by Alexa Aston
“Tristan,” she warned again, but he was having none of that. He pulled her hard against him, so that she could feel his manhood rising.
“This is what you do to me, Nan,” he murmured into her ear. “Only you.”
He spun her in his arms and found her mouth. The heat between them now burned brightly. She seemed to melt in his arms. Tristan kissed her over and over, thrilling each time she made some tiny sound of approval in the back of her throat. He had never wanted a woman the way he wanted Nan.
Breaking the kiss, he stared at her beautiful, heart-shaped face. “I can’t get enough of you,” he whispered.
Laughing, she pulled his mouth back down to hers and took the lead. This time, she was kissing him and Tristan hung on for the wild ride. He became the one making satisfied noises, murmuring against her lips.
They stumbled and fell to their knees, still kissing as if they needed to as much as they needed to breathe. His hands roamed her body, lighting his own afire. Somehow, they wound up on the floor of the cottage. His hand slid under her tunic and to her breast. It filled his palm, seeming to grow, as Nan’s hips lifted against him. He dragged his hand down her body, against her flat belly, the skin smoother than silk.
Continuing to kiss her, he tugged her pants down until they sat at her knees. He needed to taste her. All of her.
Tristan broke the kiss, panting, seeing her eyes glazed with passion. He lifted her gypon and kissed her belly, running his tongue around her bellybutton. Her hips bucked again and he moved lower, fastening his mouth against her most intimate place.
“Tristan?”
He heard her voice, small and unsure, and knew he ventured where no man had gone before with her. His tongue plunged into her wet heat. Nan gasped, her fingers tightening in his hair. Then a deep moan came from her, sparking wild desire within him. He sampled her treasure chest until she writhed beneath him. When she came, she cried his name over and over as she rode the wave of pleasure.
Tristan licked her a final time and looked at her. She lay dazed, unmoving. He gently kissed her belly once more and then lifted her hips to pull the pants back to her waist, hovering over her.
He might not be able to offer Nan what she wanted from him, but he could try to make her happy in his own way. He knew he would never find any kind of happiness if she left.
“We will need to wed,” he told her. “Soon.”
A smile more genuine than any he’d ever seen lit her face. Tristan leaned down and kissed her softly.
Then she frowned. “Why? Do you finally admit that you love me?” Nan asked.
His belly clenched in fear.
“Do you love me?” she repeated, her tone growing sharp. When he remained silent, anger sparked in her eyes. “Nay, you can’t love anyone, can you? Oh, Tristan, what can I say to make you trust me?”
He wanted to trust her. To love her. But all he saw was a heap of savaged bodies, blood spilling from them, soaking the rushes they laid upon. He refused to give his heart to anyone. Not even Nan. Especially not her. For if he ever lost her, he would lose himself. ’Twould be worse than death.
She shoved him away and rolled to her feet. Instead of glaring at him angrily, he saw pity in her eyes.
“This ends now,” she declared.
Tristan rose to his feet. “But we must wed, Nan. After what we just did. ’Tis only right.” He looked at her pleadingly. “This could be how it is between us,” he said softly. “We can pleasure one another. I can give you children. A home. You would be my countess.”
“You didn’t ask me to wed you, Tristan. You announced we would do so.” She shook her head. “I am sorry. So very, very sorry. More than I could ever explain to you. I could never marry without love or trust between my husband and me.” Her mouth trembled. “That means I can never marry you.”
Nan went for the door and opened it, ready to leave. Tristan slammed it shut and whipped her around to face him. He backed her against the door and began kissing her, thinking if he did so for long enough that he could convince her to change her mind. He needed her. He couldn’t let her walk out that door without agreeing to wed him. To stay with him. To be a partner to him.
To heal him.
He cupped her face between his hands and lifted his lips a fraction from hers. “I am mad for you, Nan. I must have you in my life.” He kissed her softly once more, his hands sliding down and tightening on her shoulders.
But Nan didn’t respond this time. She became as frozen as a block of ice in his arms.
Tristan tried to kiss her again but she ordered him to stop. He pulled away, his hands still fastened to her shoulders, unwilling to break the link between them.
“This is the hardest thing I have ever done,” she told him, her face grave. “Because I have fallen in love with you.” She swallowed, pain reflected in her eyes. “But I am asking you to release me.”
Determination filled him. “I owe it to you to marry you, Nan. Besides, I must wed someone, someday, so that I may pass Leventhorpe along.”
Her eyes narrowed. “You make it sound like some business transaction. I’ll not barter my virginity merely to be your countess.” She shook her head sadly. “Nay, Tristan, I don’t need you—or any other man—under those circumstances. I refuse to compromise on something so important to me. Release me. I beg you.”
He saw nothing he could do or say would alter her stance, other than uttering the words he dare not say. Ones he refused to believe in. Ones that would punish and haunt him.
Tristan pressed a tender kiss to her forehead and forced his fingers to let go. Wordlessly, he took a step back and watched as Nan slowly turned away and opened the door. She left, closing it quietly behind her. He sank to the ground and did something he never remembered doing before, not even during those dark days seven years ago.
