn’t know.” But an odd sensation filtered into her stomach.

“We are married. Perhaps we should test the theory.”

Violet shook her head, though deep down she couldn’t deny the tiny thread of interest the notion stirred.

Making love with Rule Dewar. She had been fascinated with the man’s incredible good looks and charm from the moment she had met him. If things were different, if there were no strings attached and she and Jeffrey didn’t already have an understanding, she might be tempted to try it.

“I hear congratulations are in order.”

Violet looked up to see a dark-haired, handsome man nearly as tall as Rule striding toward them.

“They are, indeed. It’s good to see you back in Society.” Rule smiled down at her. “Violet, this is Benjamin Wyndam, Earl of Nightingale. He’s the previous owner of what was formerly Hawksworth Munitions and is now Griffin Manufacturing. The man from whom your father purchased the plant.”

“Yes, I remember hearing your name. Lovely to meet you, my lord.” Inwardly, Violet smiled, beginning to get the hang of using the ridiculous British titles.

“You, as well, my lady.” Nightingale smiled at her softly and she noticed a sadness in his eyes that seemed deep and abiding. “I lost my wife two years ago. I hope you and Rule are as happy as Maryann and I once were.”

And clearly he grieved for her still. “I am sorry, my lord. And thank you for your kind wishes.” What else could she say? The earl had obviously loved his wife. If only Rule could—

She broke off the thought. Rule wasn’t the sort to fall in love. Their marriage was no more than a business arrangement. If she wanted a husband who loved her, she would have to marry Jeffrey.

Violet frowned, disliking the way the thought had come out. she didn’t have to marry Jeffrey. She wanted to.

It was simply that he was so far away.

Another man walked up just then. He was perhaps forty, beginning to lose his hair and had eyes that seemed to miss nothing. “So this is your lovely bride. Your marriage seems the only interesting bit of gossip I’ve heard all evening. Your wife is quite a lovely surprise, my lord.”

“Thank you,” Rule said somewhat stiffly. “Violet, this is Burton Stanfield. Over the years we’ve had some business dealings together.”

“That is correct. And a few weeks back I tendered an offer to buy Griffin Manufacturing. Unfortunately, his lordship turned it down.”

A buyer for the company! Exactly what she needed. But Rule had refused the offer. The information nettled, considering how much she wanted to sell. At home, trouble was brewing in the Northern and Southern states, the country fiercely divided over the issue of slavery. Violet had friends on both sides, people she cared about. She didn’t want to be in the business of making the weapons that might be used to kill them.

Still, Rule had done a good job managing Griffin so far. He might have had good reason for turning the man down.

Violet focused on Stanfield. “Perhaps your offer wasn’t high enough. With the tensions growing between the states in America, there is already increased demand for weapons. I should think that would make Griffin worth a good deal of money.”

Burton Stanfield smiled. “A woman with a head for business. How unusual.” He turned to Rule. “I believe you have managed to capture yourself a very interesting female.”

“Her maiden name is Griffin,” Rule explained. “Violet spent a good deal of time with her father at the Boston branch of the business.”

“I am also half owner of Griffin,” she said sweetly, drawing a frown from Rule.

Stanfield studied her with heightened interest. “Is that so? Then perhaps I can win your support for my cause.”

She kept her smile in place. “I’m afraid I would have to discuss the matter with…my husband.”

Stanfield cocked an eyebrow. “Indeed. A promise I shall hold you to, my lady.”

Rule’s hand settled possessively at her waist. “If you will excuse us, there are some other people I would like my wife to meet.”

“Of course.” Stanfield made a polite bow and stepped out of their way. Leaving the man behind, she let Rule guide her rather forcefully toward a quiet area off the main part of the ballroom.

“It is not considered polite to discuss business matters at affairs such as these.”

“Is that so? Or is it merely impolite for a woman to discuss business matters at affairs such as these?”

Rule eyed her darkly. Then a corner of his mouth edged up. “You are not like other women, Violet Dewar. Perhaps that is the reason you intrigue me.”

“Do I?”

His blue eyes darkened. “In ways you are yet too innocent to understand.” He took her arm and laced it with his. “Come. We’ll make a pass round the ballroom. I’ll speak to a few more of the guests and then, if you are ready, we’ll go home.”

Violet breathed a sigh of relief. “I should like that above all things…my lord.”

It was the first time she had used his title and Rule grinned, carving the dimples she remembered into his cheeks.

