Private Passions Page 15

  She stopped as Violet's teacup clattered against its saucer. ‘Did you say carnality, Thomasina?’

  ‘Oh, dear, did I? Gosh. I can't possibly have meant to.’ Thomasina took another sip of her tea. ‘Conviviality, I think I meant to say. The joy of platonic pursuits. Friendship.’

  She let the silence linger, knowing that Violet's intelligence was only matched by her stubborn nature. She could bring her friend to water, but she couldn’t make her drink. All she could do, with a few well-chosen words, was try and make her realise how very thirsty she was.

  When Violet quietly cleared her throat, Thomasina knew she had managed it. She repressed a shriek of glee, pouring a little more tea into her cup.

  ‘He would have to apologise, of course. For his brusqueness of manner.’ Violet spoke slowly, as if testing out the thought. ‘But if he were appropriately sorry... I suppose I could appeal to his better nature.’

  ‘Yes, dear. His better nature.’ Thomasina inwardly rolled her eyes. ‘Mr. Morothwaite is nothing if not an altruist.’

  When Violet left, shutting the door neatly behind her, Thomasina sagged into her chair. She looked up at her cherished spider plant, saying the only words that flew to mind.

  ‘She's so good at Thucydides.’ She said it weakly, shaking her head. ‘How can she be such a fool when it comes to everything else?’

  Later that day, as the bookish quiet of the quad gave way to the drunken carousing of students let loose from their texts, Atuk and Violet sat in silence beside a crackling fire. It was their usual weeknight routine, complete with piles of archaic Greek to muddle through and a coin for the porter to look the other way—or so Atuk kept telling himself, again and again, as his headache slowly ebbed away to a more deep-rooted discomfort.

  Nothing had been said, apart from the necessary talk of which grammar to use and where the teacups should go. Certainly no apologies had been said—had Violet ever apologised to him, or vice-versa, for any sin committed over the course of their friendship?

  No. They had never needed apologies. But something was different; the air was weightier, somehow, the silence more profound under the spitting of the fire and Hercules’s happy munching on a cabbage leaf. Atuk tried to ignore it, concentrating ever more fiercely on his work, but the words kept trailing off into strange, unwelcome thoughts.

  It was all Nikau’s fault. Violet Belgrave had always lived in the sunny, bracing part of his mind entitled ‘Excellent Friends’, or ‘True Chums.’ Clever, eccentric, quiet Violet, reading a book or writing an essay or striding through the quad in the early morning, her trousers still attracting more than a few disdainful looks from the black-clad dons. Violet, an Excellent Friend. A True Chum.

  Now, thanks to Nikau—bloody Nikau, Atuk thought savagely, staring at his tea—the Violet of his mind’s eye had strayed away from the sunny uplands of ‘Excellent Friends’, down a dark, warm, perfume-filled alleyway called ‘Women of Interest.’ An alleyway she had absolutely no business being in... but despite his best efforts, he couldn’t seem to push her back where she belonged. Particularly as everything she did this afternoon, through no fault of her own, seemed to reinforce her new position in his thoughts.

  Had he really never noticed how well she looked in trousers? He didn’t know how he could have overlooked it; the marvellous shape of her, her femininity enhanced by the clean line of the garment. They way the fabric hugged her hips whenever she turned or strode up and down; the way one found oneself, almost irresistibly, thinking about how much more freely a woman could move when unencumbered by skirts. Why, a woman would be capable of clambering on top of a man, huskily pleading for—

  Enough. Atuk wondered vaguely if sticking his hand in boiling tea would distract him, if only for a moment. Then Violet sat opposite, looking at him with slightly wary eyes, and Atuk knew it would have to be his whole head in the teapot.

  ‘I’m sorry, you know. Dreadfully sorry.’ He cleared his throat, unused to apologies. ‘For… for what I said.’

  ‘I… I am most heartily sorry I slapped you. If you must know, I’ve been heartily criticising myself all day for my conduct.’ Violet tapped out a brisk little rhythm with her fingers on the top of Hercules’ s shell as the tortoise wriggled with enjoyment. ‘I was certainly being silly. I behaved atrociously.’

  ‘As did I.’ Atuk awkwardly picked a speck of dust off of his coat sleeve. ‘That’ s why I apologised. I was very rude, and... and untruthful.’