He wept.
Chapter 18
Nan trudged back to the castle. Her heart seemed to weigh more than her entire body, causing her to labor over each step that put distance between her and Tristan.
Something had stopped her from telling him that she knew why he had closed himself off from the idea of love. She didn’t blame him. Nan couldn’t imagine arriving at Kinwick and finding her entire family brutally murdered. To lose everyone important to her in one fell swoop would cause her to question everything about life.
And love.
She didn’t know if Tristan had it in him to love again. To open his heart and allow himself to feel once more. He might believe it wasn’t worth the risk. In the end, she had decided not to reveal that she knew the root of his pain. If he did ever learn to put away his past and reach out, she would be waiting—for Nan knew in her heart that no man would ever come close to how she felt about Tristan Therolde. She would rather spend a lifetime alone, wife to no man, than allow a substitute to take his place. It wouldn’t be fair to anyone who wished to wed her for her heart now, and always would, belong to another.
Arriving in the bailey, she saw the soldiers had been dismissed from their training exercises for the day. She found Drew so she could tell him that they would leave in the morning for Bexley.
“What has that fool done now?” Drew asked before Nan uttered a single word, anger darkening his features.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean what has that bloody dolt done or said to cause you to be so upset?” He shook his head. “I’m sure he’s gone into a rage again, threatening to banish me from Leventhorpe. Can’t the bastard see that there’s nothing romantic between you and me? His judgment is clouded by the jealousy he can’t seem to let go of.”
Nan couldn’t reply. The ache ran deep inside her. What had just occurred between her and Tristan had drained her physically and emotionally. She was weary of fighting her feelings for Tristan. Afraid she would weaken and give in to her desire for him. She wondered, for a brief moment, if her love alone could be enough to sustain them. Mayhap, for a short while. But marriage was a lifetime commitment. She refused to have a husban
d who did not love her. Not when she saw how rich the lives were of the happy couples in the de Montfort family.
“Never mind. Come here.” Drew enfolded her in his strong arms.
Nan began weeping, something she despised. She saw it as a sign of weakness. Or, in this case, foolishness. She could cry a river of tears and it would not change things between her and Tristan.
“I know something strong binds you to this man, Nan. Why he cannot surrender to it as you have is beyond my understanding. I’m afraid, though, that he’s become like poison to you.”
“You’re right, Drew,” she agreed. Getting away from Tristan would be the only thing that might save her. Angrily, she rubbed her sleeve against her eyes. “I’ve come to tell you that we’re leaving in the morning.”
“I thought we had two days left,” he protested, releasing her.
She shook her head. “I’ve made up my mind. I want to leave.”
Drew nodded. “I understand.” He looked at her a long moment. “He’s an idiot to give you up but, if that’s the case, so be it. I’ll make sure we’re ready to go at first light.” He embraced her once again and said, “I am sorry, Nan. I wish I could change things for you. Departing Leventhorpe will be for the best.”
With that, Drew left.
Nan needed to find David next. Her cousin would probably be upset that their time at Thorpe Castle would be cut short but he would be lucky enough to come out of this visit with a bride.
As the rain ceased, she found him approaching the keep, saving her a trip to the stables. He called out a greeting and then a look of concern crossed his face as he drew near.
“What’s wrong, Nan?”
“If I tell you I wish to leave for Ancel’s in the morning, would that be a problem?”
He sighed. “I was afraid it might come to this.”
Nan blew out a frustrated breath. “Does everyone seem to know?” she huffed.
Her cousin gave her a wry smile. “Aye. The people here will be disappointed that Lord Tristan has not opened his eyes and accepted what they all know. That he is in love with you, Nan, whether he admits it or not.”
Her mouth tightened. “He says he doesn’t believe in love.” She hesitated. “I know something—something about his past—and just how difficult it would be for him to love anyone.”
“Mayhap, he will change his mind,” David said encouragingly. “In the meantime, leaving tomorrow suits me well. I’ll have a last few bits of advice for the stable hands but the sooner I escort you to Bexley, the more quickly I can return to Sandbourne and share with Mother and Father that a wedding is to take place and that all our family should gather in celebration.”
Nan smiled despite feeling so low. “Elysande will enjoy planning a wedding and be grateful that Gillian wishes to hold it at Sandbourne.”
Naturally, Tristan would attend the nuptial mass of his sister and meet all of Nan’s extended family. Would it be possible for him to be surrounded by such love and happiness and not have any of it rub off on him?
She would take that small bit of hope and lock it away, deep in her heart. It might be the last chance she had with Tristan.
Once she returned to the solar, she threw off her rain-soaked clothes and spread them out to dry. She unbound her damp hair and combed through it before dressing in her cotehardie. Though she knew she should rebraid her hair, she made a bold choice to leave it down so that it could dry. She was not above trying to entice Tristan. Let him see what he would miss out on if he let her slip through his fingers.
Nan went to the great hall and found that David sat in her usual place upon the dais. She supposed she couldn’t begrudge him sharing a last meal with Gillian. She seated herself next to Tristan, who nodded without speaking. He remained silent as each course was brought out to them. She ate simply because it gave her something to do. It wasn’t her place to fill the silence, much less the void that had grown between them.