“My lord?” he repeated as if she had finally accepted him as her master. “That has a very nice ring.”

She bit back a smile and shook her head. “You are a devil, Rule Dewar.” With the devil’s own charm.

And the way her stomach lifted when he looked at her the way he did now, as if she were a particularly delectable sweet, put her on guard.

If she weren’t extremely careful, she might wind up in the devil’s bed.

Rule left Violet in the care of his sisters-in-law and wove his way among the guests. As much as his somewhat tarnished reputation would allow, he wanted to smooth the way for his wife’s admittance into the inner sanctum of upper-class British Society.

As he paused here and there to speak to friends and answer questions about his bride and his unexpected marriage, he began to frown at some of the things he was overhearing. Gossip about the reasons for his hasty wedding, implications that his bride had been less than pure at the time they spoke their vows.

He tried to explain about Howard Griffin’s illness and the arrangement the man had made to secure his daughter’s future, but the more he talked, the more smug smiles and winks he received and the more irritated he became.

It surprised him to feel so protective of Violet when he had never felt that way about a woman before. He hadn’t known his mother, who had died giving birth to him. The only females in his family were his frail old aunt Agatha, whom he adored as the mother he never had, and his sisters-in law, whom he greatly respected.

He told himself his protectiveness came simply because Violet was his wife and not because he was so strongly attracted to her, not because he admired her for having the courage to travel all the way to England to confront him.

He watched her laughing at something Reese said. Reese, who rarely joked and hardly ever smiled until he married Elizabeth.

Rule liked it when Violet smiled. He would like it even more if one of those sweet smiles was intended for him.

He watched her until, from the corner of his eye, he caught sight of her cousin, Caroline. He straightened as he realized the girl was in conversation with his best friend, Lucas Barclay. Good God, Caroline Lockhart was as innocent as Violet, and, he noticed for the very first time, far more beautiful than he had realized.

And Luke was eyeing her like a wolf with a fresh piece of meat.

Rule strode toward them. “I see you’ve met my cousin, Miss Lockhart.”

One of Luke’s dark eyebrows went up. “Your cousin?”

“My wife’s cousin. My cousin by marriage.” Rule tried for a smile but it was thin at best.

“Ah, yes. I have yet to meet your lovely bride. Amazing, isn’t it? My best friend has a wife and I am the last to know.”

Rule sighed. “It’s a long story. I realize I owe you an explanation. Perhaps over lunch on the morrow?”

“Oh, indeed. Better late than never.” Luke’s tight smile softened as he gazed down at the little blonde. “In the meantime, Miss Lockhart has just agreed to partner me in a waltz.” He extended his arm. “Shall we, Miss Lockhart?”

She accepted Luke’s arm and returned his smile. “I would be delighted.”

They started forward but Rule stepped in front of them. “One dance, Luke. That’s all.”

Luke eyed him darkly. He made a stiff nod of his head. “I shall keep your wishes in mind.” But he didn’t say he would obey them. Luke was angry that Rule had kept his marriage a secret.

He had a right to be, Rule supposed. The two of them were like brothers.

But then he hadn’t told his brothers, either.

He watched the couple on the dance floor, Luke tall and dark, Caroline small, blue-eyed and fair. They made a handsome couple, might even make a good match—except that Luke was the biggest rake in London and fiercely opposed to marriage.

Rule inwardly sighed. Already his duties as husband were starting. He had a responsibility to his wife, but also to her family. He blew out a breath, wishing his first duty wasn’t to guard his cousin-in-law against his best friend.

Six

Half an hour passed. Rule decided to make a quick trip through the gaming room, see what sort of fires he might put out there, then collect his wife and go home.

He smiled as he walked down the hall, oddly pleased by the thought. My wife. Never once had it occurred to him he might like having a woman belong to him. Still smiling, he had just turned the corner when a lady gowned in scarlet silk appeared in front of him. Evelyn Dreyer, Viscountess St. Ives.

“Good evening, my lady,” he said to his former mistress. “You’re looking quite splendid tonight.” With her pale blond hair and amazing cheekbones, she was a beautiful woman. Rule gazed at her and thought of hair the color of flames and a pert nose dotted with intriguing little freckles.

“I just heard the news,” Evelyn said with a viperous smile. “You are married.”

“Yes, I am.”

“For quite some time, I gather.”

“Three years.” Though still not officially, since he hadn’t yet bedded his bride, but that was none of Evie’s business.