  ‘Untruthful?’ Violet's eyes met his, full of caution. ‘Are you trying to say that I’m a woman in—in—’

  ‘No. Well, yes, but... oh, hell. I lack the vocabulary.’ Atuk sighed. ‘You normally know what I’ m trying to say before I’ve even finished saying it. I... I really am most terribly sorry.’

  ‘Well. Thank you.’ Violet swallowed. ‘So am I.’

  They sat in awkward silence for some moments. Hercules looked at them, a world-weary expression on his face, before attacking a celery stalk with gusto.

  ‘I came to a realisation this morning.’ Violet spoke slowly, as if not sure how she was going to finish her sentence. ‘When I was speaking to Thomasina. I realised that I wasn’t approaching my problem from the correct perspective. If anything, I was being rather stupid about it.’

  ‘I don’t think I’ve ever seen you be stupid about anything. Unfitness as a wife aside.’ Atuk spoke warily, wondering why the atmosphere in the room had changed. ‘But go on.’

  ‘No. I really was being an absolute dullard.’ Violet looked over at Hercules, embarrassment in her tone. ‘I was acting as if my ignorance of romantic matters was an unchangeable state, that would be altered only upon marriage. But... I could always ask someone for advice. Instruction. Someone like, say, a trusted friend.’

  ‘... Oh.’ Atuk’s tongue suddenly felt thick in his mouth.

  ‘A stupid idea, really.’ Violet’ s face was still turned away from his; Atuk realised, with a growing sense of horror, that she thought he was refusing her. ‘A trusted friend, yes, but also books! So many books. Any number of books in the—’

  ‘Or a trusted friend.’ Atuk waited for her to turn to him, wondering why his heart was beating so very fast. ‘A... a teacher of sorts. Or even better, a fellow scholar. A participant in the experiment.’

  ‘Quite. An experiment—that’ s what it would be. Most impartial and scientific.’ Violet anxiously laced and unlaced her fingertips, leaning forward. ‘A sort of... emotional education. Emotional, and educational, and car—convivial. Most convivial.’

  Had she been going to say carnal? Atuk’s body was suddenly on even higher alert than before. He took a sip of tea, allowing the moment to pass, before speaking again.

  ‘An education requires instruction, yes.’ He took another, bigger sip of tea, hoping the liquid would bring inspiration. ‘Have... have you given any thought to the—the content of the course, shall we say?’

  ‘No. I would have no idea where to begin.’ Violet looked at him, shrugging. ‘It would be entirely up to this... this trusted friend.’

  Had she somehow been in contact with Nikau and his wife? Had they planned this? Something was falling into place, in a design Atuk couldn’t fathom for the life of him—and what’s more, he felt utterly powerless to stop it. Taking a gulp of tea so large he almost choked, Atuk spoke as rapidly and coolly as he could.

  ‘An unworkable idea for the vast majority of students. However trustworthy the friendship, one’s ability to remain separate from the process is always in doubt.’

  ‘I think that’s a somewhat flippant underestimation of our scholarly abilities.’ Violet’s cheeks reddened, just a little; Atuk wondered how he’d never noticed her blush before. ‘My abilities, at least. Do you really doubt that I can remain detached? That I can keep a healthy sense of perspective on whatever experiment we undertake?’

  ‘This… experiment would be very different from searching through the archives, or choosing an ablative over a vocative.’ Atuk gestured vaguely i
n the air, wondering how to make his point without being too specific. ‘The… acts involves… they change a woman.’

  ‘I see. The woman is irrevocably changed, and not the man? A scholarly assumption that I suspect is without merit.’ Violet’s expression of mildly knowing scorn unsettled Atuk deeply. ‘Perhaps you have too high an opinion of your own prowess.’

  ‘Excuse me?’ Atuk half-rose, indignant. ‘I’ll have you know my prowess has been verified by damn-near every knowledgeable source in Oxford.’

  ‘Forgive me for saying so, but your knowledgeable sources probably lacked my scholarly rigour.’ Violet’s smile was uniquely infuriating. ‘I’m sure they were far too forgiving. They don’t know how in need you are of a firm hand.’

  Atuk slowly sat back down, trying very hard not to think about Violet’s lips forming the words firm hand. ‘Must you impugn me at every turn?’

  ‘Only if you impugn my ability to treat any emotional uprising with cool, intellectual curiosity.’ Violet’s smile became just a little sly. ‘Goodness me, frater. Perhaps you will be the one irrevocably changed by this experiment.’

