Hart turned to face his brother. Hart was still angry, Violet could see, but when he looked at Ian, his face softened. There was love there, a powerful love that Violet had rarely seen.
“Well?” Hart said, his voice rough with impatience.
Instead of answering Hart, Ian moved his gaze from the candle flame and fixed it on Violet, or at least on Violet’s shoulder. She saw him start to look back at the candle once or twice but then firm his resolve not to turn his head.
“When you are in Paris, you must look after Daniel,” Ian said to Violet.
Violet blinked. “Me look after him?”
“Danny is like me,” Ian said, ignoring her response. “He will go after what he wants and let nothing stand in his way. But I have learned to be careful. Daniel, though, will do anything, even sacrifice himself, to win.”
Ian’s gaze didn’t move from Violet’s shoulder. One of his hands was curled to a fist, the other half clenched. Ian too was fully dressed, but no scent of outdoors came from him. He’d been on his way out, not on his way in.
“You’re not just talking about Daniel’s motorcar race, are you?” Violet asked.
Ian didn’t change expression, but he switched his gaze fully to Violet’s eyes. “Don’t let him.”
Hart broke in. “Ian . . .”
Hart might have been a dust mote for all Ian paid attention to him. “Don’t let him,” he said to Violet.
The intensity of Ian’s gaze was unnerving. Violet wondered how he could exude more power with that look than Hart could with all his harsh commands.
“I won’t,” Violet said to Ian.
“Promise me.”
“Yes, I promise.”
Ian looked at Violet for a few more heartbeats, then he broke the gaze, studied the candle flame for a count of three, then made to leave the room. He turned halfway back when he reached the doorway.
“Hart was not with another woman,” he said to Violet. “He was with Eleanor. They like to meet in unusual places and try unusual things.” A look of amusement, a flicker only, passed through Ian’s eyes. “Beds are more comfortable.”
Hart, the great Duke of Kilmorgan, flushed dark red. “Yes, thank you, Ian.”
Ian shared another amused look with Violet, turned for the door, utterly ignored his brother, and walked out of the room.
Hart watched him go, again with the look of intense affection. “Ian has difficulty not saying exactly what he feels,” he said.
“So do you,” Violet countered.
“Touché. But Ian’s not wrong about one thing—Daniel is reckless, and he’s headstrong. I don’t want to have to tell Cameron that Danny crashed his motorcar at this time trial of his or bled to death in a knife fight with your husband. You seem to be a very careful young woman. If you insist on staying with Daniel, you had better take care of him. If something happens to him, I will hold you to blame.”
Violet let out her breath in a huff. “I’ve just promised Ian I’d look out for him. But I don’t know why either of you believe I can control every move he makes. Daniel does as he pleases.”
“Do your best. If you want to prove you are good for Daniel, then make sure he comes to no harm.”
Violet had not lost her fear of the duke, but overbearing men always put her back up. “Is that a threat, Your Grace?”
“It’s a fact. Good night.” The duke gave her a proper bow and at last departed, closing the door behind him.
He left Violet in a jumble of feelings—anger, outrage, wonder.
The fact that both Ian and Hart had stopped by to explain to her that Daniel needed looking after betrayed their worry about him. Cameron never said a word, but Violet had seen the same concern in him too. In Mac as well, as careless as he pretended to be.
Daniel was a beloved son, the Mackenzie men were telling her. And Violet needed to make certain he came to no harm.
Violet wasn’t sure she could. She couldn’t imagine that she had any power over Daniel, that he needed her the way she’d come to need him.
Even while she stood in the middle of her bedroom, worrying about what the duke and Ian had told her, the physical memory of joining with Daniel lingered. She still felt the absolute joy of lying in Daniel’s arms while he made her feel like the most cherished woman in the world.
Her life had changed tonight. She knew that the Violet going forward would be nothing like the Violet she was leaving behind.
“Here we go,” Daniel said to Violet. He leaned over the door to the driver’s seat where Violet sat waiting, taking a moment to gaze upon his creation as well as the delectable woman inside it.
The motorcar, in all its glory, sat on a long, straight, empty farm road outside Paris, ready for a test run and Violet’s first time driving it. The body, painted a sunny yellow, was long, low, and narrow, the wheels with their pneumatic rubber casings riding high around the chassis.
The gear chains and driveshaft were secure beneath the car, protected from breakage by a welded metal casing. At the very front of the car was the pump he and Violet had come up with, based on Violet’s wind machine, to cool the monster engine. A high-backed bench stretched across the inside for driver and passenger, the padded, tooled leather giving the machine a touch of luxury. Beautiful Violet sitting upright on the seat made the whole thing perfect.
Daniel rubbed his ungloved hands together, breath fogging in the crisp winter air. This moment had been a long time coming.
“We put the gear in neutral,” Daniel said, reaching over the door to move the stick. “This little lever here makes the ignition ready to go, and this one keeps it from sparking too soon. Then we ease in on the throttle to give it some fuel—like that. Pull out the choke and hold on to it—cuts off air to the fuel mix, better for starting. Right? Now, don’t move.”
Daniel lifted the hand crank from the space behind the seats, into which Simon had also packed a large picnic basket and some blankets. Daniel moved to the front of the car and inserted the crank into the starting hole.
Remembering to keep his thumb cupped with his fingers—he’d seen men break their wrists starting engines like this—he pulled up hard on the crank. The engine coughed once, tried to catch, then died. Daniel cranked again. “A little more throttle!” he called. Violet nodded and reached for the lever.
On the fifth try, the engine roared to life.
Daniel snatched away the now loose crank, tossed it into the back, and returned to Violet’s side.