Her mouth thinned. Before he realized her intent, her hand snaked out and connected solidly with his cheek.

“You’re married,” she said. “How dare you!”

Rule rubbed his cheek. “In case you have forgot, my dear, you are also married. In point of fact, your husband is currently standing in the ballroom.”

“It is not the same thing.”

“Indeed? The viscount might disagree.”

“Harold is old and ugly and cannot even function while your wife is…is…”

“Beautiful and desirable?”

Her slender nose went into the air. “I didn’t say that.”

“You didn’t have to marry Harold. You could have married someone else.”

Ignoring the statement, she pinned him with a glare. “You should have told me.”

“I should have told a lot of people. My apologies, madam.” He made her a mocking half bow. “And now, if you will excuse me…”

Evelyn said nothing more, but her cheeks still carried an angry flush, and he could see that ending their affair had disturbed her far more than she had admitted.

It didn’t matter.

It wasn’t Evelyn Dreyer he wanted in his bed. It was the woman he had married.

A jolt of desire speared through him and his shaft went hard. He wanted Violet Dewar and he meant to have her.

It was only a matter of when.

Violet stepped back into the shadowy alcove indented into this section of the hallway. Her heart was beating, thrumming like a bird trapped in her chest.

She had been on her way to the ladies’ retiring room when she spotted Rule in the corridor in conversation with a woman. She was tall and statuesque with high, carved cheekbones and a lush bosom no man could miss. Her eyes were dark, her lips full and red. She appeared to be several years older than Violet and she was beautiful. Violet couldn’t hear the conversation, but clearly the woman was angry.

She took a deep breath. Setting a hand over her heart, she willed it to slow. She knew exactly who the lady was, the only person it could be.

She recalled the most recent conversation she had overheard in the ballroom.

“You don’t suppose his marriage has anything to do with his mistress, Lady St. Ives? I heard they parted on very bad terms. Perhaps he married the chit out of spite.”

He hadn’t, of course. He had married her for money and power, not vengeance.

She thought again of the beautiful Lady St. Ives. Violet wasn’t surprised to learn Rule had kept a mistress. Most married men did.

And in truth, as he had said, they were not, in the strictest sense, actually married.

Still, it bothered her. She didn’t like to think of him kissing the blonde, doing more than kissing.

I will show you what is more than kissing, he had said, almost as if it were a vow.

She drew in a shuddering breath. The man is a rogue of the very worst sort, she reminded herself, but she couldn’t get that kiss out of her head.

Checking to be certain the pair no longer stood in the hallway, Violet continued on to the ladies’ room. She was on her way back, nearing the alcove she had hidden in before when she heard Rule calling her name, and a little shiver went through her.

“There you are. I’ve been looking all over.”

She thought of the elegant blonde. “Have you? I thought perhaps you were looking for someone else. Lady St. Ives, perhaps?”

He frowned. “So you’ve heard. I imagined you would, sooner or later.”

“Actually, I saw the two of you together in the hall.”

He glanced away, released a weary breath. “I won’t lie to you, Violet. I’m a man and a man has needs. The affair is over. Has been for some time. I have no interest in Evelyn Dreyer and won’t anytime in the future.”

She pondered the words, wondered if they were true. “I see.”

“I hope you do.”

Her eyes widened as he began to ease her backward into the alcove. His arms came around her, drawing her close, and his mouth came down over hers.

It wasn’t the same gentle kiss as before. It was a hot, taking ravishment so powerful it made her dizzy. Her fingers curled into the muscles across his wide shoulders. Her mouth parted under his fierce assault and his tongue slid over hers.

Violet made a little mewling sound and simply clung to him, swamped with sensation and completely unable to think. He tasted of brandy and she could smell his spicy cologne. Her body was thrumming, pulsing. Every feminine part of her ached with the need for more of what he offered.

Rule finally ended the kiss, but kept an arm around her as if he knew he had left her weak in the knees.

He reached out and ran a finger down her cheek. “God, I want you.”

Violet stood there trembling. “You…you can’t keep doing that.”

“Kissing you? I’m your husband. I can kiss you whenever I wish, and furthermore, I intend to do it every chance I get.”

“But…but…”

“You gave me thirty days to convince you. That is what I am doing—convincing you.”

“But I can’t just…You can’t just…We can’t just…”

“Yes, we can. Come along, sweet wife. Let us collect your cousin. It is past time we went home.”