  ‘Nonsense.’ There was that unsettled feeling again, prickling down his back like a drop of cold water. Atuk tried to shake it off as he spoke. ‘I have never been changed in any fundamental way by conduct of this nature. My self-hood is a fixed star, not a wandering comet.’

  ‘Then afford me the courtesy of a fixed self as well.’ Violet folded her arms, one eyebrow raised. ‘Or I will have to begin the search for a fellow-scholar who will treat me with a little less condescension.’

  Auk contented himself with an extravagant roll of the eyes. Better not to respond to such a flagrant provocation—and not just because the idea of Violet conducting any kind of romantic experiment with a braying student from his lodgings made him feel unaccountably nauseous. He stood abruptly, his hands behind his back, slowly pacing from one end of the room to the other as he spoke.

  ‘I’ll afford you every courtesy, frater—but no privilege. I’ll give you as much of the benefit of my experience as you want, delivered in a thoroughly scholarly, scientific manner. To lay a foundation for your emotional education.’ He stopped, knowing he sounded like a pompous fool, but not know how to keep his own unease effectively concealed. ‘A mutual partnership. Does such an arrangement sound amenable to you?’

  ‘Of course it sounds amenable to me, idiot. I suggested it. Or Thomasina, or—or maybe you suggested it, for goodness’ sake. I can’t remember.’ Violet shrugged awkwardly. ‘It was suggested, and expounded upon, and agreed upon—my grounding in affairs of the heart begins today.’ She awkwardly smoothed out one leg of her trousers. ‘I… I imagine you know better than I where precisely to begin.’

  Atuk nodded, not knowing at all where to begin. Where would be most appropriate? The correct way to flirt, or accept an invitation to dinner, or bat one’s eyelashes? Some comment should probably be made as to more feminine ways of dressing, but he found himself at a loss. Yes, Violet should probably consider wearing skirts if she wished to appeal to a wider selection of suitors… but if any man could look at Violet in trousers completely unaffected, Atuk thought, he should be discounted immediately.

  In that moment, he forgot he’d been one of those men until roughly an hour before. He turned to Violet, ready to admit defeat, until he caught Hercules’s beady eye.

  ‘The first thing we are going to do is remove the tortoise.’ He pointed at Hercules, who turned his wrinkled head to Violet. ‘He plays no part in this.’

  ‘Hercules watches me translate for hours of every single day.’ Violet’s tone brooked no argument. ‘Removing him suggests that this differs from any other experiment, when we have already agreed it doesn’t.’

  ‘I am not doing anything even the slightest bit romantic with an animal watching me.’ Atuk glared at Hercules. ‘Consider it a remnant of the caveman instinct. Eyes on one’s back inhibits higher feeling, and thus the experiment. Hercules goes.’

  ‘Nonsense.’ Violet stood, eyes blazing. ‘Hercules stays.’

  ‘Hercules goes, or this silly idea ends here.’ Atuk moved closer. ‘My final word.’

  ‘Your final word? How ludicrous. Hercules stays, or you’ll be going into the potato box with him.’

  ‘He goes!’

  ‘He stays!’

  They stopped abruptly as Hercules, wearying of the conversation, withdrew into his shell. Violet gently picked him up, placing him by the hearth as she turned back to Atuk.

  ‘Our impartial observer appears to have removed himself from the proceedings.’ She brushed a stray lock of hair behind her ear, where it curled at the nape of her neck. ‘Returning to the crux, frater—where is the best place to begin?’

  First greetings. Pleasant scents a woman can wear. Hats, day and evening. All flashed through Atuk’s mind as good introductory subjects, each more innocuous than the last… but as he stared at Violet, transfixed by the slight curl as the corner of her mouth, only one matter seemed all that urgent.

  ‘Kissing.’ He swallowed, uniquely aware of how husky his voice had suddenly become. ‘That would be a good place to begin.’

  ‘... Oh.’ There it was again; that light, maddening flush at the top of Violet’s cheeks. ‘Is—is that your expert opinion?’

  ‘Why?’ Atuk moved even closer, intrigued by the way Violet’s blush curled into her hairline. ‘Don’t tell me you’re frightened.’

