Daniel started to grow angry. Violet wasn’t afraid of him anymore, but she still didn’t trust him either. Daniel had the feeling that winning Violet’s trust would be one of the most difficult things he ever did.
To calm himself, Daniel switched the conversation to the motorcar he was building, one he determined would break land-speed records for years to come. He liked how Violet’s eyes lighted with interest when he talked about mass-to-speed ratios and pumps to cool the powerful engine. Another point in her favor—the debutantes currently pursuing Daniel with matrimonial intent would stare at him with unconcealed boredom whenever he mentioned the words
They reached Dupuis’ farm by late afternoon. Violet and even Simon looked tired, but to Daniel the drive ended far too soon. Dupuis offered them a bed for the night, but Violet was adamant she return to Marseille and her mother. Daniel thanked Dupuis, accepted the basket of dinner Dupuis’ housekeeper fixed for them, and drove Violet and Simon back to the train station.
Simon joined Violet and Daniel in the first-class train compartment, all three eating hungrily of the crusty bread, cheese, meat, and wine Dupuis had given them. Then Violet, worn out from their adventures, fell asleep against Daniel’s shoulder.
Simon snored on the seat opposite, but Daniel was wide awake. He looked down at Violet’s dark hair snaking across his coat, her flushed cheek, her dusky red lips parted in sleep. Her hand, limp, rested on the seat, very near Daniel’s thigh.
Yes, she could stay with him as long as she wanted. He’d take care of her. Daniel didn’t like casual, brief affairs, having seen his father carry out too many of those. Lord Cameron had taken a string of mistresses in rapid succession throughout Daniel’s childhood—his women would come into Daniel’s life and then vanish, often before Daniel had time to learn their names.
Daniel came to understand, as he grew older, that Cameron had been vastly lonely. He’d used the affairs to try to fill the hollow place Daniel’s mother had brutally carved into him. Cameron hadn’t trusted women, so he’d pushed them away before he could form any sort of attachment to them.
What Daniel had learned from his father’s actions was that short affairs led to emptiness and impermanence. He’d made a vow long ago not to let that be his life. What he had with Violet he wanted to last a long, long time.
For now, having the soft weight of Violet’s head on his shoulder was fine. She was giving him the tiniest touch of trust, lying here with him, surrendering to sleep.
Daniel hated to wake her as the train slid into Marseille, but Violet blinked as they came to a halt. She looked a bit embarrassed to have fallen asleep on him, but otherwise made no fuss.
They disembarked, and Daniel hired a cab to take them the short way to Violet’s boardinghouse.
He told Simon and the cab to wait while he walked Violet to her door, the box with her machine under his arm. Night had fallen, and with it came cold. Lights warmed the windows of the boardinghouse, but the street was dark.
It seemed wrong to say good-bye to her at the front door of the prim house and leave her. Daniel should be taking Violet to his hotel, moving them to a sumptuous suite, keeping her there with him. He wanted again to stretch his body alongside hers and slide his hand into her nightdress as he’d done this morning. He remembered the satin-silk of her skin, the warm weight of her breast, the firm point of her nipple rising against the brush of his fingers. Daniel would ease her with his touch then teach her what other magic they could find together.
But slowly. Violet was skittish. He had to woo her.
“Good night, then,” Daniel said to her. He took Violet’s hand in a friendly handshake then remained holding it, not letting go. “I’d say that was a fine day out.”
Violet made no move to withdraw her hand. “One day changed to two. My mother will scold.”
“Tell her you were with a reckless man, but he took care of you just fine.”
“She won’t believe me. Or you. Good night, Mr. Mackenzie.” Violet leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek.
A friendly kiss, or it should have been. Her lips lingered on his skin, and Daniel turned his head in the dark to lightly kiss her mouth.
Her lips were warm despite the cold, and soft, sweet. Daniel wanted to take the kiss deeper, to taste her again.
He drew back as someone passed along the street, and Violet slipped her hand from his. “Good night,” she said.
“Wait. Your wind machine.” Daniel took the box from under his arm, and leaned down and kissed her cheek. “Good night.”
Violet took the box. “Good night.”
Daniel grinned, not moving. “Good night.”
Violet shifted the box to one hand, braced it against her hip, and reached for the door handle. “Good night.”
Daniel stepped down from the doorstep to the street. “Good night.”
She smiled over her shoulder. “Good night.”
Violet opened the door, and Daniel tipped his hat. “Sleep well.”
“And you.”
“Good night, then.”
“Good night.”
Simon was watching with interest, leaning on the cab’s back wheel and smoking a cigarette. He grinned as Daniel turned around one last time and waved to Violet.
“Good night,” Daniel called.
“Good night,” Violet returned and finally disappeared inside.
Daniel heaved a sigh, dragged a cigarette from his pocket, and accepted Simon’s offer of a light. The driver looked down at them impatiently, but Daniel leaned on the coach wheel beside Simon and waited.
Simon guffawed. “If you hurry home and go to sleep, sir, you can see her again in the morning.”
“Cheek,” Daniel said, drawing in smoke. “Am I that bloody obvious?”
“You look as my youngest brother did when he was first wooing his woman. Didn’t like to take his eyes off her for nothing.”
“No?” Daniel gazed up at the window in which he’d seen Violet before. “What happened to him then?”
“Married her. And they lived happily ever after. Well, as happily as they can in a small flat with four children and a dog.”
“Sounds idyllic.”
“They think so. There’s the light you’re watching for.”
A curtain went back in the upper window, a faint glow of a kerosene lamp behind it. Violet’s silhouette appeared, she looking down into the street. Daniel raised his hand, and Violet returned the wave, hers graceful.
She didn’t turn from the window. Violet watched Daniel, and Daniel watched her.
“Is this going to go on all night?” Simon asked. “If so, I’ll step to a wine shop. I don’t much understand the pubs in this country, but I’m learning to like the jug wine.”
“Get into the damned coach,” Daniel said. He knew he was making a complete fool of himself, but he couldn’t stop.
He took off his hat, blew Violet a dramatic kiss, jumped onto the step of the coach, and told the driver to go. Simon tossed down his cigarette and flung himself inside through the other door as the carriage pulled away.
Daniel remained on the step, waving with his hat as the coach rumbled down the street. Violet shook her head and let the curtain fall, but Daniel knew she was laughing at him. He clung to the side of the carriage all the way around the corner and into the next street.
If Daniel was going to make a fool of himself, he might as well do it all the way.
Violet had no idea why, the next day, she put on the best dress she owned and made a fuss over her hair. Daniel wouldn’t come. Their adventure was over, finished.