Finishing her meal, Nan rose. “If you will excuse me?”
Looking up, he said, “I hear you are leaving at dawn. Would you care to play a game of chess with me tonight?”
She had seen the unused chess set in the solar. “If you wish.”
Tristan rose and accompanied her to the solar. Nan readied the board and placed it on the table. She took a seat on one side and he sat opposite her.
For much of the game, she avoided looking at him and concentrated on the pieces on the board. Tristan, on the other hand, did not seem to take his eyes from her, moving his pawn or queen with a quick glance and little strategy. Nan won the game with no effort.
“Why did you ask me to play when you cared so little about focusing on the game?” she asked, afraid to hear his reply.
He swept the board away from them and leaned strong forearms in front of him.
“I would like to ask if you will reconsider what we discussed earlier today. Will you marry me, Nan?” he asked politely, his features blank, showing no emotion.
Just as courteously, she replied, “Thank you for your kind offer, my lord, but I choose not to accept it.”
His eyes burned into hers. “Why? You must marry someone, Nan.”
She sniffed. “Not really. I could become a nun.”
“You can’t be serious,” he scoffed.
“I did not say I would. I merely said I could.” She took a deep breath. “Some noblewomen choose not to wed. I might be one of them. I have enough family as it is. ’Tis a large group. Loud and loving, as a family should be.” She paused. “And not one of them behaves as you do with Gillian.”
Without thinking, Nan reached out and fastened a hand to his wrist and saw him flinch at the contact. “Don’t you see how you are hurting your sister by not opening up and showing your affection for her? She craves attention from her brother and is harmed when you ignore her repeatedly. If you keep this up, you will lose her—and regret it.”
Tristan gave her a wintry look. “I don’t see where that is any of your business.”
“What if I were your wife? Would it be my business then?” she demanded.
When he remained silent, her fury grew. “Oh, I see. You think we should wed so that I can be your brood mare. Just like one that you purchased from Elysande. You’d get an heir off of me and, mayhap, plenty more to spare.”
She rose and began pacing about the room, his eyes following her. Nan finally stopped in front of him.
“Don’t you understand, Tristan? I am not a woman you can shove into a corner and only bring out when you want a plaything. I want what my parents have. What my siblings have. I want a man who desires me. Excites me. Yearns for me. Loves me. I want a husband who shares everything with me, from his favorite foods to how he passes his day to his bed. I want to be his full companion in everything, a partner who is equal in every aspect. I want both our opinions to count. I wish for both of us to support one another and believe in the other and defend one another. I want a man who would fight to the death for me—because I would do the same for him. I want to live every day to its fullest with the man I love, awakening beside him each morning and knowing we have that day to share with one another.
“And I would know that the next day when we awoke entangled in one another’s arms that we would love each other even more than we did the day before. That each day our love would multiply and we would grow richer for it.”
Nan’s fingers grazed his cheek. “That is what my parents have. What my siblings have found with those they’ve wed. I deserve no less. I will settle for no less.”
Her hand fell to her side as she eyed him sadly. “I love you, Tristan, but you have convinced me that I could never experience everything I want with you.” She shook her head. “You stubborn man. You have broken my heart. I only wish you would listen to what yours is telling you.”
Crossing the length of the solar, Nan exited the rooms and hurried down the corridor. She had almost given in to him and his wishes. The passion between them burned brightly. She had wanted to climb int
o his lap and kiss him until they were both breathless before she led him to the bed in the next room. She longed to have his hands on her and wanted them to belong to one another through the act of love.
But she hadn’t given in to that temptation. For if they wed under these circumstances, she would never receive the life—and love—that she desired. One day, it would catch up to her if she did and she would realize how unhappy she was.
At the foot of the stairs, Gillian awaited her, distress on her lovely face.
“David tells me that you are leaving Leventhorpe in the morning. Why do you have to go, Nan? I know my brother cares for you. ’Tis obvious to everyone.”
She took the girl’s hands and gave her a sad smile. “Because I want with Tristan what you and David share. I will never get that from him, Gillian. He’ll never open himself up to me. I can’t live like that. I won’t live like that. I believe it’s better to end things between us now and move on.”
Nan released Gillian. She needed to leave the keep. From the time she was young, she had roamed Kinwick. Being outside always renewed her. Refreshed her. The solitude of the woods called out to her, ready to comfort her. She was most at home when alone in nature.
Leaving the castle grounds, she strode down the road and across the meadow until she reached the forest and entered. The cool air and stillness wrapped around her, as a hand sliding into a glove. Nan found a fallen log and sat upon it, ready to think about her future. She refused to give in to tears. For what good would they do? They only made her feel ill and weak.
How would she live without Tristan?
No answer came. Nan let her thoughts wander and decided keeping busy would be the only solution. She would go from here to Ancel and Margery at Bexley. They would offer her sanctuary and comfort and give her a renewed purpose as she worked with their soldiers. She found great satisfaction and enjoyment from tutoring others in the weaponry she had practiced with over many years.