  ‘Of course not.’ Violet squared her shoulders; her hair fell loose in the process, tumbling from behind her ear. She held up a hand to adjust it; Atuk reached out, gently stilling her hand. ‘What are you—’

  ‘First lesson. A loose lock of hair, or an undone button, or a flyaway feather in your hat—all are excellent opportunities for a man who wants to kiss you. They allow him to be close to you, for chivalrous reasons.’Atuk gently tucked Violet’s hair back behind her ear. ‘You see? Now we are much, much closer.’

  ‘I… I do see.’ Violet swallowed. ‘And—and it’s usual to leave one’s hand at the base of a lady’s neck, is it?’

  ‘Oh, yes. Most common.’ Atuk couldn’t prevent himself from running his thumb along the line of her collarbone. Her skin was as lush and soft as a blooming flower. ‘If anything, it would be impolite not to.’

  ‘Understood.’ Violet’s breath hitched a little as Atuk stilled his thumb. ‘Is... is it normal to feel very hot, suddenly? As if in a very overheated room?’

  ‘Normal, and expected.’ Atuk felt it too, the sparks of fire running through his veins. He had expected Violet to feel such a sensation, but to feel such wicked, dancing thrills of excitement in his own body was an almost unwelcome shock. ‘Hot, and cold, and a little out of breath…’

  ‘And... and one simply moves closer?’ Violet moved forward; her lips were a breath away, impossibly inviting. ‘Closer, and closer, and…’

  Her lips brushed against his; the lightest and sweetest of touches. A brief, blinding instant of connection, that ended as she pulled away.

  Normal, and expected. Atuk clung to the words like a mantra, looking at her. Normal and expected; the sudden pounding of his heart, the weakness of his knees, the urge to hold and claim and take that rose in him like an overwhelming wave. Normal. Expected.

  ‘And that is a kiss.’ Violet nodded to herself, her eyes fixed on his. ‘That... that is the entirety of a kiss. Is it?’

  ‘The first kiss. The introductory kiss.’ Atuk cleared his throat, wishing he could stop looking at her. ‘It... it is meant to lead to more kisses. A gateway kiss, as it were.’

  ‘Oh.’ He had never seen Violet so seemingly lost for words. ‘And... and there are more types of kisses? I assumed there was only one kiss. A sort of variation on a theme.’

  ‘Not for anyone who enjoys kissing.’ Atuk was suddenly, aching grateful for Nikau and his suggestions. ‘There is a symphony of kisses. Each one perfect for a particular moment.’

  ‘Ah.’ Violet nodded again, apparently unable
to perform any more complex action. ‘And what does this particular moment require? The moment after the introductory kiss?’

  ‘There is really only one kiss that suits this particular moment.’ Atuk moved even closer; he could feel the heat of her body now, the scratchy tweed of her trousers against his. ‘The exploratory kiss.’

  ‘The exploratory kiss.’ Violet blinked; Atuk’s heart skipped a beat. ‘Well. We mustn’t lose the moment.’

  Atuk moved his hand upward, cupping her face. He’d never truly seen the fierce, quixotic lines of her expression before; the peaks and furrows that made her unmistakeably Violet.

  ‘Quite.’ He swallowed. ‘Carpe diem.’

  Her lips met his again; she seemed less timid this time, shyly eager as she moved. Atuk brought his other hand to her face, cradling it as lightly as he could, fighting the urge to push further as he took his fill of her. This was more than enough; the soft murmur in her throat, the rapt stillness of her body. Even the fresh, clean scent of soap on her skin, stark on anyone else, but perfectly right for Violet—all of it, every bit, was enough.

  He stifled the urge to jump as her tongue briefly parted his lips. She had clearly taken the word exploratory seriously—and how grateful he was, his body grappling with the sheer thrill of the sensation. He welcomed her, lightly, slowly stroking her tongue with his own, trying to ignore the growing urge to grip her tightly in his arms. So teasing, this pleasure, and so very unexpected... and oh, how erotic her tiny sigh of need was, as she pulled away again.

  Violet looked at him, flushed, breathing a little harder than before. ‘So that is an exploratory kiss.’

  ‘Yes.’ Atuk realised he was still cupping her face. ‘It... it normally goes on for a little longer.’

  ‘But we don’t have a tremendous amount of time, do we? There are lectures to attend.’ Violet looked at him, her eyes full of the quick, fiery curiosity that Atuk had seen so many times before. ‘Are there other kinds of kisses that can be taught at this stage?’