Violet swallowed, but she didn’t argue. She had mistakenly thought she would be safe from Rule at a very large, well-attended ball.

She had just discovered there was no place she was safe from Rule Dewar.

Violet lay on the mattress staring up at the ice-blue canopy above her head. Guilt rested like a heavy weight on her chest. She shouldn’t have been kissing Rule. She was going to marry Jeffrey. She shouldn’t have responded the way she did.

Dear God, why had she agreed to Rule’s ridiculous arrangement in the first place?

But, of course, at the time it had seemed the best solution, the easiest way out of the marriage. No attorneys, no scandal, just a quiet annulment to which Rule had promised to agree.

She sighed into the quiet of the room, trying not to remember tonight’s kiss, the incredible sensations that had burned through her body. Surely it was merely a physical response. If Jeffrey kissed her that way, she would feel exactly the same.

A sound reached her from the hallway outside her bedroom. She jerked upright at the squeak of the silver doorknob turning. Surely Rule wouldn’t—

She relaxed as Caroline slipped into the bedroom and told herself she didn’t feel a flicker of disappointment.

“We didn’t get to talk after the ball,” Caroline said, plopping down on the edge of the mattress in her nightgown and pink silk wrapper. Low flames curled over the grate in the hearth, banishing the chill and lighting the room with a soft yellow glow. “Wasn’t it simply magnificent?”

Violet scooted back, propping herself up against the headboard. “I suppose it was.”

“You suppose? Good heavens, I had a marvelous time. I danced until my slippers were nearly worn out.”

“You weren’t the one having to pretend to be something you are not.”

“Like a wife, you mean?”

“Like Rule’s blissful bride.”

Caroline wound a lock of long blond hair around the tip of her finger. “I think his family liked you. I don’t suppose that truly matters, but still…”

“I wanted them to like me. They are very nice people.”

Caroline eyed her with suspicion. “You aren’t thinking you might stay married?”

“Of course not.” She examined a fold in the satin counterpane. “Rule had a mistress. Did you hear?”

Caroline sighed. “I heard the gossip. Everyone was buzzing about it. She was there, you know.”

“I saw them together. Rule says the affair is over, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t intend to replace her with someone else. Most married men think nothing of keeping a mistress.”

“You are better off with Jeffrey.”

“I know.”

“Did you meet anyone interesting?” Caroline asked.

“Actually, I did. A potential buyer for the company. A man named Burton Stanfield. Apparently he made an offer but Rule turned it down.”

“Did you ask him why?”

“Not yet, but I intend to. Of course, he couldn’t have accepted without my approval even if he had wished.”

“Maybe he doesn’t want to sell. Maybe he likes running the company.”

“Once the marriage is annulled, I become sole owner of Griffin and I can do whatever I want. I don’t want to make weapons that could be used in a war to kill my family and friends.”

“It’s going to come to that, isn’t it? We’re going to have some sort of revolution?”

“Yes, I feel certain we are. At any rate, Rule has done a good job thus far and I’d like to know his thoughts on Stanfield as a buyer. At the same time, I don’t want to alert him to the fact I intend to sell. I’ll have to tread carefully.”

Caroline grinned. “You can do it. You are good at getting what you want.”

It was true, though lately, where Rule was concerned she felt greatly out of her element.

“I met someone interesting tonight, myself,” Caroline said.

Violet’s interest sharpened. “Did you? Who was it?”

“He is a friend of your…of Rule’s. His name is Lucas Barclay.”

“Good grief, you can’t be serious. People were talking nearly as much about him as they were about Rule. The man is notorious.”

In the firelight, Violet caught her cousin’s smile. “Luke is a marvelous dancer and unbelievably handsome.” She grinned. “And I’ve never been one to listen to gossip.”

“Luke? You call him Luke? You had better be careful, cousin. What would your grandmother say if she knew you were spending time with a rogue like Barclay?”

“It was only a dance, Vi. And speaking of my grandmother…I have put off my visit for as long as I dare. Grandmother will begin to worry. I am going to see her tomorrow. She’ll want to meet you. Will you go with me?”

“Of course I will.”

“She’s expecting me to stay for at least the next few weeks.”

Violet nodded. “I know you have obligations. But I shall miss you terribly.”

“It won’t be all that bad. Grandmother lives here in London. We’ll be able to see each other often.”

But Violet would be alone in the house with Rule. She didn’t trust him.

More importantly, she wasn’t sure she could trust herself.

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