The Wicked Deeds of Daniel Mackenzie

Violet looked confused. “Then how will you prove it? You can’t by simply putting the thought into my head. I won’t believe you.”

Daniel couldn’t stop his laughter. “Violet. Lass.” He let his voice go low, coaxing. “You are good at knowing what people want to hear from those on the other side. You are an expert at giving them a show that amazes them. Well, this is my area of expertise. You give yourself into my hands, and I guarantee you’ll be handing over your shilling so fast the room will spin.”

“You are very sure of yourself, Daniel Mackenzie.”

“Because this I know how to do. Tonight you’ll feel no pain and no fear. Only good things. Better than good. All right?”

Violet’s assurance vanished. She obviously had no idea what Daniel meant to do, and that was very sad.

“Remember when we were up in the balloon?” Daniel asked. “Sailing across the land, going where the wind took us?”

Violet’s smile returned, her eyes softening in remembered delight. “Yes. That was wonderful.”

“It will be like that.”

She didn’t believe him. “How can that be? I’ve never felt anything like it before.” Violet looked hopeful. “Will you take me ballooning again sometime?”

“Of course I will. I told you, we’ll go up in Scotland. Beautiful, and the winds are unpredictable. Very exciting. But for now . . .” Daniel eased Violet back against the scrolled end of the sofa. “You must let me try to win the wager.”

Violet wet her lips, the nervous movement stroking moisture across her mouth. “What do I have to do?”

“That’s the beauty of it. You don’t have to do anything.” Daniel positioned himself so he sat on the edge of the sofa, with Violet lying back against the cushions. “I’ll take good care of you.”

Violet nodded, the gesture stiff.

“But you talk to me,” Daniel went on. “If you want to know why I’m doing what I’m doing, or you get scared, you tell me. Promise?”

“Promise.” The word was barely a breath.

“All right then.” Daniel let his voice go soft. “Off we go.”

Chapter 18

Violet had no idea what Daniel meant to do. All kinds of scenarios flashed through her head, every one of them frightening.

Against her fear came the gentleness in his voice when he said, I’ll take good care of you.

Violet trembled, but she waited.

Daniel unlaced her boots and drew them, one at a time, from her feet. Violet flexed her toes in her thick stockings, her feet cramped from the night’s sitting and the walk from the carriage.

Daniel’s hands were strong. He cradled both feet, drawing his thumbs around her instep, massaging the tension there.

It felt good, yes, but a foot rub was a long way from the so-intimate act they’d been speaking of. Even Mary rubbed Violet’s feet sometimes.

But then, a massage from Daniel was a great deal different from one from Mary. Mary was briskly competent. Daniel, on the other hand, gave Violet a slow smile, which turned mundane foot rubbing into something bordering the erotic.

Daniel lifted one stockinged foot as he moved his thumbs over the arch of it. Then he leaned down and carefully bit her toes.

Violet gasped and tried to jerk her foot away. “What if my stockings were dirty?”

Daniel captured her again. “The efficient Violet? Put on soiled stockings? I don’t think so. But if it worries you . . .”

He slid his hands up her leg until his fingers caught on the tie of her plain garter. Violet remembered how Daniel had checked her for breaks or hurts when they’d crash-landed the balloon. The frisson of delight as his fingers had touched her calves had unnerved her then, and it unnerved her now.

Daniel’s hands were firm and sure, and he made short work of the garter. Her stocking loosened, and Daniel slid it down and off her leg.

He slid off her other stocking in the same way then moved Violet’s bare feet back to his lap, beginning another massage.

“You have lovely toes.” But Daniel was looking into her eyes, his smile so sinful Violet wasn’t certain whether to squirm or laugh.

He lifted one foot, cradling her heel in his hand. He kissed the tips of her toes then the ball of her foot. The tickling tingle became a burn of pleasure.

Daniel slid his hot touch up her bare leg, her skirt and petticoat rising as he went. Her loose lawn drawers moved upward under Daniel’s skilled touch, until his thumbs brushed the soft skin on her inner thighs.

Violet had never realized how sensitive she was there. When Violet washed herself, her thighs were as neutral to her as the inside of her arms or the space between her shoulder blades.

When Daniel touched her, her perception changed. His fingers did a sweet dance, streaks of heat, a feeling Violet couldn’t define. She found herself clutching the back of the sofa, her fingers sinking into its soft fabric.

Daniel’s fingers stopped, and Violet swallowed disappointment.

“Ye all right, love?”

“Yes.” Violet could barely say the words. “I’m . . . fine.”

“Good. Because these come off next.” Daniel tugged at the buttons of her drawers.

Her eyes widened. “No . . . I mean, I don’t think I can.”

“But I must win my wager.” Daniel’s eyes were dark in the firelight, his smile soft. “A gentleman never backs out of a wager. He pays his debt of honor. Or collects his debt, as the case may be.”